That was true enough. My car was a classic Mustang that I’d spent hours restoring with my dad, and it was hardly a winter workhorse. But that wasn’t the whole story, wasn’t why my insides twisted up every time I had to drive, especially in bad weather. And I really hated caring what the hell Jasper thought, didn’t know quite how to take his shrug as he entered the restroom.

Jasper glanced around the empty room as he pointed to the blue bag. “Your stuff is in here. I’ll take the other bags in with me. Can’t risk someone walking off with the cards.”

“Yeah,” I said weakly. Couldn’t lose precious cards. For the billionth time since the weekend, I called myself all kinds of idiot. We exchanged bags and I headed into a cramped stall to change. It was weird, being back in a hospital with that distinctive medicinal cleaner smell, memories of my recovery and other less-than-pleasant associations making my injured leg tense further. My leg was already stiff from the too-fast walk from the bus stop, and the tight quarters didn’t help. I took a minute to rub my leg as I took off my shoes before stripping down to my shorts. It was chilly in the restroom, and despite being behind the locked stall door, I felt weirdly exposed.

Unfortunately, the costume didn’t help with that feeling as the thin fabric was all floaty as it draped over me, skimming my pecs and midsection before brushing my thighs and swishing around my knees. Bare arms. Bare legs. I’d worn a pair of compression shorts that I usually wore under baggier workout or soccer gear, but the toga was still rather…breezy. And strangely sensual. I’d never had silk sheets, but this fabric slid against my skin and made me aware of my nerve endings in a way I wasn’t entirely comfortable with.

“Don’t forget your accessories,” Jasper called from the next stall.

Oh, yeah. Ornate crown. Gold arm gauntlets. Gaudy seashell belt. And…earrings?

“I don’t have pierced ears.” I tried to sound regretful, not relieved.

“They’re magnets. And they’re tiny. Not gonna steal your dude bro cred, promise. I’ve seen NFL players with earrings.”

“Diamond studs are one thing. Seashells are…” My voice trailed off as I realized I wasn’t going to win this one and in fact was probably decreasing my chances of help after we were done. “Whatever. Putting them on.”

The magnets provided an odd pressure on my earlobes, like someone was tickling my neck and ears, but I tried to ignore them as I struggled to put on the lace-up sandals. No matter how I arranged the gold laces, my scars were still partly visible. Damn it. And of course Jasper noticed as soon as I emerged from the stall.

“Dude. Your leg—”