Your footsteps padded against the floor quietly as you walked down the stairs of The Trap House to get a glass of water.

For a while now, you've been Colby's friend with benefits. His sneaky link. There were a lot of terms for it.

Colby followed you not long after in no more than a pair of red plait pajama pants. He grabbed a carton of orange juice from the fridge and took a long sip.

"Are you coming with us tomorrow?" He asked, setting the juice on the counter. "We'll be in Las Vegas for like a week. Can't go that long without you."