Fourteen
A POINTY BLACK HAT SETTLED CROOKEDLY ON HER head, Imani holds a long, black dress to her chest and assesses herself in the mirror opposite her. ‘This is too lazy, right?’
I shrug. I have no idea. I am not the authority on appropriate Halloween costumes; for almost every haunted holiday of my childhood, I wore the same pair of cat ears and called it a day. A tradition that, as quickly becomes clear, is not going to fly this year.
Trailing my fingers over one of the many clothes racks in this store, all of which are stuffed to the brim with every costume you could think of, I wrestle out a sweeping, high-collared cloak. ‘If witch is too lazy, then I’m guessing vampire is too?’
Sighing, Imani drops her unsatisfactory loot. ‘Find anything?’
‘Nah.’ Not that I’m really looking. I don’t really understand why we’re dressing up in the first place, but I’ve already made the mistake of questioning whether it’s entirely necessary.
Apparently, Halloween is not just for children.
And according to Imani, it is absolutely vital that one is properly, spookily adorned for the occasion – according to Imani, it’s the most important holiday of the year, and I think that, if I dared not join them on whatever mysterious venture she has yet to properly detail, the consequences could be dire.
Clumsily swishing a flimsy styrofoam sword through the air, she sidles up to my side. ‘You wanna crash at mine after?’
Unsurprisingly, my first instinct is no.
Surprisingly, the initial impulse to refuse is fleeting. Chased away by something oddly needy. I’ve never been one to fear missing out, but as I imagine being alone in my apartment while the festivities continue on without me, I kind of get what FOMO is all about. ‘Uh, yeah. If that’s okay.’
‘More than.’ She flashes me a warm smile, giving me a nudge. ‘Anyone you wanna invite out with us?’
Belatedly, I realize that I probably say no a little too quickly.
Too nonchalant, Imani presses, ‘No one at all?’
‘Nope.’
‘Really?’
‘Keep going,’ I drawl, with some exaggerated nonchalance of my own, as if this line of inquiry doesn’t make my stomach hurt. ‘There are at least three more ways you can call me a friendless loser.’
Slender fingers flick the curve of my shoulder. ‘Hey, I have it on good authority that you have at least five friends.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ I muse absent-mindedly, distracted by a gorilla costume that smells like it might’ve actually been peeled off a gorilla. ‘Who?’
Silence falls. When I glance at Imani, I find her brows high, her expression twisted by some combination of pity and amusement and duh.
Flushing a little, I look away. ‘Oh. Right.’
Her, and her friends. Duh, indeed.
With another gentle nudge, she moves around the clothes rack until we’re face-to-face. ‘Can I ask you something that might sound really shitty and judgy, but I’m honestly just curious?’
Hesitantly, against my better judgment, I nod.
‘Why don’t you have any other friends?’
The question hits me like a punch to the gut – more so, the realization that no one’s ever actually asked me that before.
I don’t think anyone’s ever even thought it.
It’s just . . . assumed. Like the answer is obvious.
There’s always a this is before the why, and it’s never a question, never a doubt. ‘I’m not a very friendly person.’
‘Oh, bull.’
‘I’m just . . . not very good at relationships. Talking to people. I don’t really like talking to people. Plus, I barely have time to, like, be alive, so I don’t think I would be great at nurturing friendships.’
‘You’re doing just fine right now.’
I start to smile, only to stop when I remember that we’re not actually friends, are we? She’s Heath’s friend. They’re all Heath’s friends. I’m just a temporary addition. When this whole fake-dating deal thing comes to its inevitable end, it’ll just be me again.
Good, I force myself to think. Everything will go back to normal.
In a bid to distract myself from that surprisingly sobering realization, I hold up a blue-checkered dress stuffed in a clear plastic bag. ‘What about this?’
With a dramatic gasp, Imani snatches the Dorothy costume right out of my hands, and I swear a lightbulb goes off above her head.
Loudly deeming it perfect, she sets off toward the cashier, throwing a comment over her shoulder about how Matilda has the perfect pair of red heels for her to borrow, about how her friend would be the perfect Glinda – you can be Elphaba, she practically squeals, and I work real fucking hard to stop my face from showing just how much I detest that offer.
Because I have a sneaking suspicion that if I don’t leave this store with a costume of my own finding, that witch hat will find its way to my apartment, I renew my efforts tenfold. I swear, I’ve damn near gone through everything in the store before something catches my eye.
Head crooked thoughtfully, I pick up the lone starfish hair clip from a huge pile of random accessories.
The slightest shift of my gaze, and a stack of stencils suddenly makes itself obvious.
Snagging one, I flag down Imani and hold up my meager finds, hoping she gets where I’m going, and she likes it.
I take another squeal as emphatic approval.
I thought that the Haven Cove University library would actually provide some semblance of peace and privacy.
Oh, how dare I.
Slouched in an armchair with my knees tucked to my chest, an open textbook balanced on my thighs, and a highlighter poised above the relevant paragraph, my vision suddenly goes dark.
I don’t even startle – I recognize the scent wafting around me even before a voice croons, ‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you, young lady.’
Peeling a pair of calloused hands away from my face, I tilt my head back and feign a concerned frown. ‘Is this some kind of foreplay?’
I swear Heath’s cheeks go a little pink. ‘No.’
‘Hey,’ recapping my highlighter, I hold my hands up, ‘I’m hardly gonna judge you for your sexual preferences.’
Slowly, Heath drops to a crouch at my side, his forearms stacked against the arm of my chair, his head cocking at a cheeky angle. ‘You wanna talk about sexual preferences, baby?’
Unfortunately, I definitely go a lot pink. Anyway. ‘You mentioned a bone?’
I literally watch a dirty joke flash through his brain.
‘Heath.’
He sighs, but he spares me. He gives my ponytail a tug before rising and circling around to stand in front of me, towering over me, making a dirty fucking joke flash through my own damn brain.
Long fingers twitch where they settle on trim hips, but, again, Heath cuts me a break. ‘Heard you went shopping for Halloween costumes.’
Spoken like an accusation, yet I fail to see the crime. ‘Yeah?’
‘You didn’t consult me.’
Consult? As if I need his permission? My eyes narrow. ‘I would choose your next words very carefully, young man.’
Knuckles turning white, Heath swallows. ‘Huh. Maybe this is one of my sexual—’
‘Oh my God, Heath.’
Again, he shows me a little mercy, and I wonder if this is some kind of self-control record for him. ‘I thought we could match,’ he tells me, almost whining. ‘Y’know, a couple’s costume.’
I barely restrain a shiver. ‘I think I’m morally opposed to doing that.’
‘Wow.’ Jesus, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he actually looks offended. ‘You ever match with Ben?’
‘God, no.’ I never dressed up with him at all. Strangely enough, none of his suggestions – including, but not limited to, slutty nurse, slutty nun, or, ironically, slutty Glinda the Good Witch – ever took my fancy.
Moderately consoled, Heath’s frown lessens ever-so-slightly, but that indignant pout remains.
I roll my eyes – and have to try so freaking hard not to smile. ‘I’m sure Kiki would match with you if you asked nicely.’
With an exaggerated scoff, Heath drops to sit on the low table in front of me. ‘Well? What did you get?’
‘I’m not telling you.’ I laugh, stretching out to kick him playfully. ‘You’ll probably turn up in the same thing.’
‘Would not,’ he grumbles. Catching my offending leg, he holds it hostage on his lap, fingers locked around my ankle, thumb tracing the protruding bone. ‘I don’t get a hint?’
‘No.’ It’s hardly a revolutionary costume, and he’s too smart for a hint. Plus, Halloween is, like, two weeks away; he can wait. ‘Patience, carino.’
He sighs again, but the noise is sated this time. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, heavy-lidded when they lock on me again. ‘Now, that’s definitely one of them.’
It takes me too many seconds to realize we’ve circled back to the whole sexual preferences thing.
When I do, I choke on my next breath, digging my heel into his thigh until he lets me go.
‘You’re distracting me.’ I kick his shin gently, retreating quickly before he can catch me again.
‘Get out of here before someone sees you. This is enemy territory, y’know. ’
His mocking laugh echoes around the empty library. ‘I’m shaking in my boots, Dani.’
‘I’m busy.’
‘Good God, woman. I come here to thank you for all your wisdom and this is the response I get?’
‘What?’
He fiddles quickly with his phone. When he shows me the screen, the Cove College student portal is pulled up. ‘Got that practice essay I submitted last week back.’
More invested than I have any right to be, I snatch his phone so I can get a better look at the little box stamped with his name and a grade. ‘Heath,’ I all but screech, entirely too loud for a library setting. ‘That’s a B!’
He smiles. ‘That’s a B, baby.’
A little excited noise I don’t dare to call a giggle escapes me.
I warble his name again. I’m practically bouncing in my seat.
It’s a practice essay, for fuck’s sake, that has no actual bearing on his final grade, yet I throw myself at him like he’s just won a fucking gold medal. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
With zero hesitation, he wraps me up in his arms, something like satisfaction warming the skin of my neck where he nestles. ‘It was all you, really.’