𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 ||The Girl Behind The Act||

Chapter 17

Ariana

It's here, the day of the Halloween party, and the moment when I tell Tristan everything. I can't decide if it's a brilliant idea, but I figure it's worth a shot, and tonight seems like the right time.

I trust him. I can't pinpoint when I started feeling that, but ever since the hospital incident, this new connection between us has been growing. So, I think it's a good call to lay out the truth. I don't want to mess up what we've got.

I gave myself a once-over in the mirror, checking out my costume. Shay, Joanna, and I agreed on cat-themed outfits. Not mascot costumes – think sexy cat girl dresses, cat ears, and all the Halloween vibes.

Shay's idea, so don't ask why we went with this, but honestly, I think we're gonna absolutely slay tonight.

The black strapless leather dress clings like a second skin, ending just above mid-thigh. Paired with my knee-high black leather boots, it's the perfect combo.

Hair's been perfectly curled, cascading down my back. And, yep, there's a cat ear headband. Makeup: dark eye shadow, blood-red lipstick, and green contacts for that cat-like flair.

Again, all thanks to Shay's genius.

The girls have arrived and they honked at the car from outside. I snagged my phone and small clutch and dashed out to meet them.

"Meow girl, you're smokin' hot'!" Shay's voice purrs from her brother's black BMW. Borrowed for the night, of course.

"Switch seats; I'm driving," I declare, and they pull faces.

"Why? I'm comfy here; I ain't moving to the back," Joanna protests like it's her car.

"Because I'm staying sober to drive us home later. Let me play chauffeur for a bit." Joanna reluctantly shuffles to the back as I take the wheel. I beam at them.

"Happy Halloween, ladies!" I chime with a wink.

"Happy Halloween!" they chorus, and I realize our green contact lenses glow in the dark. Sweet.

We cruise to the party jamming to Ariana Grande's "Don't Call Me Angel," belting out the lyrics.

Namesake always delivers the perfect tunes – bless her angelic voice.

We roll up at Tristan's decked-out party pad. The place is almost unrecognizable.

Exiting the car, we gawk at the mansion draped in cobwebs, pumpkin patches, and skeleton props. The blasting music adds a shivery vibe.

I have to hand it to them; the decor's top-notch. We breeze past a gang of zombie guys with red cups, their catcalls met with flirty grins.

Inside's a sensory overload: thumping pop tunes, a sea of costumed folks dancing, making out, or just standing around.

"Meow! My kittens!" Josh's voice booms, and we spot him and Tristan striding over. Hot doesn't even begin to cover it.

Both rocking sleek black suits and ties, hair slicked to the side, they're pure suave. There's something about guys in suits that just hits differently.

Reaching us, they slip off their shades, winking in tandem.

"And what're you two supposed to be?" Joanna smirks.

"We're the men in black, baby. Keeping an eye out, especially on you three," Josh fires back, earning a grin from Joanna.

"Jacob!" Shay hollers across the room and our attention shifts to Jacob heading our way, red cups in hand – one for him and one for Shay, no doubt.