Chapter Two Noah #2
He looks down for a beat, then steps out of my way, holding the door open. “Have a spooky time, sir.”
I’m laughing to myself as I step over the threshold. Because I feel like there’s no other kind of time to be had. This night keeps getting better and better.
Three steps inside the party, the music kicks up as a band introduces themselves.
An electric guitar strums a familiar rhythm before everyone onstage begins jumping to “Psycho Killer,” by the Talking Heads.
But I’m undeterred as I search the room, looking for a cute little T. rex and coming up short.
However, what I am getting at great lengths are seriously elaborate costumes. There’s prosthetic after prosthetic and fabricated gore everywhere. Damn. One person after another draws my attention with pieces so intricate they could easily be in movies.
Who the hell are these people? And what kind of party is this? The moment I think it, I spot a neon sign by the entrance that says Mass FX—Bringing the Magic to Reel Life.
Oh shit. Okay, that makes sense. She works for a special effects company. That’s cool. Or maybe her sister does, since she said she was taking the fake blood to her for the dead body.
If I ever find her, I’ll ask.
I keep making my way through the crowd, eyes back on the prize.
A woman with fish scales all over her face blurts out “Boo” as I pass by, so I chuckle and lift my hands, waving them to play along.
Peopling isn’t usually my thing. Neither are parties. But tonight, I’m the definition of If he wants to, he will.
I went from debating whether or not I was about to be killed to knocking on an unnumbered, unlabeled warehouse door for a girl whose last name I don’t even know. At a party I wasn’t even originally invited to.
But there’s something about a girl who makes “hot mess” look intriguing.
A bunch of Star Trek–looking aliens walk by as I crane my head to look past them. Where is she?
I’m about to pull my phone out to text her instead of trying to be cool and just happen upon her when a high-pitched screech, something like a dying owl would make, comes from my left, forcing my attention around.
There’s a guy in white face paint dressed as the bad dude in Hellraiser. He’s looming over some girl at the bar while the people surrounding them laugh.
He must’ve scared her.
As if to give proof of that, she presses her hands to her chest like she’s trying to jump-start her heart. I grin, but it almost immediately starts to fade as auburn curls fall in front of her face. Wait a minute. My eyes narrow as she puts a hand on her knee, presumably to catch her breath.
I’m already moving in their direction as she stands up, laughing along.
My eyes stay locked on her, and the grin that faded on my face from before suddenly finds its way back into place.
Hey, I know you . . .
Goldie sweeps her long, spirally curls over her shoulder, smacking the chest of the guy who just frightened her.
Damn, I almost didn’t catch that it was her because she’s not in her costume anymore. Instead, she has on one of those one-piece legging / tank top thingies in olive green and is wearing black Nike Court Royale 2 high-tops. It’s smoking hot.
Helplessly and without permission from my brain, my eyes drift over her frame, over each curve and bend as she moves, speaking animatedly while using her hands. I’m indulgently taking her in, lingering in some places but only glancing at others so I can still call myself a gentleman.
Never mind, I am a perv. I can now confirm her ass is better than nice.
I don’t know what most guys like; all I know is what she’s got is what I want.
I’m closing in on her, trying to think of a good opening line, beginning to get distracted by my nerves.
I should’ve just texted her. Dammit.
She’s still talking to the nails-in-the-face guy when I sidle up to the bar, put my helmet on top, and eavesdrop, trying to buy myself some more time.
“Is that the third time I’ve gotten you tonight?” he says.
She huffs playfully. “Yes. And I think the third time’s the charm. So now you’re done.”
He laughs, rubbing her arm. “Come on, Goldie. How is someone afraid of their own shadow at a Halloween party?”
She laughs and grabs her drink, accidentally brushing my ghost arm.
“Sorry,” she politely breathes my way, giving me an opening to interrupt her being flirted with.
It’s okay, buddy. I don’t blame you. I’m here to do the same. Before he steals any more of my time, I pounce, letting my voice carry.
“Don’t be. Goldie, right? Hold on a minute. Did you do something different? You’re almost unrecognizable.”
Goldie looks over her shoulder for a second before a smirk blossoms. She nibbles her lip, completely turning my way as I continue.
Ever so boldly, I take her hand, bringing her fingertips close to my ghosty eyehole.
“Are the claws different?” I raise her arm above her head, spinning her halfway around. “Or maybe it’s the tail . . .” She giggles as I bring her back around, this time stretching her arm out. “I got it. You got an arm-lengthening surgery since a couple hours ago?”
She shakes her head, delivering her comeback with diabolical sincerity while our fingertips still touch as I drop our hands between us.
“No, silly, I did a middle part in my hair instead of side . . .”
She pulls her hand away to touch her chest as her eyes grow wide before she sucks in a sudden, dramatic gasp. “But you look pale as a ghost.” She presses her palm to my covered forehead. “Are you sick? Maybe even deathly ill?”
We stand there, staring at each other, me smiling even though she can’t see it.
Then we laugh.
And it’s kind of magical. Damn, I really want to get to know this girl.
Pinhead steps up next to Goldie, reminding both of us that he’s still here. He’s armed with a furrowed brow as he looks directly at me.
“Hey, who’s your friend, Goldie?”
Okay, time to scram, buddy. But he keeps going as he reaches to shake my hand.
“I’m Scott. I own the company.”
Ooo, big flex. My eyes stay locked on hers as I extend my hand to him and answer.
“I’m her boo.”
She laughs, and I like it. It’s the kind of laugh someone has when they’re comfortable in their own skin. The dude shakes my hand before packing up his dignity and bowing out.
“Well, you two enjoy the night.” He looks to Goldie, who’s locked on me. “I’ll see you around? Maybe another scare before the party’s over?”
Goldie gives him a nod, still smiling at me, and barely whispers “Sure” as he leaves.
This is wild. Our chemistry is crazy. I’m so attracted to her that it feels illegal. I glance over at Scott as he’s leaving, but she draws me back.
“He’s my sister’s boss.”
So, this is her sister’s job.
I tilt my ghost head, looking back at her. Goldie downs what’s in her glass and places it back on the counter.
“Buy me a drink?”
I immediately raise my hand to the bartender, noticing a sign that says Open bar.
I’ve been set up.
“Okay, but I gotta warn you. Carrying a wallet in the afterlife is tricky. So, you can only get what’s free.”
She giggles again. Man, I’m going to do all my best stand-up and steal from every Netflix comedy special I’ve ever seen to keep that sound coming.
“Tonic with two limes, please,” she orders.
I add mine along with hers. “Same.”
She looks surprised that I’d drink the same drink she does, but instead of questioning anything, we just keep glancing at each other, neither of us knowing what to say.
“What happened to the dino getup?” I toss out, wanting to take the damn sheet off.
“I decided to go with the after-dark version. This is sexy Rexy.” I smile as she rolls her eyes, adorably so. “Just kidding. It unfortunately fell victim to a concrete wall about three blocks into my walk . . . Between that and asteroids, I figured it was time to give in to natural selection.”
For a second, I totally picture her in a deflated T. rex costume, walking down Main, and it makes me chuckle.
Her fingers tap the bar as, I swear, the music gets even louder. She must feel the same because she steps in closer to me, our arms brushing.
“You know, I half expected you wouldn’t come.”
She takes her drink as it’s offered.
“Why?”
I take mine as she shrugs, and it’s shy. Which, ironically, seems like it would be on brand for her. I don’t know what to say, so I hard pivot to another topic.
“So, how long has your sister been doing this?”
She takes a sip. “Her whole life, but she’s finally getting paid now.”
“Cool. What have you been doing your whole life?”
She touches the end of her hair so delicately I’m not sure she knows she’s doing it. But I can’t stop noticing.
“My whole life? How much time you got?”
All night. All week. Whatever works.
She smiles wistfully. “I’m a hopeful writer who’s working on working as a florist. I have an interview next week.”
That’s the best description of unemployment I’ve ever heard. She should definitely stick to writing.
I nod. “Basically, the next great American novelist feeling uninspired, relying on a little beauty in the meantime.”
“Something like that.” There’s another long pause as we both face forward. Even the awkward parts are making me smile. Maybe I’m grateful for the sheet after all.
Goldie’s voice carries up to me again. “What do you do? Other than haunt people and turn into a boy for first kisses in spooky mansions.”
I can’t help but chuckle because her television and movie references are set to expert mode.
“Graphic design. I mostly make a lot of boring corporate logos, but eventually, I’d love to create sneakers.”
I wait for her to make a joke about me being a forever twelve-year-old, like most people do.
But instead, her hand touches my shoulder. “No way. That’s so cool. I love it, and now I know who to ask for a custom pair on my birthday.”
She’s a cream-and-white leather Converse high-top with stars, flowers, and book quotes wound up the back.
“When’s your birthday?”
Goldie only smiles before rubbing her lips together, coating a sheen of wetness into a shine. I nod, understanding, lifting my drink.
“Guess I’ll have to stick around to find out.”
The coy look she gives me makes me blow out a gentle exhale.
I start to take a drink to cool off, but I hit fabric, blocked. I laugh, watching her eyes light up with humor.
We forgot a mouth hole.
As if she hears my thoughts, Goldie grabs a straw from the bar, then raises her hand to my face and gently tugs the sheet until one of my eyeholes is lined up with my mouth.
I feel the straw touch my lips, so I take a long sip.
“You weren’t supposed to cover your face,” she teases, so I give it back as good as I’m getting it.
“And you were supposed to be a dinosaur. Looks like we’re both liars.”
With a huff, she tugs my sheet all the way down, exposing me. “Bold choice with the flowers.”
“I’m in touch with my feminine side.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I blurt out my next words as I run a hand through my hair. “Do you want to get out of here?”
She smiles. I keep going.
“Maybe go somewhere we can hear each other better? I wanna know you . . .”
She’s shaking her head before answering, but when she does, I’m toast.
“Are we walking or driving?”