“No,” I replied. “I’m going to be too busy holding Zac’s hand. I don’t want him having nightmares tonight.”
He chuckled just as I felt a hand land on the back of my neck again, molding itself around it.
Tilting my head back, I found those familiar baby blues on me. I whispered, “But for real, I don’t think I’ll get scared, but if I do, I’m using you as a human shield. You’ve lived a much fuller life than I have. Technically, Amari’s bigger but—”
My old friend scoffed. “We’re the same size. You know people still call me ‘Big Texas,’ don’t you?”
“Yeah, I know, but I started calling you that back when you were the biggest guy I knew. You’re not even that big.”
“Excuse me?”
It was too much fun to pick on him. “You’re big, but you’re not that big.”
Zac’s head reared back. “Aren’t you five feet tall?”
“Five foot two.”
Zac blinked.
I blinked.
He narrowed his eyes. “Swear to God, I’m tellin’ Mama on you.”
“If you’re ready,” the big man, whose name I had no idea what it was, called out with a wave of his hand in the direction of the gaping black hole of a door that led into the haunted house. The sound of a chainsaw going again made my little heart speed up a bit. The outside of the place really did look pretty creepy.
Yikes.
It was fake. They were all actors. It was going to be fine.
Somehow, someway, Zac got shoved to the front—I’d bet it was for pictures because, hello, he was the quarterback of the White Oaks now—and he’d reached back, dragging me up to stand directly behind him instead of further toward the end of our five-person line. The fifth person was the owner. CJ was directly behind me.
“Bianca,” he whispered as we trudged forward.
“Yes, CJ?”
“I think you should try less peanut butter on the brownies next time.”
I was glad he was at peace and could think about food. “I was thinking the same thing,” I replied over my shoulder.
“I can do another video too if you want,” he offered.
“It would be my honor.” The chainsaw started roaring even louder.
I faced forward again and saw that Zac had stopped right at the entrance. I jogged over to him and pushed at his hip. I didn’t think twice about slipping a finger through one of the belt loops of his jeans as he entered the building. Strobe lights flashed as computerized voices screamed and cried from up ahead. What felt like spiderwebs grazed my face and head, even though I was hunching forward directly behind Zac, clinging to his jeans for dear life.
“You okay?” he asked… with laughter in his voice.
“Yes!”
A face popped out of the fucking wall to my left, out of nowhere, and I screamed, stumbling to my right, because where the hell had that come from? Behind me, I heard CJ hiss something that sounded an awful lot like “Motherfucker.”
And in front of me, Zac must have felt my pull at his jeans because he’d stopped, and in the brief flash of the strobe light, I caught glimpses of his amused face.
Yeah, I grabbed his fucking jeans again with both hands that time and pushed at the middle of his back with my forehead.
To our right there was a nook with a couple of caskets under pale yellow light, and I knew, I knew something bad was going to happen. Why the hell had I agreed to this? Jesus. I’d been to a haunted house before; it wasn’t like I’d enjoyed it all that much.
I was too old for this shit. My heart was too old for this shit. I had so much left to live for.
Zac and I had gotten to almost the edge of the coffin display when this motherfucker came flying out from a trap door that the coffins had distracted us from, and I heard someone behind me yell, “Damn it!”
It was a split second later that something hit me in the back.
While I was taking a step.
I stumbled.
And I felt my ankle just go… sideways.
Yup.
Sideways.
“Whoa-ho-ho,” I screeched, lifting my leg up and wrapping my hands around it, bumping into Zac’s back.
CJ called out from behind, “Sorry! Amari pushed me!”
Something grabbed my shoulder, and just as I was about to push it off, Zac yelled, “What the hell happened?”
“I’m fine,” I told him, not sure if he could even hear me but knowing what he was going to say if he did.