Fifteen
THE GIRLS SCREAM WHEN THEY SEE ME.
Wincing, I thank my past self for pre-emptively finishing my costume with a pair of earplugs.
‘Heath’s gonna pass away,’ Matilda declares, as she scurries across her kitchen, wine clumsily sloshing over the rim of a very full mug – suddenly, the barely intelligible come in that was just hollered at me through the front door makes sense.
Because I figured this night was going to be long and busy and socially draining enough, I declined their invitation to get ready together.
Clearly, I missed some integral drinking time, and the bickering I assume ensued when Matilda decided against being Glinda.
There isn’t an ounce of pink to be seen on her body, but there is a whole lot of body bared by her costume – a pixie?
A woodland deity? Something winged and floral and almost naked that makes me feel a lot better about being so scantily clad myself.
Shimmying excitedly, Matilda the Drunk Fairy emphasizes her friend’s apparently imminent demise. ‘He is literally going to die, Dani.’
‘Huh. Fitting for the occasion, I guess.’ Half-smiling, I fiddle with the straps of my .
. . well, I wouldn’t really call it a top.
More of a bra adorned with beading and shells that hang down and string across my stomach, which is otherwise completely bared by a low, slinky skirt that flows down to my calves.
Everything is in shades of blues and greens and pearlescent purples, just like the shimmering scales I painstakingly painted onto my face, my neck, and across my ribcage, using that stencil.
For so little, it’s a lot. I didn’t really know how far I was supposed to go. How much I should commit to embodying one of those nicknames of mine and being a siren for the night.
Toying with one of the braids I weaved the front pieces of my hair into, I try not to grimace. ‘I don’t look ridiculous?’
‘Oh, you do. But, like, complimentary.’ Imani crooks a long, red fingernail at me, brandishing the camera clutched in her other hand. ‘C’mere. I need to immortalize this.’
I groan, but I go to her. Shit, I kind of want to immortalize this too.
Sure, I think I look ridiculous, but not because I think I look bad.
Just a little over-the-top. I am very sure that I look very hot.
I’m also very sure that, wherever we’re going, I’m going to be very cold, but hey. Such is life. I’ll live.
I open my mouth to ask where, exactly, that is, since no one’s provided me with any details beyond the fact we’re going to a party, but new voices and heavy footsteps interrupt me.
‘Wait,’ Matilda calls out to the boys, and the footsteps come to an abrupt stop. Launching herself at her purse, where it’s strewn on the counter, she pulls out her phone. ‘I wanna record this.’
Imani hums in agreement, her camera poised too. ‘Good idea.’
Resisting the urge to duck and fucking hide behind the counter, I settle for closing my eyes for a steadying beat. ‘You guys are so dramatic.’
‘No, we’re not. You’re just that hot.’
Wolf-whistling her agreement, Matilda hollers for the boys to enter.
Contrary to popular belief, Heath does not lay eyes on me and immediately perish.
However, he does . . . malfunction or something.
He’s last in the door behind our sober designated driver for the evening and a not-so-sober Kai, and while Brendan offers vague compliments to all three of us girls – though they’re spoken while staring straight at Imani – and the latter wolf-whistles shrilly enough to bust eardrums, Heath says nothing at all.
He freezes in the doorway, wide-eyed and gawking right at me.
‘What’re you supposed to be?’ I taunt, curiously taking in a backwards black baseball cap, an oversized t-shirt layered over a baggy long-sleeved top, a pair of equally loose sweats, and scuffed sneakers.
Still, he says nothing. He only snaps out of it when Kai slaps him upside the back of his head. ‘Compliment her already, dickhead, or I’m gonna. Explicitly.’
Heath coughs, chokes, as if he’s coming back to consciousness after a period in stasis. ‘Sorry. I think I just died for a second.’
The girls cackle.
Literally stumbling, Heath makes his way toward me. His hands find my hips only to immediately retreat, only for him to hiss like my bare skin has fucking burned him, only for him to replace his grip just as quickly. ‘Jesus, Dani.’
He’s drunk. Not, like, drunk drunk, but tipsy at least. No way he would be looking at me like that, with such blatant heat, if he was in full control of his faculties.
He did the other night, my consciousness takes great pleasure in reminding me. And it felt just as good as it does right now, didn’t it?
I punt that thought right out of my brain before it starts to fester. Before it swells to an overthought, and I ruin this night for myself before it even begins.
Pasting on my best attempt at an easy smile, I slink my arms around Heath’s neck. ‘Down, boy.’
He lets loose a canine yip that makes me laugh. His hands shift, flat against my lower back, dangerously close to caressing a different part of my anatomy entirely, ‘You look . . .’
His pause lasts too long, and I cluck my tongue impatiently. ‘Go on.’
‘Can’t.’ Two thumbs dig into each of the dimples framing my lower back. ‘Broken.’
God, I like this too much. ‘Maybe Kai can help you.’
‘Kai can die.’
I snort, the pads of my fingers scraping over short, bristled hair before touching sturdy fabric. ‘Seriously,’ I pull back a little, scanning his outfit once more. ‘What are you?’
‘Seriously,’ he sighs like he’s offended I don’t know. ‘You’ve never seen Step Up?’
A vague bell rings in my distant memory. ‘Oh. You’re the hot dancer guy?’
‘Yes, I am hot. Thank you, Dani.’ Heath pats the curve of my ass. ‘We’re adding a movie marathon to that list of yours.’
‘Kinky.’ Matilda waggles her brows suggestively as she hands out drinks, and admonishes everyone for not being on her level. ‘Where were you guys?’
‘Nowhere,’ the trio of guys chorus too quickly, exchanging looks that have us girls frowning at each other.
‘Well, that was believable,’ Imani drawls. ‘Try again.’
While Tweedledee and Tweedle-fucking-dum gaze at the ceiling, Brendan mumbles around the rim of his cup. ‘We just had something to do.’
‘Like what? Egg a house?’ Matilda jokes.
None of the guys laugh.
‘Oh my God. You were egging a house? Are you twelve?’
Some kind of internal alarm buried deep inside of me starts to wail. A sixth sense for fuckery. ‘Who’s house?’
No one answers – each of them make a really obvious effort not to look at me.
I study Heath. That gaze, cast low. The jaw, wound tight. The neck muscles beneath my palm, hard as rock. The very picture of guilt. ‘It was Ben’s, wasn’t it?’
‘We plead the fifth.’
‘What the hell?’ Matilda huffs, wings flapping erratically as she drops her hands to her hips. ‘And you didn’t invite us?’
‘It was a crime of passion,’ Kai insists.
‘Very spur of the moment,’ Brendan adds, in support of his friend’s claim.
Looking me dead in the eyes, Heath nods solemnly. ‘Not at all a premeditated offense.’
There’s a beat of silence. And then Imani, slow and sarcastic, starts to clap. ‘And the Oscar for worst acting ever goes to . . .’
Beyond flashing a trio of matching middle fingers, the guys ignore her. Each of them are focused on me, gauging my reaction, braced for it.
I think they each have a little teeny tiny heart attack, born of complete shock, when I smile. ‘I think that might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.’
‘Baby, that’s incredibly sad.’
My head falls to one side as I sigh. ‘Why do you have to ruin it?’
‘Did I say sad? I meant sexy.’
‘Hm.’
My eyes roll, and, God, Heath’s entire fucking face lights up.
He licks his fucking lips, and I would have to have the self-control of a god to resist rising up on my tiptoes and pressing my mouth to his, just for a silly, self-indulgent second.
Not for show even a little. For no one but myself. Just because I want to.
‘Hey.’ A dramatically cleared throat draws my attention sideways, to Kai, as he waves a questioning hand between him and Brendan. ‘We did it too. Where’s our kiss?’
Heath literally growls. A commitment to our little arrangement, or actual, genuine jealousy, I can’t quite tell. I don’t get the chance to dwell because he’s kissing me, hard, eyes half-open in a glare he fixes directly on his snickering best friend.
‘Rein it in, you two.’ A hand that does not belong to Heath whacks my ass – by the way he jolts, I’m pretty sure Imani gives him a slap too.
She throws a wink over her shoulder at both of us as she saunters into the hallway, red heels clacking against the tiled floor. ‘We’ve got trick or treating to do.’
While everyone else hoots and hollers their excitement, I frown. ‘Seriously?’
‘You know Bay Avenue? That street where, like, half of Cove College lives?’
My nose wrinkles as the name rings a particularly grating bell. Cove College, and one little Haven Cove University intruder. ‘Yeah.’
‘Every year, they do their own version of trick or treating.’
‘Let me guess, they’re not giving out candy?’
‘Depends on your definition of candy,’ Kai croons.
‘It’s usually cheap vodka Jello shots. Every house has a different flavor, you dip in, take a shot, move on to the next place, pick your favorite party, y’know.’
I don’t know, but I get the gist – I cross my fingers and pray it’s not quite the hellscape I’m imagining.
A warm hand engulfs mine, squeezing. ‘We can leave if it gets too hectic.’
I side-eye Heath. ‘Are you my boyfriend or my babysitter?’
Humming teasingly, he leans in for a quick, chaste kiss that feels too natural for my own good. ‘The first one. Thank God.’
‘I was wrong,’ Matilda warbles into my ear as we amble down Frat – sorry, Bay Avenue. Our arms linked at the elbow, she bumps her hip against mine playfully. ‘Heath’s not gonna die. He’s gonna kill someone.’