Chapter 4
Nate
Iwas feeling so confident when Viola waved me off, but as the monumental silhouette of my soon-to-be-ex’s frat house emerges from behind the trees, my resolve dwindles.
Because what if instead of embarrassing Richie in front of all his pals, I end up making myself the butt of the joke?
I stall in the shadows of the park on the edge of the university campus and tighten the fine navy cloak around my body.
Viola lent me her former boyfriend’s poet’s shirt, and wrapped a colorful sash around my waist, to create a costume of what she called a fantasy prince-slash-charming rogue.
I liked the result of the styling so much I gave her free rein with my hair, since it’s Halloween, and I need to look my best when breaking up with Richie.
But now that I imagine myself stepping into the frat house with a faint line of silvery eyeshadow under my eyes, it occurs to me that Richie and his buddies likely won’t get the costume, nor find it particularly impressive.
They might laugh me out of the party.
I don’t even know why I care so much. I’m here to break up with him.
I put on a black Venetian-style mask and walk toward the glow of green lanterns on the porch overshadowed by a colonnade.
The frat takes Halloween very seriously, not because of their love of dressing up or gothic aesthetics, but because they know people (especially women) in costume let loose when the atmosphere is just right.
They want to attract as many girls in fishnets and cat ears as possible.
I was surprised by Richie being openly gay among all his bros. All of my previous boyfriends hid their sexuality, so maybe that was what made me fall for Richie so fast? All I ever wanted was for a man to acknowledge my existence and hold my hand in public.
Did I really set the bar so low? Or is it that my expectations are too high for this reality?
After all, Richie and I had so many good moments—No. I need to stay strong and dump him. He left me behind. He cost me my job. So if he tries to win me back, if he does that wink thing, or happens to invite me upstairs, I will tell him exactly what I think about his actions.
I take a deep breath, following a group of girls in skimpy outfits with my gaze. For a moment, I consider trying to join them for a bit of social stealth before I make my move, but that’s just silly.
Richie knows my body by heart and will recognize me the moment his eyes settle on me, and maybe then he will reconsider his actions. Understand how badly he failed me and apologize. In public!
Who am I kidding? He would never admit to being wrong, even less so in front of witnesses.
I hesitate, wondering if I shouldn’t hide the fancy shirt after all, since I don’t want to be seen as trying too hard, but it’s too late at this point, and my only choice is between breaking up tonight or doing so in a more private setting.
I’m about to retreat, but then I imagine the disappointment in Viola’s eyes and step out of the shadows, my gaze fixed on the menacing clown face built around the entrance to the frat house.
I won’t be chickening out.
If I survived last night, I can deal with Richie.
I force my legs to move, but it’s like an out-of-body experience, and just thinking that takes me back to last night.
I laid there, lifeless, soul floating above.
But it couldn’t have happened, or I would have been dead.
Maybe it’s best to remember the good parts of my hallucination.
The dashing red-haired knight was most definitely a highlight.
As soon as I walk in, I’m hit by the smell of weed, cigarette smoke, and perfume.
The party isn’t even in full swing yet, but the frat house is already packed with people dancing, flirting, laughing, yelling to each other over the music.
I’m not the most sociable guy on my best days, but the mask helps me feel a bit safer, isolating me from being recognized as ‘Richie’s boyfriend’.
The lights are a mix of green and yellow for a spooky vibe, and every now and then, fake lightning illuminates the window at the end of the hallway as the rumble of thunder comes from a small speaker surrounded by empty bottles and cups.
The amount of people crowding every inch of space is overwhelming, so I drift upstairs, stepping over a girl so drunk she’s laughing at every single word coming from her companion’s mouth.
The loud pop music blasting at me from every direction is far from my favorite, but I’m not here to have fun, so I ignore all the sexy policewomen and nurses to finally end up in the second floor.
It’s a bit less crowded here, but when I reach the open door to my almost-ex’s room, it’s being used by a group of his frat brothers for what looks like an impromptu arm-wrestling tournament.
They are all dressed as gladiators, Greek gods, and barbarians, which is so not my scene. I flee before any of them can spot me.
After a fruitless search upstairs, I make my way back to the main party area. The drunk girl is now asleep and covered with someone’s furry cape, but I can only pay her so much attention if I’m to find Richie and end things.
Just as I pass the large kitchen, his warm voice reaches my ears. Bingo.
There are no speakers here, so I can follow the conversation, but as I step inside, hidden behind a bunch of drunk people munching on what I suspect to be hash brownies, my confidence dwindles further.
What if I don’t express myself right and he needs to ask questions?
What if his friends laugh at me? Maybe it’s less awkward if I let him finish his current conversation first?
Dressed as a sexy cowboy, Richie’s leaning against the counter. Jeans hug his thighs, he’s in a fringed leather vest that shows off his bare chest and has a cowboy hat to finish the look. He does look hot, I have to give him that.
I hang around the kitchen counter decorated with pumpkins and pretend I’m very focused on the choice of beers.
It’s easy to see that the guy dressed in leopard print overalls, cat ears included, is drinking every word from Richie’s lips like it’s ambrosia while stealing glances at my soon-to-be-ex’s abs.
Why wouldn’t he? It wasn’t him Richie left for dead.
“…so I stuffed all those puppies in my duffel bag, ten puppies, Ian, can you imagine? And I could already hear people yelling, so I just made a run for it. And then these crazies literally started shooting! Pow, pow, pow, at least twenty times. And all I was thinking was about those puppies, you know? Like, when you see something like that happening, you just have to act. I don’t care if it was illegal. At least now they’re safe.”
Ian nods fervently, lips open, eyes glued to Richie like he’s the second coming of Jesus. “Oh, my God, yes. You’re fucking amazing.”
One of Richie’s buddies, who’s dressed as a mechanic, swallows a long swig of booze and clears his throat. “Was whatshisname there too?”
My heart stops, waiting for the acknowledgement I’m owed even if I’m not the hero of this semi-fictitious story, but Richie sighs, leaning a bit closer to Ian. “Well, he bailed. Maybe you could be my sidekick next time?”
Rage spins through my head, scalding every thought, and before I can think, the carved pumpkin that’s been staring at me since I entered the kitchen flies above the crowd. Richie only avoids being hit square in the head due to his superior reflexes.
“You stinking liar!”
Do I sound a bit shrill?
Is this loss of control embarrassing?
Maybe, but I can’t stop the explosive emotions from ripping out of me.
Richie blinks, and darn, do I like the flush on his cheeks. He’s been caught in a lie and knows it.
“You took the car and left me there, you coward! You didn’t even bother to check if I was fine!” I scream, tearing the mask off my face when a loose thread tickles the corner of my eye.
Richie takes a bit too long to answer, and I hope his friends see that.
“You went off somewhere, while I was taking the puppies to safety!” he finally sputters, so, in my fury, I grab another pumpkin and hurl it at him to a mix of gasps, laughter, and one ‘that’s not cool, man!
’. This one manages to hit Richie in the shoulder.
I’m not a violent man, quite the opposite really, but everyone has their limits.
“I was grabbing the final puppy when you ran away. And you wouldn’t have been there in the first place if I didn’t convince you to come, so don’t pretend like you’re some big animal lover, because you couldn’t even remember to feed your friend’s fish for a week!”
There’s jeers, comments, laughter, but all I can see is Richie’s handsome face. Too bad it’s only a mask of the treacherous swine he is!
I can’t believe I had his cock in my mouth.
“I thought it was a misunderstanding, but here you are, flirting with someone else and lying to his face. We are done!”
Richie walks up to me and pushes me on the shoulder.
“Oh yeah? I told you we were done last night!” He did not, but of course, all he cares about is optics.
“Why are you even here if you hate me so much now, huh? Bet you came for another fuck and now you’re throwing shit at me ‘cause you got jealous I moved on?”
I’ve been so blind.
I idealized him just because he wasn’t hiding me like all my other exes. I thought of him as my prince charming, but there are no prince charmings. There are guys who will say and do anything to get their dick sucked.
I can’t believe I fell for it. Again.
The anger inside me needs to be vented, so I grab one side of that stupid vest and tug at it. “I’m not interested in Ian’s sloppy seconds. No offense,” I growl Ian’s way, and the guy steps back, rolling his eyes.
“Maybe if you weren’t such a goody-two-shoes, we would have worked out,” Richie says, slapping my hand aside.
I yelp, because that actually hurts. I just don’t know if it hurt my hand more or my heart.
As embarrassing as it is now, I had feelings for Richie, romantic ones.
What am I supposed to say to that? I can now see that he’s been checked out of our relationship for a while.
That’s why he didn’t want to commit to a birthday party.
He wasn’t even sure we’d be together next month.
I’m stuck in limbo, unsure how to react as I cradle my hand, suffocating under the weight of surrounding sniggers.
A large gloved hand reaches from behind me and grabs Richie’s wrist. The tall man steps to my side, watching my new nemesis like a hawk, and I can’t believe my eyes, because it’s the elven knight from my dream.
What the heck?
His long, silky red hair cascades over spiked pauldrons like rivers of blood, golden eyes sparkle like crystals, and when he turns to me and speaks? Oh, mother have mercy, his deep voice goes straight between my legs.
“Is this man bothering you?” he asks like my personal knight in shining armor.
He’s so fine that even right after the reality check of Richie’s attitude, I want to believe that this man could treat his partner right. That he’s not secretly a freak, who’ll drug you for fun, or clean out your credit card.
He’s wearing armor too, the very same I remember from my dream, with the front bearing the emblem of a crab.
My instinct is to retreat and leave this sad situation behind, but the prince looks so sincere I instead meet his gaze and raise my voice. “He is, actually. He left me in a dangerous situation. He cheated on me, lied, and now put his hands on me!”
Tristan’s frown makes him no less handsome, and he turns to Richie with a somber expression. He shoves Richie back as he lets go of his wrist and takes off his large leather glove.
“Despicable. I only came here to pick up Nate, but this won’t do.” Tristan… throws the glove in Richie’s face. “I challenge you to a duel.”
I don’t even understand what’s happening anymore. Pick me up? What does he mean by that?
But the crowd that swelled because of my spectacular breakup with Richie now howls, whistles and claps.
Richie laughs, but I’ve known him long enough to see uncertainty in his body language. “What are you even talking about, dude? You’re taking this costume of yours way too seriously.”
“No, guys, please! We need to see this duel,” Kim, one of Richie’s friends says, hanging on to her own boyfriend, who immediately chimes in, grabbing Richie.
“You’re not chickening out, are you?”
That is the trigger needed to make things happen. A satisfying heat settles in my chest when Richie flushes, meeting Prince Tristan’s gaze. “I accept. Let’s duel in beer pong.”
Tristan raises his chin, which only makes him look more regal, and spreads his arms wide. “Beer pong it is.”
The crowd erupts with whooping and laughter. Someone yells that it’s set up in the garage, and people flood out of the kitchen in a frenzy. Richie glares at me as he passes but doesn’t dare to even bump his shoulder into me when I’m next to my protector.
My protector who is… who is he exactly? He’s so tall, his costume is immaculate, and even the prosthetics on his ears are Hollywood level.
I shiver when he leans closer, and a strand of his hair falls on my shoulder. I half expect lips on my ear, but he whispers, “What’s beer pong?”