SEVENTEEN
KELLY
While I'd laughed when Barry Miller was busy conning Zac into taking his place, it's nothing compared to now. The difference is my laughter is now nervous.
Zac looks so hot in that astronaut costume that I'm having trouble breathing. It fits as though made for him. On closer inspection, I decide it's not a costume, it's the real deal, with the same going for the helmet.
On Zac sliding the gold-colored visor down, I could be mistaken for thinking it's Barry standing in front of me. Except for Zac's overall height and breadth of shoulder, that is.
Okay, and I doubt Barry could rustle up an erection as impressive as the one Zac has on display. Did I mention that the suit was a snug fit?
"I'll wait for you in the truck." Not trusting myself to keep my hands off him any longer, I scuttle out to the truck and slide into the passenger seat.
My heart isn't up to watching Zac wriggle out of that suit. Especially not when he'd had to ditch his jeans to get it on.
Soon enough he joins me, giving me the side-eye for abandoning him. There's nothing I can do to stop my gaze from dropping to his lap, something he catches me doing. Why is it always this hard?
"That's your fault."
My head snaps up, and I stare at him, openmouthed. I said nothing, did I? No, no, I didn't.
"Hah, I wish it was always this easy to see what you were thinking."
A brief shake of his head and he starts the engine. However, on driving out the front gates, rather than head toward Sand 'O' Sun, Zac turns left, toward town.
"Where are we going?"
Now it's Zac's turn to snort. "Sweetheart, if you think I'm riding that rocket alone, you are kidding yourself." He sucks on his bottom lip before carrying on. "And much as I'd like you naked when you do, I doubt the parade organizers would be up for it."
I haven't cobbled together an answer to this when he pulls to a stop outside the only costume hire shop in Coogan's Break.
That's the second time today he's made a throwaway comment that says he's still attracted to me. And let's not forget us coming close to doing the dirty at the lock-up. As if I could.
But in that case, why did he move out? Never once did I say I'd accepted that job. I'm still mulling everything over when he opens my door.
His hand clasping mine, he urges me out of the truck, not giving me the luxury of thinking about it further. Zac leads me over to the front of the costume shop, where he opens the door and nudges me inside.
"I'll trust you to pick the right outfit. Make it silver, make it shiny. Something like my outfit would be good." With his list of demands delivered, he shuts the door in my face and stomps back to his truck.
He then sits unmoving, doubtless in for the long haul. What he doesn't know is that I hate costume shopping, never able to find something I like. Never able to find something nice that fits.
If a costume fits, it'll be one that sees me playing the part of crone, monk, or hippy in what amounts to a sack with a belt. It'll also be something in which I'll look hideous.
On spinning around, determined to have this hell over with, I come close to bumping into a woman. Strange, because there's no missing her in that bright orange tracksuit. It's a bold color for a woman on the wrong side of seventy.
"Hello sweet thing. And how can I help you today?"
While she's talking to me, I'm not the one she's checking out. That would be Zac. When she gushes out, "Oh my, that one could put his slippers under my bed any night," as angry as I am with Zac, I have to agree.
However, I don't have time for this. The less time I spend in costume hell, the better. "I need something spacey."
"Spacey as in outta space, or stoned?"
Wait? What?! "Oh, outer space, please."
After rubbing her hands together in glee, she spins on the spot and takes off, putting her tracksuit to good use. "Follow me, follow me!"
I do my best, but thanks to the speed at which she'd left, and the higgledy-piggledy nature of the shop, I lose her on the first corner. This is quite the achievement given how bright her outfit is.
