My pajama bottoms, once a pale pink, are now a dingy light brown. However, they are still obviously pajama pants. They are cotton and thin, not too dissimilar from the gray shirt I have on. “Unless the guards think one of their own sleeps in women’s pajama sets, I think they’ll notice me.”
Sevastian stands up, too. “Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered.”
Before I can ask what he means, he reaches behind his back and tugs on his shirt, pulling it over his head. The room is dark, but I still feel uncomfortable looking at him.
“You want me to wear your clothes?” I ask. “But what will you wear?”
He points at me. “Your clothes. Take them off.”
I sputter as Sevastian throws his black shirt at me and then unzips his pants. The zipper sounds like a chainsaw in the otherwise silent room, and I c
