33 #2
Sarah’s eyes flick to mine and my stomach sinks. I told her everything that happened after I left the pub. We both know if he didn’t sleep last night, that’s my fault.
‘Maybe someone should wake him later, before the session.’ Sarah gives me a concerned look, and I know exactly how she feels.
Flynn could have booked a flight to Cricket Falls tomorrow morning.
Or tonight. My heart crashes to the floor.
All the plans I’ve made will come to nothing if Flynn leaves before we talk.
‘I should go and wake him.’ My words come out in a panicked rush. ‘Talk to him now.’
‘No!’ Sarah gasps. ‘You have to stick to the plan. It’ll be way more fun.’
Fun for her, definitely. Possible humiliation and heartbreak for me, though. Maybe a chat now, in private, would be best.
‘I told you the poor lad looked shattered.’ Audrey gives me a disapproving frown. ‘Pat said he hasn’t slept since Wednesday night.’ She folds her arms and stares me down. ‘You have to let him sleep.’
But what if . . . what if . . .’
Then I realise I’m doing it again, and I tell myself to stop. Stop worrying that I might mess things up. Or that I already have. Stop believing I can’t cope if that happens. And focus on what I can do. On what I want to do. Then go and make it happen. Or at least, try my very best.
‘What about Flynn?’ Sarah asks as she follows me out into the street. ‘Do you want me to throw a few stones up at his window? Maybe around nine?’ She gives me a meaningful look as she adds, ‘To give him time to change into his costume before he comes to the bar.’
‘I doubt he’s had time to think about a costume.’ I bite off a strip of tape, arrange it along the edges of my poster, and press it onto the glass. Then I pass some to Sarah.
‘I wouldn’t be so sure he doesn’t have a costume planned,’ Sarah says as she tapes her poster to the glass. ‘Scott was in Abbeyville at lunchtime, picking up his costume. And he bumped into Flynn and Pat on their way into the party shop as he was leaving.’
‘Really?’ I squint at her. Then I shrug it off. ‘They were probably picking up a costume for Pat. I doubt there’s much left at this stage, unless they pre-booked.’
And I don’t think Flynn had a costume in mind before he left for Cricket Falls.
I asked him if he had, and he spun out a range of crazy options like a Chappell Roan cheerleader, a Paul Mescal gladiator, and a sexy gardener complete with straw hat, dungarees, and bare, fake-tanned chest. None of which I took seriously, and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he turns up in flannel shirt and jeans, claiming he’s a young Luke from Gilmore Girls, if anybody asks.
‘Well, there was one costume left that Scott thought Flynn might go for.’ Sarah grins. ‘I think you forcing him to watch Twilight might have given him a clue.’
‘Who? Flynn? We haven’t watched that in years.’
‘I meant Scott. But I’m sure Flynn remembers you’re a fan. I bet you made him watch that movie countless times back then.’
I smile, because Sarah’s absolutely right.
‘Edward or Jacob?’ I ask with bated breath. Because I don’t want to friend-zone Flynn any more. And I’ve never fantasised about a werewolf. But a certain dreamy vampire, well . . . I close my eyes, feel Flynn’s teeth lightly graze my neck, and I shiver.
‘Edward, of course.’ Sarah smirks.
‘You look fab,’ I say when I arrive at the Corner Bar and spot Gertrude at the bar. ‘Terrifying, but fabulous all the same.’ She hands me a glass of Audrey’s blood-red punch. Gertrude has gone all out as an Irish Banshee in a silver-grey dress and matching wig.
‘And not a headless horseman in sight,’ I add, as I spot Finbarr over by the arch in a collared black cape with shiny red lining.
Gertrude rolls her heavily kohled eyes. ‘That was long past its sell-by date, and besides, he looks far more attractive as Dracula.’ She eyes Finbarr appreciatively. ‘Definitely a ten, don’t you think?’
I gulp back my punch. I’ve shared lots of opinions about my former school principal but his hotness rating has never come up. Until now. ‘Em, very . . . convincing . . . Great teeth.’
‘Looks like we’re the first to arrive,’ Finbarr says as he joins us. ‘That’s not like you, Gracie.’ He bares his pointed fangs, and Gertrude gives a little shiver.
‘It’s a big night,’ I say as I try to block out Gertrude’s Dracula kink and stay focused. ‘I want to make sure everything goes to plan.’
I haven’t shared the true motivation with anyone, apart from Sarah and Scott. As far as everyone else is concerned, my efforts are centred on the best interests of our village.
I lead them over to the bench by the arch and pull out two large cardboard sheets with green lettering. ‘These are yours, tuck them under your table until I give the sign.’ I pass them to Gertrude with a grateful smile.
She grabs a green marker. ‘I might embellish mine.’
‘Go for it,’ I say, because I know she’s on my side now.
‘And who are you supposed to be, Gracie?’ Finbarr frowns.
‘It’s obvious, dear.’ Gertrude tuts. ‘She’s Bella Swan, when she gets a bit more gumption.’
‘Right, right,’ he mutters, clearly no wiser.
But I smile because I’m glad Gertrude gets it.
Then I spot Pat coming through the door with Moll and Barty in tow, and I wave him over. He’s wearing a shaggy grey wolf costume, with the scary-looking head tucked under his arm.
‘Have you seen Flynn?’ I look anxiously over his shoulder. ‘I heard he went home for a nap, and you know what he’s like.’
‘Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon,’ Pat says softly. ‘He texted a few minutes ago. He’s going to take a shower and then he just has to fix something with his costume.’
‘Flynn has a costume?’
‘Of course he does.’ Pat’s eyes twinkle. ‘I’m fairly sure he got it for your benefit.’
‘Really?’ My nerve endings tingle as I picture Flynn as Edward Cullen, with diamond glitter on his cheekbones and some understated vampire teeth.
He’s already got the messy bedhead thing going on.
Although, I hope he doesn’t use colour contacts, I couldn’t bear him to cover those cornflower blue eyes.
‘Yes, really.’ Pat holds up his wolf’s head. ‘Right, I’d better put this on before the session starts. Have you a party piece prepared?’
‘I do.’ My voice comes out a little shaky, because even though I know my song by heart, I have no clue if my words will land the way I want them to, or if my plan will come back to bite me. And not the way I’m hoping for.