Page 10 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
The lights blink back on. I flinch when I realize I’m inches from a camera. And then I full-on scream when Badpun laughsbehind me—earsplitting, raucously loud laughter that fills the room.
I’m going to kill Adam.
“Walk with me.” He gestures dramatically to another corner of the room. “Solve this puzzle, the door opens, and one of us escapes.” He laughs again. This time, it’s an unhinged cackling that should turn my stomach, but I’m a little too intrigued by this cosplayer’s commitment to be phased.
It’s a spin lock with letters. I twist them to spellbadpun. A red light flashes.
“Wrong.” Badpun leans against the wall, looking at me, licking his lips. “Two more chances.”
“Then what?”
“We play a new game.”
“Catch Adam and make him pay for his crimes?”
He smiles. Something about it feels like a secret, like a backstage glimpse into whoever this very talented, or very psychotic, man is. Maybe that’s what makes his next line so startling. “Or I kiss you.”
I think I actually jump. My mouth hangs open.
“Kidding.” He laughs before frowning and inhaling slowly. “Kidding,” he says again, this time in a low rumble.
“Funny.” I try spellingescape. The red light flashes again.
“Is it?” He cocks his head. The light flickers in his honey-colored eyes. “Only one way to find out?”
For a second, I believe him. I’m not proud of it. I’d like to pretend that I’m not some basic cavewoman who gets a whiff of a man’s pheromones and wants to tongue him. But I have to admit there’s something delicious about this cosplayer. Unsettling and delicious.
“There it is,” he hisses. “You want to play just as bad as me.” He turns his head and grins before his focus reclaims me. I’m fully prepared for him to pounce, start laughing maniacallyagain. Instead, he leans a shoulder against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankles.
His shirt sleeves are rolled to the elbows, and I admire the veins that are in stark relief around the corded muscle.
The lights flicker brighter before dimming.
“You don’t have to look so scared,” he whispers, and my stomach tightens. A heady weightlessness fills my chest.
I try hard not to shiver. “I’m not.”
“Come on. Let’s hear a laugh. Ha ha ha.”
I’m shaking. And it’s not fear. “Ha ha ha.”
An amused smirk surfaces on his lips. And he inhales deeply. “That’s it.” His eyes dart to the code box on the wall.
I groan as I spin the letters on the lock tohahaha. The lights flicker off, and the bolt on the door in the corner slides open. “Looks like I’ve escaped.”
“For now.” He hesitates before easing back. And then he laughs that wheezing chuckle that I’m sure is going to haunt me.
I step out of Badpun’s cell into a small room with a half-finished mural, no doubt for social media selfies, and boxes stacked everywhere.
I shuffle out, not waiting for Badpun to follow. I’m pretty sure my cheeks are glowing brighter than the neon in here. I bolt for a bathroom. Cold water on my neck and a few minutes to catch my breath do me a world of good. I need to find Adam and give him a piece of my mind. He could have given me just a bit of a warning.
I wind my way through the maze of boxes toward a control room with a dozen monitors.
“Hey, great work,” Adam says when I’m still steps from the door.
“Yeah? Any good shots?” It’s him. Badpun is with Adam. But not in character. Not sounding like a psycho. Not oozing unhinged danger or sexiness. Professional. Human. Everyday.
“This one, after you pulled Bea onto the marker. Good call pulling her hair back.” I hear keyboards clacking.
