Chapter 25
It took several days for me to convince Phantom to come to the party.
Apparently, it’s one of the biggest bashes of the year, falling on the Friday before Thanksgiving break.
Franco and Zayne are hosting it at their house this year, and now that I know all of my favorite people are going to be there, I am so ready to celebrate.
I curl my hair and throw it up into a high ponytail to get it off my neck.
Then, I paint a full face of makeup, adding little dots of silver liquid eyeliner in line with my dark irises on the lower lids.
They glisten in the vanity light as I move my face back and forth appreciatively.
Finishing up the look with a dark plum lip stain, I exit the bathroom to dress.
“Someone’s pulling out all the stops tonight,” Iris comments as I slip into a silky dark purple dress with loose, billowy sleeves.
“No,” I assure her as I step into sheer black tights. “This outfit’s just new.”
“Mhm,” Iris harrumphs, eyeing me up and down with another one of her suspicious looks.
My stomach squirms guiltily. “What? It’s not like my boyfriend is going to be here to appreciate it.”
“Who said I thought you were wearing it for your boyfriend?” She cocks an eyebrow in challenge.
I shrug my shoulders, trying my best to appear casual. “Well, who else would it be for?”
“That’s a great question. I have no idea.” Her eyes bore right through my own. She definitely knows I’m hiding someone.
Shit.
Thankfully, though, she drops the subject like a rock in a stream. “Anyway, the more important question right now is: how do I look?”
She twirls in a circle for me. There’s no denying she looks great in her faux leather high-waisted skirt, crop top, and Doc Martens. She finishes off the ensemble with a cropped red leather jacket. “Well, we’d better get going or we’ll be late.”
I put on a coat and throw my phone and a few necessities into a small shoulder bag before following Iris out into the hall. When I get there, Emmy is waiting with her in a matching black set that’s giving off some serious girl boss vibes.
“Em, you look fantastic,” I say as I lock our door.
“Thanks, love,” she replies, flicking an icy blonde ringlet over her shoulder. “You’re looking hot too.”
I blush, grinning like an idiot.
“I still say she’s trying to impress someone,” Iris mutters under her breath, but I ignore her. As we make our way out of the building, my heart rate picks up.
By now, I have the route to the guy’s house memorized.
Four quick rights, about a half mile straight, and then a left, and we’re there.
The music is blaring inside, just like my first night at Lizbeth.
I check my phone to see if Phantom’s texted yet, but my notification center is empty.
So, I text them instead, letting them know I’m here.
For a second, I worry they might stand me up.
Parties like this definitely aren’t their scene.
But I force the thought away. Phantom wouldn’t do that to me.
I asked them—no, begged them—to come, and they said they would.
Phantom will be here.
We find Zayne and Franco right away, helping a group of guys carry a keg into the living room.
Franco releases a low whistle when he sees us approaching. “Damn.”
He loses his grip on the keg and we laugh as the others falter under the weight and drop it with a thud to the carpeted floor. They all curse at him, but Franco’s no longer listening.
“It’s a pleasure to be in your company tonight, ladies,” he schmoozes with a drunken smirk.
“Please, it’s always a pleasure to be in our company,” Emmy retorts, brushing him off.
“I can’t disagree with that, now, can I?”
Gesturing to the freshly tapped keg, Zayne asks, “Drink anyone?”
“Sure,” we say in unison after sharing an appreciative glance. Since we’ll be the first ones drinking from it, it’s bound to be safe.
After our red solo cups are full and handed out, Zayne lifts his up in a toast. “The first semester of our sophomore year is quickly coming to a close. May we revel in the memories we’ve made thus far, and honor them by living like tonight is our last.”
“I’ll cheers to that,” Franco enthuses, clinking his plastic cup against Zayne’s.
We all follow suit, and I drain half my cup in one gulp. That sounds like a wonderful plan to me.
The library’s been converted into a dance floor again, just like before, only this time all five of us dominate the space. As we move and sway to the upbeat rhythm, I feel lighter, as if I’ve been filled with helium and am no longer bound by the laws of gravity.
By the time I finish my second drink, I’m sweaty from dancing and my mind is buzzing. I check my phone again. No texts from Phantom. I look at the time. 11:30 PM. Despite knowing I’ll fail miserably, I try to douse the anger that burns within me.
They’re late.
Leaving the others behind on the dance floor, I head for the kitchen.
When I get there, I grab a glass from one of the cabinets and fill it with water before drinking deeply.
Once my thirst is properly sated, I wander around the party looking for Phantom, but that damn smiley face mask is nowhere to be found.
When I reenter the kitchen, Claire asks, “What’s wrong?”
“I—um, nothing.”
She gives me a knowing look, lips cocked to the side and eyebrows arched. I always forget how perceptive Claire is.
Sighing, I admit, “A friend promised me they’d show up tonight, and they haven’t.”
“Yet,” she says with a glimmer of hope in her eyes. It’s infectious.
“Right. They haven’t shown up yet.”
“So, enjoy yourself until they do. Okay? If they’re a true friend, they won’t let you down.”
“Thanks.” Desperate for something to do with my hands, I grab a fresh beer from the tub on the island. “You’re a kind person, you know that?”
Her freckled cheeks turn rosy and she responds with a quick hug before leaving the room.
I take a drink from the sweating bottle in my hand, picking at the sleeves of my dress with the other. Suddenly, I feel self-conscious. Why did I decide to wear this dress tonight? Was it for Phantom after all? Now that it looks like they might end up ghosting me, I feel ridiculous in it.
I consider going back to the dance floor, but ultimately decide against it since my feet are growing sore. Instead, I climb the main staircase with the goal of checking out the photographs that line the upstairs hallway. There’s one near the spare bedroom I painted in that I especially like.
When I make it to the second-floor landing, I look around, trying to orient myself.
I haven’t been up here in a while, but I’m pretty sure the photograph I like is to my left.
As I walk down the hall, it dawns on me I’m alone.
In a house packed with people, here in this narrow hallway, I’m completely alone.
Being alone used to make me sad, anxious even, before Phantom.
But I’ve learned an important lesson from them over the past few weeks in that regard.
They’ve helped me learn how to enjoy my own company, in a way, or at the very least tolerate it.
I used to be afraid of being trapped alone with my thoughts, but now that I don’t judge them as much, it’s not so scary.
I let them live and breathe and then fade away.
They might not always be happy or helpful thoughts, but they’re mine, and I don’t have to run from them, because .
. . I’m not someone worth running away from.
Turns out Phantom’s helping me face my fears, just like they’re facing their own.
I walk to the end of the hall and stop before a photograph of a wire metal heart warping and melting within the depths of a red-hot fire.
I step back to lean against the opposite wall as I study the photo.
I tip my head to the side and catch a glimpse of green in my periphery.
A bedroom door hangs ajar to the left of the photograph.
Intrigued, I push myself off the wall and prod the door open.
The room beyond is full of thriving potted house plants, the walls plastered with beautiful sketches.
I smile to myself as I realize this must be Franco’s room.
“Maeve.”
My every muscle freezes. I’d know that voice saying my name anywhere.
“You came,” I whisper, but don’t turn around. The alcohol in my system seems to suddenly hum in my veins, making me feel faint.
My ears perk up at the sound of a soft metal clink. I glance over my shoulder to find the door closed and Phantom’s fingers on the lock, their two-toned gaze roving over me. My stomach bottoms out, and I whip my head back toward Franco’s potted jungle.
My aching heart thumps an insistent, dizzying rhythm; the room blurs before my eyes.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t disappoint you again,” they say, their tone low and from much closer than they were a moment ago.
Guilt slithers through my core as my eyes roll into the back of my head at the husky sound of their voice. I relax my shoulders, trying to shake the sensation off, and gasp softly as one of the sleeves of my dress falls down my arm, exposing my bare shoulder.
The heat of Phantom’s touch startles me as they gently take my sleeve and slide it back to its rightful place, covering me once more.
I feel the warmth of their body, so close to mine, against the skin of my neck, and silently curse myself for choosing to wear my hair up.
The scent of peppermint fills the room, making my mouth water.
“Thanks,” I breathe.
“You’re a work of art tonight, Maeve,” they whisper in my ear, their scalding hand still over the thin, satin fabric of my dress.
My stomach swoops. The heat of their palm moves, leaving the skin on my shoulder tingling, as the barely-there caress of their finger drifts slowly up the curve of my neck.