At the sound of the chainsaw right up ahead, he started walking faster, and I peeked an eye open to see a figure standing at the mouth of what was an open door with fog swirling around. And sure enough, he was holding what sounded like a chainsaw but didn’t look like one.
“If we don’t make it out alive, I want you to know I love you,” I said into his ear and felt him laugh again.
“See you at the gates?”
“Of hell? Yeah, I’ll see you there.”
I knew he shook his head because I felt his chin graze my forearm.
Then he walked, going forward, my instincts warning the chainsaw guy was right there.
Something flashed beyond my eyelids, and I knew someone had taken a picture.
Well, at least they’d think it was scary and come check it out.
I opened my eyes just as Amari, CJ, and the other big guy came walking out. And by walking, I meant, CJ was making a face, Amari was directly behind him looking pretty damn disgruntled, and the owner was grinning wide.
“You can drop me. I can limp back to your car,” I told Zac, tapping at his upper arm.
I saw a flash of his chin. “So you can roll the other one on the walk back to the car?”
“Ha, ha, ha.”
“How’s your ankle, kiddo?”
The icepack I’d slapped on it the second we’d gotten up to my apartment left my toes bared and covered the lower hem of my jeans. He’d carried me up the stairs, and I knew it was going to be a long time before he let me live this down. I wiggled my toes at Zac, who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch from me. He was sipping on one of the cans of grape soda he’d pulled out of my fridge when I’d gone for the icepack to help the swelling. It wasn’t hurting too bad, but it was stiff, and since I was going to have to work tomorrow, I wanted to prevent it from being worse than it needed to be.
“It’s all right. I just tweaked it.” I kept my face even. “It could have been worse.”
The corners of his mouth twisted up around the rim of the can. “Could it? Could it have been worse?”
I reached for the remote to turn the television on. “Yeah. It could have. I could have actually sprained it, and then my boss would have been mad at me.”
“Your boss would be mad at you for sprainin’ an ankle?”
I blew out a breath. “He’d get mad at me for letting my polo shirt get wrinkled.” He’d get mad at me for breathing too, I’d bet, if I did it loud enough.
He frowned. “This the same boss you hate?”
“The one and only.”
“Things haven’t gotten any better?”
Plucking the icepack off, I tossed it onto the side table to my left. “Nah, they’ve gotten worse,” I admitted before realizing what I’d said.
Of course he picked up on it. “Why?”
I didn’t want to tell him, but… I didn’t want to not tell him either.
“What happened?” he demanded quietly.
I scratched at the tip of my nose and stretched my leg out a little to end up on the cushion between us. “He’s just been more of an asshole because I keep telling him no when he asks me to work longer shifts. Now he found out we’re friends and tried to ask me about it, but I shut it down.”
Those dark blond eyelashes dropped, and the pleasant expression on his face fell off. He even set the can of grape soda on the floor by his feet. “What?”
“I think he might have wanted me to ask you to come to the gym or something annoying.”
A frown took over his perfect face.
“It’s fine,” I told him, even throwing in a shrug so he’d really believe me that it wasn’t a big deal.
“If you say so, but you tell me if there’s somethin’ I can do to help. I don’t see why you haven’t quit yet—yeah, I know because of your friend—but you don’t need to be puttin’ up with that kind of nonsense, Bibi.”
“I know,” I muttered. “I’ll be out of there soon, come hell or high water. Which speaking of, I didn’t tell you but the photographer that’s going to be doing my book asked if we could move the booking to November, so I’m trying to figure that out.”