Chapter 46
Lily
Stationed at the kitchen counter with an array of face paint laid out before me, I began dabbing a small sponge of white paint across Seb’s face.
“Try not to smile unless you want smile lines included with the costume,” I said.
Seb schooled his features as best he could. “Yes, ma’am.”
Kira, snapping photos of the process, grinned from behind her camera. “I guarantee he lasts five seconds.”
“Shhh, I’m trying to focus,” Seb said, a smile already dimpling his cheek.
He was going as a gender bent Harley Quinn. The costume consisted of a red and black dress vest, no shirt beneath, leather pants — one leg red, the other black — big red boots, and black fingerless gloves.
The face paint was the final touch. All white with the plan to paint black diamonds around his eyes and to color his top lip with more black paint that would extend towards his cheeks, giving him a wider, clown-like smile.
Kira was going as Poison Ivy. She had the hair for it and the love for plants.
She only had to slip into the skintight, sleeveless, green one-piece and a pair of green, floral, lace leggings, and she was already in character.
I added hand-painted, delicate vines and leaves across her collarbones, along her arms, and down one side of her face.
Kira did the rest of the makeup, transforming into a costume so gorgeous that Seb was speechless for several minutes when she walked out of her bedroom.
After work earlier today, we had all made a last-minute shop at any dollar stores and thrift stores that sold anything that could be used in our costumes.
My costume was straight from the roaring twenties.
The dress was detailed with silver and white, and included a matching sequin shawl and headpiece.
I even managed to style my hair to resemble the style of that time with a lot of bobby pins.
My makeup was the only thing to have more of a modern twist. Alongside some traditional dark lip and eyeliner, Kira insisted on adding glittering eye shadow and several tiny eye gems to finish the look.
I was sparkling from head to toe.
Literally and figuratively.
The first session with Doctor Hamdan had truly done wonders, and tonight was genuinely something I was looking forward to celebrating, regardless of what would come after. I was focusing on the present.
I glanced over at the reason for the celebration.
Sitting on the couch, staring off in content as he twirled a fake hunting knife around his fingers.
Dean wore all black — a black long-sleeved shirt that was tight enough to reveal the muscle beneath, black jeans, and big black combat boots.
It wasn’t very different from his usual attire, except he had a ghostly mask sitting in his lap.
He went without the robe, deciding to keep it all minimalistic.
And looked absolutely delicious doing it.
Seb chuckled, looking side-on at Dean and keeping his face still for me. “He looks way too comfortable with a knife.”
The comment pulled Dean from his stare, and he flashed us a lopsided smile as he gave the knife another twirl for emphasis.
I bit my lip as I smiled and continued with the face paint, this time adding the black lines around Seb’s lips and carefully painting the diamonds over his eyes.
The choice not to match my costume with Dean was made out of safety.
On the off chance I was recognized by anyone working for the triplets, they wouldn’t spot Dean — this was my way of protecting him.
His tattoos were mostly covered, and he would be wearing a mask so popular for Halloween, no one would look twice at him.
He could move through crowds almost unnoticed.
Tonight was about his 27th birthday, and no one was going to ruin that. Seb and Kira had also found a nightclub in Bushwick that was as far from the triplets and Antonio as possible.
When I was done painting Seb’s face, I held up a mirror for him to see. “What do you think?”
The black lines along his cheeks succeeded in making his smile look eerily wider. “I love it.”
“Okay, photo time,” Kira beamed, hurrying over to the bookshelf by my bedroom door to set up her camera. Seb jumped off his stool to get into a pose on the other side of the living room.
Dean stood, stretched in a way that lifted the hem of his shirt, and then pulled on his mask and slid the fake knife through a belt loop on his jeans. When he noticed me watching, he tilted his head as he approached me, tugging up his sleeves a little.
His new tattoo, the two small birds I drew on his wrist, were still fresh.
To think my drawing was now a permanent mark on his skin made my heart flutter.
It didn’t have the same possessiveness that a name tattoo could hold, but instead showed a type of commitment. And general appreciation for the art.
I grinned. “You’re enjoying that costume, aren’t you?”
He shrugged, bringing his hands to my waist once I was in reach. “Just a little.”
“Guys, come on. Group photo.” Seb grabbed Dean’s arm and dragged him over to get in the shot.
I followed with a skip in my step while Kira set the timer and jogged over to join us.
We posed in character first, and did a few more casual and funny ones, flexing biceps or pulling faces.
And then, in a flurry of costume touch-ups, grabbing wallets, bags, and keys, and booking an Uber, we made our way from the apartment.
Dean’s body warmth thawed out my shivers as we walked along a lively sidewalk in Bushwick. My thin shawl had done nothing against the October cold.
Almost every stranger was dressed in costume, and we passed several people who wore the same mask as Dean. The only thing that gave him away to us was his height and broad shoulders.
Seb and Kira led the way, locked in a quiet discussion about something while also checking their phones and pointing at buildings and street signs.
“Are we lost?” Dean’s voice was muffled by his mask.
“No…” Seb responded.
“Our Uber dropped us off a little further than necessary,” Kira added, throwing a sheepish smile over her shoulder. Her curls bounced with every step.
“You gave him the wrong address, didn’t you?” Dean tilted his head, and I could almost see the unimpressed but slightly humored expression through his mask.
Seb held up a finger as he continued checking his phone. “Shush.”
“Apart from the cold, it’s a nice walk,” I offered with a shrug.
Dean tilted his head, definitely deadpanning at me. “Your teeth were chatterin’ before.”
“Okay, but it’s still nice to just be here, with you. Regardless of the fact we’re freezing our asses off,” I smiled, crossing my arms as I looked up at him. “Happy b—”
I staggered as my heel caught in a grate, leading me to hop right out of the shoe with my hand clutching Dean for balance.
Without a word, he crouched down and plucked the heel from between the metal and then took the time to guide my foot back into the shoe.
His hand rested on my calf until he dared to skim it up behind my knee.
A warm, simple but loving caress that sent my heart soaring as he lowered my foot to the ground again.
I couldn’t see his eyes, but I knew they were on my face the entire time.
It made me blush.
Dean stood and offered his elbow.
I took it gladly, reembracing that warmth. “Why, thank you, sir.”
We were three drinks in, and I offered to order the fourth round. I was lightly buzzed by the alcohol and feeling almost untouchable as confidence soaked through my body.
I leaned on the bar as I waited for one of the bartenders. Across the crowded dance floor, where bright colorful lights flashed over dancing strangers in costumes, I could see our mini table, where Dean, Seb, and Kira waited, enjoying the music and atmosphere.
The smile on my face hadn’t diminished since the night began, and I doubted anything could make it fade.
Until an arm brushed against mine, followed by the voice of a man leaning in to speak to me as he arrived at the bar.
“Hey, beautiful,” he slurred. There was already a drink in his hand. “Watcha doin’ sittin’ here all alone?”
“I’m here with someone.” I focused my attention on the action behind the bar, hoping my lack of interest in him would diminish his interest in me.
It didn’t.
He leaned closer with a smirk on his face. “Sure, sweetie.”
With a quiet sigh, I turned and pointed to the area across the room. The drunk followed the direction of my finger. “See the tall guy in the mask? The one looking this way? That’s who I’m here with.”
He laughed. “How’d I know you didn’t just point out the meanest looking guy here? I think you’re playin’ hard to get.”
“Suit yourself, but I did warn you… You also have maybe twenty-ish seconds to move.”
To my disgust, he leaned even closer, blanketing my senses with the stench of his breath. “Or what, doll?”
The smile on my face was neither impressed nor genuine. It was pure tipsy confidence and pettiness because I knew this man was not winning tonight.
“Scary boyfriend privilege,” I said, nodding in the direction beyond his shoulder.
He rolled his eyes and had another look. The smugness quickly dropped from his expression as he took in the sight of the 6’3” masked man heading straight through the crowd. Never mind the people around him, he was locked in.
The confidence in his stride created goosebumps along my arms and legs. I was about to melt into the bar.
To my mild surprise, Dean wasn’t approaching the stranger. He was coming to me.
I turned to face him, leaning back against the bar as he lifted his mask enough to reveal his jawline and lips. The second his boots were planted on either side of my feet, he cupped the back of my head, and kissed me so strongly my heart rate skyrocketed.
There was whiskey on his tongue, cologne on his clothes, and a deep hum from his throat that vibrated softly to my lips. He pulled me closer.