𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋, ghostface

𝟬𝟬𝟭. the innocent start

"EVIL RED, OR BLOOD red?" Tara asked, holding up two lipsticks, her eyes dancing with excitement.

I tilted my head, pretending to ponder, though I already knew the answer. "Go with evil," I said with a small shrug, glancing at myself in the mirror for the tenth time. "You know, pirates are like evil and whatever, so it fits perfectly." I tried to sound casual, like I was only half-interested, but in reality, I was just distracting myself from the knot of nerves building in my stomach.

As Tara applied the lipstick, Chad appeared at the doorway, leaning against the frame with his usual grin. "Hey ladies, you ready? We're just waiting on you now." His eyes lingered on Tara for a second too long, and I had to fight the urge to smirk.

He always found an excuse to come check on us, but it was obvious he was here for her. There was no way he saw her as just a friend — not with the way his eyes softened when he looked at her. Definitely not, I thought, with a hint of amusement creeping in.

"Yeah, we'll be out in less than five minutes, promise!" Tara reassured him, and I caught the way her cheeks flushed just a bit. I let my head drop so I could hide my smile. It was moments like these that made me feel like Cupid. Maybe it was silly, but I loved seeing sparks between people before they even knew they existed.

I turned back to the mirror, and my reflection stared back — serious, poised, like I was ready for takeoff. The Air Force uniform fit perfectly, and for a moment, I could imagine myself as one of those pilots from Top Gun. Ever since I was eight years old, I'd dreamed of being an Air Force fighter, of feeling the thrill of soaring through the skies, just like in the movies.

But as I got older, that dream slowly faded, like the contrails left behind by a jet. Even so, it never completely disappeared. Tonight, I was playing pretend, but it felt good, like I was keeping that piece of me alive.

PARTIES WEREN'T REALLY MY thing. It's not like I hated them, but they always felt like something I just showed up to because my friends wanted me there. I usually hung back, keeping my hair tied up like always and sticking with my trusty red Converse, the only shoes I really wore. They were comfortable, and I didn't have to think about them. If anyone asked, I'd just shrug it off — it's not like I needed to be flashy.

Back in school, people always reminded me that I looked nice when I put in the effort, but honestly, I barely noticed. Most of the time, I was busy with schoolwork, turning in assignments early or getting lost in a book. Sometimes I'd catch a glimpse of dark circles under my eyes in the mirror, probably from staying up late studying or reading, but it was whatever. That was just me.

But now here I am, spending my Halloween night partying at some rando's house, rather than watching my favourite spooky movies.

"Doesn't it bother you?" I snapped back to reality when I heard Anika's voice. She was looking at her girlfriend, asking, "Being at a house party, after you were almost brutally murdered, at a house party?"

I couldn't help but nod slightly. She wasn't wrong, it was a thought that had crossed my mind too. I glanced at Mindy, waiting for her response.

"No," Mindy says with a shrug. "I think of it like getting struck by lightning. The odds of it happening twice are about as likely as Jo leaving New York."

I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips. The city has its flaws — crowded streets, the constant hum of traffic, the neon lights that keep the night from ever really feeling dark.

But there's a pulse to it, a kind of energy I've never found anywhere else. It's home, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Huh," Anika nodded thoughtfully. "Then I guess, I should stay close to you."

I gagged, playfully putting my finger to my mouth. "Yeah, no- I'm out of here. I'm going to see what the guys are conspiring." I didn't bother to look back. I already knew they were probably making out.

When I found them, Chad and Evan were huddled together, deep in conversation as usual. They each had a shot glass in hand, and from the smell, I guessed it was vodka. Before Chad could down his, I snatched it out of his hand and knocked it back myself, the burn hitting me immediately.

"Hey!" He protested, his eyes wide. I just grinned, shrugging like it was no big deal. "This is for what you did to me on Tuesday."

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I told you, I'm sorry. I didn't know the ice cream was yours. I mean, you don't even live with us!"

I ignored his whining, turning instead to Evan, who was staring at me with those deep brown eyes, like he was trying to figure me out. "Evan? Hello? Are you there?" I waved a hand in front of his face.

He blinked, shaking his head like he was coming out of a trance. "Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

I raised an eyebrow, glancing between him and Chad. "You sure?"

He nodded, but there was something in his eyes that told me he wasn't totally here. Maybe it was the vodka, or maybe something else was on his mind.

Evan was one of those guys, who at first glance seemed like the textbook definition of a jock. The kind who always had that confident grin plastered on his face, who walked around like he owned the place, and who threw around jokes like they were the currency of his world.

He was loud and easy going, the type to high-five everyone in the room, even the people he barely knew. If you didn't know any better, you'd think there wasn't much to him beyond that classic, effortless charm. But I knew better.

I'd caught glimpses of the real Evan — the one who lingered when he thought no one was looking, who got this intense, almost thoughtful look in his eyes when he spaced out. Most people saw him as the golden boy, but I'd seen him nerd out over the strangest things when he thought no one was paying attention.

Like the time he launched into this whole debate about which Star Wars trilogy had the best lightsaber choreography or when he'd accidentally let slip that he'd spent hours customizing his character in some video game.

It's funny, he had this whole other side that didn't quite fit with the guy who dominated the basketball court and could charm anyone with a wink. It makes me sometimes wonder how many other people knew the real Evan, or if I was one of the special few who ever noticed the cracks in his cool guy mask.

AUTHORS NOTE
First chapter is a bit like an introduction, so no action yet- not that I can say that about the next chapter.

WARNING: English is not my first language and the sole purpose of this fanfic is just writing for fun, so please do not judge because I will delete hate comments or any stuff like that.

Anywho, if you see any mistakes please inform me by commenting on it, so I could fix it.

1.2k words

-romanoff