She takes a moment to fan her heated cheeks from my growl before she restarts her endeavor to make me look as ridiculous as her. “What about an old football jersey? Surely you have one of those lying around.”
She stops racing across my living room when she reaches my fireplace. With her hands splayed across her tiny waist, her head flops back. “Where’s the pompous,I’m a football starjersey every player has framed above their fireplaces at? That would work.”
“I had Danny put it in storage when I was trying to deceive you into believing I was regular folk. . .” My words fall short when her narrowed eyes snap to mine. “Too soon?”
“Don’t be a mooooron, E. It doesn’t suit you.”
Laughing at herself, she makes a beeline for my coat closet. She’s seen me dump my gym bag in there many times the past few weeks, so she knows there’s a high possibility of finding what she’s chasing in there. “Oh my god, E. Have you heard of a washing machine? Send in the battle crews; I’m fighting back a stinky sock army in here.”
My chuckles are sliced in half when she emerges from the coat closet with one of my team jersey’s in her hand. “Bingo.”
I take a step back, exasperated. “I’m not dressing up as myself!”
“Why not? It will be cute.” She pulls a cutesy face, fluttering eyelashes and all.
I’m not buying it. “I’ll look like a fucking idiot. Who rocks up to a party held by their coach in their team uniform?”
Willow perks her lips. “A person too cheap to buy a damn costume for a party.” She thrusts the jersey into my chest. “You either wear this, or I hack up your rug.”
“ICAN’T BELIEVEI’m doing this.”
The bus driver peers down at the hundred I’m attempting to feed into the machine at her side before lifting her eyes to mine. “Correct change only.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s all I have.” That, and a really annoying girlfriend who makes me dress up as myself and catch the bus like “the regular folks” do.
When the machine finally accepts my fare, I join Willow on one of only a few vacant seats. After plopping into my spot, my eyes scan the bus. We’re the only riders wearing costumes, and we stick out like sore thumbs.
Halfway down the block, the lady next to me angles her head to the side to stare at my outfit. “We’re going to a costume party,” I inform her, panicked I’m seconds from being mauled by an overzealous fan. She’s giving me a look, one I’m not a fan of when I’m off the field.
My fear subsides when the gawker says, “Your outfit is the bomb. You look just like him.” The flash on her phone blinds me when she snaps my picture. After tapping her fake nails on the screen of her cell for a few seconds, she spins it around to face me. “See? Your resemblance is uncanny.”
She has a picture of me next to a picture of me.
She uploads her photo to facechat, snapbooky, whatever the hell it’s called before leaning across me to tap Willow on her shoulder. “YouTube tutorials?”
Now I’m not the only one panicked. Willow’s dilated eyes and thrusting chest have me taking a mental note to look into her YouTube infamy a little more intently tomorrow morning.
“Excuse me?” Willow’s voice is as high as the unnamed lady’s penciled brow.
“His face? It’s makeup, right? You can make anyone look like anyone with the right amount of makeup.”
She’d know. She’s wearing five pounds’ worth on her face.
The longer Willow delays answering the stranger’s question, the more inquisitive glances we gain. The bus riders arrow in closer, more intrigued by our choice in clothing than concerned.
After a quick swallow, Willow murmurs, “Oh, yeah. Awesome stuff. I contoured and shit, and shazam, look what happened?!” She leaps to her feet, filling the air with her sweet scent. “Oh, look, it’s our stop!”
Nice try, buttercup, but you’re about to be taught a hard lesson.“No, that’s not our stop. We’ve still got thirty miles to travel.”
Willow slaps me with her udders when she jackknifes my way. That shouldn’t have my dick paying attention, but for some fucked-up reason it does.
“Shut up and walk, E.”
I fold my right ankle over my left before sinking deeper into my seat. “Not until you say it.” The smirk tugging my lips high wipes the last of the worry from my face.
Willow folds her arms in front of her chest as the lady watches our exchange with enough interest to be deemed creepy. “I’m not saying it.”
“Then sit your ass down, buttercup, cause we’ve still got another thirty miles to travel.” I scoot over, giving her plenty of room to sit on the bench seat we’re sharing with Ms. Stalker and another two travelers.
