"Hypothetically where?"
"I don't know." She bit her lip in a way that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing. "Maybe somewhere private. Where only certain people would see it."
The implication settled between us, impossible to ignore.
"That's a terrible idea."
"Probably." She hugged the costume to her chest, her fingers playing with the fabric. "But you'd want to see it, right? If I did wear it? Hypothetically?"
Every alarm in my head screamed warnings while simultaneously screaming yes. I looked at Harlow, standing there in her vampire maid outfit with her pink-tipped hair catching the light, holding a costume that would probably give Mr. Patterson a heart attack. She was asking me with those impossibly purple eyes if I wanted to see her in something even more revealing. The question felt like a trap, though the kind of trap I might not mind falling into.
My mouth stayed firmly shut. Nothing good could come from answering that.
