Chapter 19
“WOW.”
It takes me a second to realize both Vale and I say the word at the exact same time.
For me to stop so openly checking him out and remember that he can see my eyes (although, he’s definitely not looking at my eyes ).
And seeing him nearly drooling has me like, If he’s doing it, let me just go right back to it myself because he’s looking way too good in a loincloth he made himself out of mayonnaise packets and his Halloween-store pair of wings and halo.
A little bit of gold, shiny makeup at the top of his cheeks.
Just so much body . How am I supposed to not look?
I have to beat back the desire to let out a, “Turn around for me. Let me see the other cheeks.”
Especially while we’re in my room, realizing it’d be so easy to have him fall onto my bed and see how bad this angel can be.
“I, uh … I mean, you did a really good job on these outfits, Vale,” I say instead, hoping that, if he noticed the vavas coming out of my mouth, he knows it’s purely appreciation drool. Appreciation of his craft. Obviously.
“Thanks,” Vale replies. “You—you look great.”
“Pues, I got the best costume designer in the game.” I smile as I spread my arms and give him another chance to take in me in this devil outfit, including my own loincloth made from red and black Taco Bell hot sauce packets that’s not leaving a lot to the imagination, with a cloth devil-tail pinned to the back.
“But, I got to know, where did you put all the hot sauce and mayo?”
He sucks in his lips, trying to hold back an embarrassed laugh. “ Most of it ended up in jars. But I still keep smelling condiments everywhere. I’ve been traumatized by them. So, if you need any Taco Bell sauce or mayonnaise, let me know. I am your plug.”
I let out a chuckle along with a “Hell yeah.” Actually, “Iremos a la tienda—the H-E-B close by—ma n ana. I’ll buy some corn and we’ll have esquites.”
Vale smiles and gives me a nod.
“And I … You really came through for me.” Vale’s arms cross over his chest like he’s feeling weird and guarded about getting sentimental for a second, even though he’s told me these words at least once every single day since I agreed to go to this party with him.
“For, you know, saying yes to this costume idea with me. I’m sure you could’ve done something with your teammates, and I really should’ve asked you first—”
“Hey,” I say, cutting him off, putting a hand on his arm, rubbing the space between his elbow and shoulder, trying to be more comforting than demanding.
“I told you, we’re good. I’m glad I get to do this with you.
And you deserve to be going with the hottest devil in the game; there was no way that Kingsville guy or some frat boy was going to be it. Respectfully.”
“I’m not even going to put energy into trying to disagree with you,” Vale replies with a soft laugh.
And I catch him taking one more moment to eye me up and down.
Or maybe to take in his handiwork. I can pretend like I’m not being objectified.
He lets his arms rest and then a hand comes up to my small plastic horns, adjusting them real quick.
“Also, you saved me from going as a group with P é rez. He was talking about going in a thong with one of those little sombrero pi n atas covering up the front, and I’m pretty sure he’s not joking. I saw him come home with a four pack of those pi n atas earlier this week.”
“I’m not going to even pretend like I wouldn’t have been incredibly into that alternative for you,” Vale tells me, biting his bottom lip. “Okay. Yeah, I’m done visualizing. We should get going.”
“Next time. Or for your birthday,” I joke, giving him a smirk before motioning for him to start walking out of my room. “But for now, let’s go party. Our ride’s almost here.”
At this point, I’ve been to a few parties since the start of the year.
And, turns out, a lot of them are mostly the same.
A stuffy, crowded house, lots of liquor, loud music, counting down the hours until we’re jumping a fence the second we hear that cops are coming—a consistent formula across the board.
But this one—Eta Tau’s Midsemester Anything but Clothes Party—is different.
I can see why this party is the one everyone talks about.
It’s in a category of its own, more epic than anything I’ve ever seen.
Impossible to walk into it and not immediately think santa mierda .
They could probably pay for someone’s tuition with the money they’ve put into tonight.
As soon as Vale and I step into the literal multilevel warehouse the party’s held in, Fuerza Regida’s “HARLEY QUINN” playing so loud all my organs are bumping along to the bass, my hand is grabbing his, making sure I don’t lose him in the hundreds and hundreds of people on the first floor.
My other hand’s busy with my phone, texting the Boys group chat, hopeful I might get a reply from at least Kat or P é rez telling me where they are.
Most of the team decided on something traditional but classic for their costume, mummying themselves with just enough caution tape to not be indecent, so they shouldn’t be too hard to spot in a crowd.
And wherever they are, my roommates have got to be nearby.
“You good?” Vale asks, his mouth close to my ear so I can hear him over the beat of the Latin EDM that reverberates through my whole torso.
I nod, looking around, but I only need a minute to realize that, with this many people, there’s not a lot of use in spending my time trying to find anyone I know.
And, looking at my phone, seeing how my text of Where are y’all?
hasn’t even gone through because of how many other phones are in this building, there doesn’t seem to be another option here.
Might as well try to have some fun until they find us.
“Let’s get a drink,” I tell him. “And then you want to dance?”
“Yeah,” he says. “For sure. I just— oh , Leana!”
My heart stops for a second when I hear her name come out of Vale’s mouth.
As much as I knew the chances of me seeing her tonight were significant —this is her sorority and she probably has to be here—my stomach still clenches when I spot her.
She looks good. Happy. And, yeah, I’m happy to see that.
Fully. The way my body reacts isn’t because I’ve got butterflies.
It’s not nerves because “Wow, she’s so pretty; don’t act a fool in front of her. ” She is, though. For sure.
The wind gets knocked out of me not because I’ve got a crush on her still; it’s because, as much as I’m struggling with this fact, I’ve fallen for someone else. Just as hard as I did for her. Someone who’s also her best friend.
And, shit, when that fact starts showing itself outside of my own head, that makes me nervous. Terrified.
Vale lets go of my hand that I hope hasn’t gotten sweaty in the seconds since we spotted Leana so he can go hug her, careful not to mess up her dress.
“It’s an umbrella,” she tells him, lifting up her skirt enough to show the bit underneath. “And the dress is made of trash bags.”
“It’s barely covering your cat and tetas, friend!” he yells back at her.
I do my best to hide my laughter at that, especially when Leana turns to me.
And the smile she gives me, it’s not in an overly dramatic, showing-lots-of-teeth way or trying to put on a face.
It’s authentic and nervous in her own way.
Like she’s acknowledging that this might be weird, but we’re all here to have fun, right?
“Speaking of barely covering junk and having your tetas out,” she starts. “You look good, Pineapple.”
I smile back. This doesn’t have to be weird. No one’s being weird about it. She doesn’t know how down bad I am for her best friend. She has no reason to. Just give Gabo and I’ll be alright. “You do too, Leana.”
“ Y’all look good,” she adds. “Swear, if there was a costume contest, I think you two would take it.”
“It’s all Vale.”
“And it’s fine,” he tells her. “In lieu of a cash prize, I’ll be taking a tequila-Coke.”
“Ya, claro.” She does a shoo motion with her hands at us before blowing a kiss toward Vale. “Go. Enjoy. Dance. Have fun. Both of you.”
Vale grabs for my hand, and as soon as I feel his touch, my fingers are sliding between his, holding him tight.
And, as I look behind me so I can say bye to Leana as we take off, I notice her smile.
The way that it feels knowing. Like what’s in my heart about the boy I’m here with is so obvious to her.
Maybe all it took was his hand touching mine for my poker face to fade.
Or maybe, as someone who I was very ready to offer my heart to once upon a time and not too long ago, it’s easier for her to see the tells.
And, if so, what would she say about me? About me and Vale?
Thankfully I don’t get too much time to linger on that thought.
Soon enough, I’m being handed a tequila with pineapple juice and cheers-ing with Vale before chugging it all down in seconds and chasing it with some kind of fruity blue shot a girl with a bunch of test tubes hands me.
And while the liquor doesn’t immediately shred away all my sobriety, it does send a jolt through my body that loosens it and wakes me up.
I’m here to have fun. I need to stop overthinking.
The last thing I want to do tonight is focus on an ex-fling and what she might know or not know. I want to be here, with Vale.
I look around, taking in face after face after face and realize that I’m not seeing anyone I recognize.
Not a single teammate in sight. No random person from one of my classes.
No one’s even paying attention to me or Vale and our slutty angel and devil costumes.
Honestly, a solid half of the people here are dressed in less.
No one is here to get you . Have fun . Dance with him.