boston {h.s.}

vingt-six.*

Jack offers me a hand when I get out of the car.

It's not a very glamorous scene, despite how cosmopolitan it makes me feel as I step one leg at a time out of the car. Chatter echoes around the parking garage around us. Each of us had arrived separately: Jack in one car with most of his hockey boys, me and Asher in one car, and Harry and Coley in another. Despite that, we had all arrived at somewhat the same time. We even managed to park three in a row at the parking garage that we had chosen for the event. None of us had wanted to valet—we didn't want the paparazzi pictures of us stepping out of the car. For an event like this, paparazzi is inevitable. All the sports teams wanted the good press of being seen walking into a charity event this big. Theoretically it undoes all of the bad press—the angry tweets and the DUIs.

I got ready at Asher's apartment instead. A bunch of Jack's friends were coming over to pregame before the event—in spite of the open bar that is being featured. Notably, Harry was arriving separately. From what I could gather, he was at Coley's getting ready. Vaguely envious, I removed myself from the situation and simply got ready at my boyfriend's apartment.

"You look great," Jack compliments as I shut the car door behind me, adjusting my things to make sure that I have everything that I need.

"Daisy Buchanan for you," I nudge him playfully as I walk around the car to join the group of people that is herding towards the exit. The party itself is only a block away at a nice hotel. "Goose?" I reach out and touch the patch of a name-tag attached to the breast of his knock-off Top Gun jumpsuit. It's one of my brother's favorite movies. He's had this costume since he was in high school and I think he's worn it at least once a year since.

"Of course." He gives me a cheeky smile as he nods us over to the crowd of our friends.

When I round the corner, Asher is already there waiting for me. Asher and I aren't the type of couple to match on Halloween. Though this is only our second Halloween spent together, this is something that we are both on the same page about. I enjoy dressing up as literary characters, and he prefers being Disney heroes too much for us to attempt to find some poor attempt at a costume where we try to meet in the middle. This year is no exception to that. I'd gone as Daisy Buchanan from The Great Gatsby and am decked out in a sequined and diamond dress, needlessly extravagant pearls, and my hair is pinned up in the iconic curls with a diamond headband. Across from me, Asher is dressed up as Woody from Toy Story. He looks absolutely adorable.

My eyes slowly scan over the rest of the crowd in front of us. Bracken is dressed up as Han Solo from Star Wars, Wheeler is in an Elvis costume, Rooney is done up like Captain America, and the new girl that is on his arm is an overly sexy cop. "Margs!" Rooney cheers, being the first one to see me. "I love the look, bestie!"

Already, I can tell that he is intoxicated. It doesn't happen easily, nor does it happen frequently. But, when it does, it is always a good show for everyone involved. Smiling, I walk over to him. My heels clack loudly and echo across the parking garage. Standing just beside him now, I mock a salute. "That's America's ass."

"My girl!" He cheers loudly, hip bumping me. The force of his movements sends me flying. With only a second of delay he reaches out to steady me. "Sorry," he sheepishly blushes with an apologetic look on his face.

Catching his gaze, I cock my head to the side. Beside him, a girl is watching us interact with a slightly bored expression. My eyebrows are raised, only slightly, in a question of identity. Though I've never seen her before, I've seen her kind however many times that he has introduced another one of his girls to me.

"Veronica, V," by speaking her name, he catches her attention. "This is Margeaux."

I share that signature look with Asher. The kind where it is obvious that we are both rolling our eyes, but we are both too polite to physically roll our eyes. Yet another woman that will undoubtedly be attached to our hip tonight as the boys are forced to run in their circles and mingle. "Nice to meet you," I say, extending my hand to shake hers.