No one would look at Rachel and think she's the type of person who likes horror movies and gore, but play a bloody slasher film and she's there with bells on. Which naturally makes Halloween one of her favorite holidays. Until she got together with Harris.
"Our second Halloween and he's still all about the cutesy costumes," she mutters, sloshing a scoop of spiked punch into my cup. "It's the one day of the year where you can be a little weird, but god forbid we go outside of the box for anything."
We're at Tucker Meyer's Halloween party, and as someone who's watched Rachel take advantage of the weirdness of this day forever, I feel for her. She's a zombie cheerleader and Harris is a zombie football player, minimal on the zombie part. Last year they were a polished prince and princess.
"At least he's sort of coming around to the gore of it," I say, motioning to one of the gashes in her arms.
She gives me a tired look before she downs her cup of punch. Even her zombie makeup is too reined in for her. It's too neat and subtle. Too pretty. As for myself, I've only really been into Halloween as a kid, and unlike Rachel, I hate horror movies. But I wasn't going to turn down a costume party for Matt, and like Harris, he's not a fan of the gore either.
Harris calls her over from across the room, and she plasters on a smile as she steals my drink to take with her. I reach for another cup, but it's snatched from under my fingertips.
"Too slow, angel."
My frown melts when I meet Nate's eyes. "I'm not an angel."
He scans over my body as he pours his drink. "Pretty girl in a pretty white dress, wings to match... you look like an angel to me."
"I'm Juliet." I reach for another cup, hiding my heated cheeks. "From Romeo and Juliet. The nineties version, where she's dressed as an angel, so you're technically right."
"Hm. Guess that makes Matt a young Leo. What a coincidence."
I don't hide my confusion, looking over his costume that screams anything but Leonardo DiCaprio. A green shirt with—abs drawn on with a sharpie? And a blue strip of cloth wrapped around his head with two holes cut out for his eyes.
"Um..."
Nate takes a sip, laughing into his cup. "Ninja Turtle Leo."
"Oh." I poke his ab-like turtle shell shirt. "That is the laziest costume I have ever seen."
"Well, between you and me, we just came for the free food and drinks." He nods to his right, and I spot the other turtles. All in just as sloppily scraped together costumes as Nate.
Blake and Rob are fake ninja fighting while Ollie plays with a set of nunchucks. For a last minute group costume, at least they nailed the characters. And I only know who's who because Rob made me watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with him when we were kids.
Rob's in a red bandana - Raphael. Rude and reckless down to a T. Ollie's in a purple bandana - Donatello. Calm and smart and rational. Blake's in orange - Michelangelo. Fun and laidback, obsessed with pizza. Which leaves Leonardo, the leader.
"What about April? Anyone filling that role?" I ask, looking around the costumed crowd. Alex would fit into April O'Neil's shoes, Clara too. But I'm more curious about Alex's participation.
Nate observes his drink. "Nope. Just the turtles tonight."
I find it so hard to read Nate sometimes. His airiness could mean he actually listened to me about breaking the cycle and he doesn't want to admit it, or he could be skirting her as a topic because he'll never end it. He's a blank page.
"There you are, babe." Matt descends on me from nowhere, pulling me into him. "God I missed you."
"You saw me five minutes ago." I try edging away, watching Nate avert his eyes. Matt's hands grope me harder, sliding lower.
"Felt like longer." He's nuzzling my neck, and I wish I could say his boosted PDA is because he's just done a bunch of shots with Carter and Sean, but it's been a lot like this since that night he slept over. Since the I love yous.
I manage to unstick him, hardly.
"Really in character, huh, Romeo?" Nate chirps.
Matt's unfocused eyes settle on him like it's a chore, his arms still bound around me. I don't know if it's his grip or the bulky Romeo knight costume that's giving me claustrophobia.
"What're you supposed to be?"
"Ninja Turtle."
"Cool." Matt smirks, but it's not charming like usual. It's mean.
"Yeah. And Romeo and Juliet, quite a choice. Tragic love story that ends in multiple deaths and a mountain of destruction." Nate gives him a sardonic smile. "Romantic."
Matt's face darkens. "We're focusing more on the love story part."
He grabs my hand, carting me away from Nate to get sucked into the crowd.
I shake out of his grasp on the other side of the room. "What are you doing? I was talking to him!"
"Didn't think there was anything left to say."
"Well there was."
I make a start across the room, but he catches my wrist. "I don't like the way he acts with you," he shouts over the pumping music. "Like he knows you better than I do."
The line between his eyebrows is deeper than I've ever seen it. I glance at Carter throwing back another shot. One mention of anything between me and Nate could be enough to get in Matt's head, and it's not like I'd put it past Carter to play mind games like that. No matter what he claims about us being genuine friends.
I shift all of my attention to Matt. "Where's this coming from?"
"Nowhere. It's not..." He sighs, rubbing his jaw hard. "It's not just Miller. I'd feel the same about any guy you're close with, and I know you're close with him, and that's fine. Whatever. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."
"So you're just not going to like any guy I'm close with? Ever? That's—"
"Unreasonable? Irrational? Insane?"
"Yes!"
"You make me unreasonable and irrational and insane, Lia." He tugs me in at the waist. "I don't know how anyone could be in love with you and not feel like their brain's going to implode. It's torture."
"It's melodramatic."
"It's love." He leans down and kisses me, digging his fingers in as he sways. I can taste the vodka on his tongue in seconds.
Like always, I'm under his spell in an electrified heartbeat. But there isn't a spell in the world that would make me forget the clusters of spectators around us.
I recoil from his breath tickling my throat. "Everyone's watching us."
"Let them," he murmurs, his fingers groping the hem of my dress so fervently I'm sure I just flashed the entire party.
I twist out of his hold and give him a warning look. With his breath of frustration, I know my hint has made it through his unsober head. He rakes back his ruffled hair before he leads me to a room upstairs.
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