Turning Grace (The Turning Series, Book 1)

by J.Q. Davis

  Chapter 10

  The Call

  The rest of my day became much brighter. I informed Phoebe of the addition to our Halloween festivities. She, of course, was over the moon and couldn’t wait to notify Eric of our plans.

  We discussed our final plans during lunch, which were to meet at my house for seven in the evening and start off with some haunted house hopping. From there, we would visit all of the old, spooky haunted sites New Orleans had to offer, beginning with a visit to Marie Laveau’s grave at the Saint Louis Cemetery No. 1 (a woman infamous for voodoo back in her day), Mona Lisa Drive (a very creepy, abandoned road lined with oak trees and Spanish moss), Hangman’s Tree (a tree standing all alone that resembles the face of a slave that was once hung there many years ago), and ending with an all-night slasher movie fest. All the while, I would have Tristen next to me. Oh yeah, this Halloween was going to be the best of them all, and I fully intended on ending the night with a kiss better than what Sonny displayed.

  Phoebe made sure to let Tristen in on our plans, for insurance purposes. Sonny was already going to be furious when she found out Tristen was doing something else for Halloween. All I needed was for her to catch me even looking at him. I wanted to avoid confrontation at all costs and ultimately just leave all of the dirty parts to Tristen.

  On my walk home, I rehashed the night Tristen and I took our walk to remember. Excluding Fluffy and the vomit scene, I focused on his touch and the way his eyes sparkled as he opened up his deepest thoughts to me. He was soulful. I liked that.

  I stopped at the corner store to grab a soda before I reached the house. During my search for cash to pay the clerk, I found a tiny piece of paper in my back pocket. I finally paid the man and continued on with my short walk home, unfolding the yellow Post-it.

  Megan 760-555-7589

  I had completely forgot about it. I grabbed my cell phone out of my Hobo bag and proceeded to dial Megan’s number. I wasn’t really sure why I was calling. I knew Mom had some secrets; at least about Dad. But honestly, I didn’t have the slightest clue what I was going to say to this person.

  “Hi you’ve reached Megan. Sorry I couldn’t answer, but please leave a message and I’ll call you back. Thanks.”

  I hung up. I already wasn’t sure of what I was going to say, I didn’t want to leave a mysterious message for the lady. I would just have to call back.

  Following the smell of food cooking on our stove, I walked straight into the house and into the kitchen. Mom was setting out the plates. She looked up when I entered the room. “Hi, Grace. How was school?”

  “It was good.” I sat down at the dining table, still feeling some tension between us. I wasn’t sure when we were going to get past it, but honestly I just wanted to get through the weekend without any input from her.

  She brought over the pot and started to pour the pot roast filled with an array of colors onto the plate in front of me. The steam was rising from the food, a beefy scent found its way into my nose. Of course without the use of utensils, I buried my fingers in. It burned, but I didn’t care. I continued to dig in.

  The food entered my mouth and without barely a chew, it rolled down my throat. As soon as it hit my stomach, I could feel my blood coursing through my veins at a rapid pace. My eyes were closed, because for some reason I found that if I closed my eyes while I ate, I could taste the food even better. I visualized what it did to my insides. I imagined broken molecules throughout my body and once the food made its way down, the broken molecules just magically bound back together. It was mentally satisfying.

  After finishing my pot roast, beef short ribs, Mediterranean salad, brown rice, and taco casserole, Mom cleared the plates off the table. With my body replenished, I helped and handed her the dirty dishes to wash.

  “So, Gracie, you will have leftovers along with some other food I prepared in the fridge for you this weekend.”

  “This weekend? What’s this weekend?” I asked, suddenly feeling as though I missed something.

  “I have to go to Arizona, dear. Don’t you remember?”

  With everything that had happened, I completely forgot my mom was going out of town for work. This weekend just took a whole other turn for the better.

  I couldn’t contain my smile.

  “Oh gosh, what do you have planned?” she asked, concern beginning to show on her face.

  “Nothing! Phoebe and I are going to do our usual for Halloween. You know, haunted house hopping and then some bloody movies.” I wouldn’t dare make it known to her that Tristen and Eric would be with us. I was almost certain she would cancel her weekend…or maybe even quit her job before she let that happen.

  She stared at me for a moment, possibly trying to read my face for lies. “I really wish you girls would watch something else other than those horrible movies,” she finally said. “They are so grotesque.”

  “No they’re not. They’re fun! Exciting, thrilling, and sometimes even funny.”

  “Well, just make sure that you eat. Oh, and I already packed some snacks for you. Actually, let me go ahead and put them in your purse now before you forget.”

  She grabbed what seemed like eight tons of sandwich baggies filled with her homemade goodies and stuffed them into my purse that was hanging on dining room chair. Everything from dried fruit, beef jerky, trail mix, pork rinds, candy, and some more beef jerky were stuffed in the bags. Oh, and let’s not forget a thermos filled with her amazing pomegranate juice.

  “And here is some cash,” she added. “This should take care of all the haunted houses. Are you girls coming back here to watch those terrible movies?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, well, be sure to text me throughout the weekend. And please, please be careful, Grace. If anything…strange happens, just call me.”

  “You mean, if I decide to dine on another helpless animal?”

  “Grace, it’s not a joke,” she said sternly.

  “Well, it’s kind of funny. Remember when I was all like ‘Mom, I just ate a cat!’ ”

  “Grace Elizabeth! That is enough!” She was getting upset.

  “Okay, I was just making light of the situation. Yes, I will call if anything is wrong. Okay?”

  “That’s all I ask. Well, I have to get up early for my flight. I love you, Gracie,” she said softly. She took me into a hug and of course, I hugged back. I supposed I couldn’t be mad at her forever. And besides, she was leaving for the weekend, which was amazing. It was like a gift to me from her. Tristen and I…alone. Well, Phoebe and Eric would be here, but I was sure they would probably not be anywhere in sight.

  As we headed up the stairs together, I stopped her midway. “Mom, do you think I should go with Dr. Roberson?”

  She gripped my hands into hers and sighed.

  “Grace, I want you to do whatever you want to do. Of course I don’t want you to go. But I believe that it will only help you.” She grabbed a piece of my hair and flung it over my shoulder. “I fear that if you don’t go, things will only get worse.”

  “But how? Mom, what is wrong with me?” I asked with sheer desperation in my tone. “Why do I wake up looking like death and eat like a horse and feed on things with a pulse? Am I some kind of freak? Do I have a disease? Is it going to kill me?”

  “Honey, I believe that Dr. Roberson should be the one to answer all of your questions because this is what he specializes in.”

  “But you’re a doctor too.” I didn’t understand why she just couldn’t explain it all to me.

  “I was a doctor. Now I’m just an assistant.” I could tell the reality of that stung her heart a little.

  This wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I wanted her to tell me what to do. As much as I would rather her not do that in other aspects of my life, I wanted her to be straight with me and tell me what to do about this whole situation. Instead, she was giving me leg room to make my own choices. So not the time.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Honey, do what
you believe will be best not only for right now, but for your future. Dr. Roberson says this is only going to get worse without treatment. But you can change that.”

  “Why aren’t you forcing me to go? It’s so…unlike you.”

  She took a deep breath and put her hand on my back, gesturing for us to continue up the stairs. “Grace, you’re getting older now. I realize that I can’t tell you what to do anymore. And it’s a big decision to leave your friends, your school, me…I can’t push this on you. I can only support you. Obviously this is a very serious matter. As much as I want to tie you up and put you on that plane not now, but right now, I just can’t do that. If you decide not to go, I will figure out what we can do to make sure you are healthy. I have done so your whole life. Dr. Roberson already told me that he would send people here to help. Besides, this type of treatment requires you to want to go.”

  Still not what I wanted to hear!

  She kissed my forehead. “Goodnight, honey. I will see you on Monday morning.”

  And just like that, she closed her bedroom door. I stood on the landing of our stairs, wondering what just happened. How could she just leave it to me to make what was probably going to be the biggest decision of my life? From what I understood, if I didn’t go, I could probably die. If I did go, I would probably live. At least longer. But I couldn’t just leave. I couldn’t just leave my life, the life that I had known for so long. The only life that I knew. How could I live in another place where I wouldn’t know anyone else, where I would be completely vulnerable and completely alone? This was literally a life or death situation. So why wasn’t she forcing me to go?

  Or why wasn’t I just saying yes already? And the worst part was that I had absolutely no idea what was threatening my life. Apparently, something was in my body that wasn’t supposed to be there. Or maybe there really wasn’t anything wrong with me. Dr. Roberson never actually said that I could die from this. He just said it would get worse.

  That familiar, sharp, pain shot through my intestines, followed by a hungry growl. I hunched over and grabbed the banister, as this one was worse than usual.

  Yeah, something was definitely wrong with me.

  My legs instantly began to weigh down. The throbbing in my head quickly grew stronger and the rest of my body immediately ached.

  On my trudge back to the kitchen, the sound of the waves crashing off the coast of Costa Rica rang through my ears.

  I could hear voices, but I saw no one. It was dark. Completely dark. I couldn’t see my hands. The smell of salt was in the air. The sound of waves were near. I searched, desperately trying to find some sign of light in the distance. Nothing. I didn’t move forward, afraid of what was ahead. I didn’t move backward, afraid of what was behind. My body ached. I felt feverish, frail. The touch of my own skin was rough and rigid. I felt old. Hungry. My stomach screamed for something. Anything.

  Finally, in the distance, two tiny red dots appeared. They were close together. They were moving slowly, but closer towards me. I squinted to get a better look. My vision was no longer sharp. Only two red dots. Then, another set appeared to the left of them. Now there were four dots…traveling slowly, but closer. Again, to the right, two more dots. Six red dots. Little by little, but still growing closer. And again, two more dots. And again. And again. Eight, Fourteen, Twenty…I began to lose count. They were shuffling in a triangular formation. The pace was steady. Slow and steady. I braced myself, afraid of what was ahead. The smell of salt was gone and replaced by the smell of rot. It was raw...real. It was spoiling meat. It was old blood. It was sickly. It crept into my lungs, causing me to gag.

  The dots grew closer and the smell stronger. I held my breath as long as I could, relieving the odor and preparing for what lay ahead. And then, the first two red dots stopped, suddenly revealing a head and a body. A man. A rotting, decaying man. His skin was slipping off his face. His lips were gone. Black ooze dripped from both his ears. His clothes were torn. His hair was thin and nearly gone. His fingernails were long, filthy. And his eyes…his eyes were…familiar.

  I stood, quiet. I couldn’t feel my heart. I couldn’t feel anything but hunger.

  He cocked his head slightly to one side. His red eyes pierced into mine. They were soft. They were hurt. They were so familiar.

  A sense of comfort washed over me. Relief set in. I knew him. I’ve always known him. It was him. He was there…for me.

  His jaw moved as if to speak but broke off, crashing into the ground…like glass smashing into a million pieces.

  I reached out to him, grabbing what was left of his hand. His skin was rough and rigid.

  “Dad?”

  My eyes popped open from my deep sleep. Light barely seeped in from my blinds. I turned my head to look at the clock. 4:30 a.m. Ugh! I needed to go back to sleep.

  I felt a warm wetness on my pillow and assumed I had been sweating from my dream. I reached over to flip my lamp on. The light bulb illuminated my arm, revealing bright red dots. I was bleeding. Drops and splotches of blood laid across my hand and my arm. Panicked, I looked down at my pillow, only to see more blood. At that moment, I realized my eyes were wet. A tear escaped, landing perfectly on the nail of my index finger. It was blood. The achiness of my body began to register in my brain, and I struggled to get out of bed as quickly as I wanted to. When I was finally able to reach the bathroom, I flipped the switch, dreading what I was about to see in the mirror.

  Blood, my blood, was rolling down my cheeks, reminiscent of tears. The mirror was a blur, but I squinted to focus in on what exactly was going on. I gasped when I realized there was not a single trace of white in my eyes. They were red. Brilliantly red. And blood continued to roll down my face like a running faucet.

  From what I could see, everything else was okay. My mouth, my nose, my teeth, my ears. All there, all still intact. I was just crying…blood.

  With nausea and hunger beginning to arise in the pit of my stomach, the hunger won and I knew I needed to make my way to the kitchen. I grabbed a towel from the rack and wiped my face before heading downstairs. It was difficult to see, as the blood continuously surged out. I paced my steps.

  Mom had left breakfast in the fridge and I couldn’t even make it to the table. I stood in the refrigerator door to eat.

  After allowing the amazing breakfast to settle into my belly, which actually felt like it was all gone as soon as it entered my mouth, I headed back upstairs to get my blood-speckled sheets off the bed and into the wash. I hadn’t looked into the mirror yet, but my eyes seemed to have gone back to normal as soon as I began eating. Quite honestly, I couldn’t tell you if that were certain. That food was all I could think about and I was afraid to look in the mirror again.

  I chose to once again forget the freaky things happening to my body. It was actually beginning to be routine to wake up knowing something was going to be wrong.

  As I worked to clean my room, thoughts of tonight began to float around my mind. The butterflies in my stomach commenced their dance as a forecast of Tristen and I being together clouded me. I pictured a night full of sexy staring and flirty smiles and tender touches. I pictured a whole lot of almost kissing moments, which I actually welcomed because when it finally did happen, it would be like opening the gates to heaven. Trumpets and all. Although, if I kept putting it off, I could run the risk of it never actually happening.

  I finally finished cleaning up and decided to shower, still avoiding the mirror. After a towel dry, I wrapped it around me and decided to text Phoebe to be sure we were all still on track with the plans. Phoebe spoke to Eric. Eric apparently wanted Tristen’s number so that he could befriend him and confirm the plans. Finally, Tristen texted me and let me know everything was good to go.

  With everything in place, and while eating a roast beef po-boy Mom prepared for me, I began to make my costume.

  I decided to take some old, ratty clothes and shred them. With some fake blood and silicon flesh left over from a few Halloweens ago,
I began on the work of art on my face.

  With some hesitation before looking in the mirror, I finally faced the music. I looked normal, maybe a little bit tired. I assessed my eyes, opening them wide and shutting them tight a few times. Nothing there.

  Although what my body was doing seemed really cool in some ways, healing itself in no time, it was still reminding me that I was, in fact, sick. There was definitely something wrong with me. As much as I wanted to deny it, my body was not allowing me to forget it. Could one consider my amazing healing abilities to be a sickness or a blessing?

  But with this weekend, I would try my hardest to just forget about any of that.

  While enjoying a delicious beef pot pie, I examined my face before continuing on into my Halloween makeup kit. Some highlighting, black patches, a little prosthetics, and blood should do the trick. I popped in my favorite zombie DVD, season one of The Walking Dead, and began the transformation.

  Halfway through, my phone began to ring. I leaned over to see the caller ID.

  760-555-7589

  Who the heck was this? I was about to ignore the call, when I realized the number actually looked familiar. Megan.

  “Hello?”

  There was no response.

  “Hello? Is someone there?”

  “Is this…is this Gracie?”

  How did she know my name? I didn’t leave a message. And Gracie? No one called me Gracie except Mom.

  “Um…Yes, this is Grace. Is this Megan?”

  “Yes. It’s me. How are you?”

  Her voice seemed shaky. Almost nervous.

  “I’m fine. I uh...how did you know my name was Grace?”

  …

  “Megan?”

  “I just knew. I just knew it was you, Gracie.”

  I could hear a sniffle. This phone call was getting weirder by the minute.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t leave a message. I honestly didn’t even know why I called you. It’s just that I found your number one day in my mother’s room and figured you knew her­.”

  “Evie? How is she? Is she okay?”

  Her voice grew frantic.

  “Evie? I’m sorry, but I don’t know who that is.”

  “Your mother. My sister.”

  “Um, my mother’s name is Veronica.”

  “Veronica? No.” She sounded confused and I wasn’t sure where this conversation was going. It felt like nowhere.

  “Megan, I’m sorry, I must have gotten things mixed up. I was calling because I thought…I thought you knew my mother and about…things I guess. I’m not sure why exactly I called, but I think I may have made a mistake. Thank you for returning my call, though. I really have to go.”

  “No wait! Please. Gracie, please. Your mother is Eve. Her real name is Eve.”

  “Megan, I think you might be mista—”

  “You are from California. Your dad’s name is Jack Manning. You had a dog named Lucy. You were very, very sick when you were little.”

  My heart jumped into my mouth, leaving me unable to say a word.

  “I am your aunt, Gracie. I am Aunt Megan. Please don’t hang up. I just want to know where you are. What happened? Why did your mom take you away from us? You got better and she took you away. She never called. She just left.” The sound of her voice revealed that waterfalls were falling from her eyes at that very moment. Her sadness flowed through the phone.

  I didn’t know what to say. What could I say to this woman? I had no idea who she was. For all I knew, she could be some psycho woman stalker. But it all made sense. It coincided with the note I read from Meg to Evie. She could really be my aunt. My family. Someone my mother hid from me for years.

  “Gracie, please talk to me. I have waited to hear from you for over ten years. Are you and your mother ok—”

  I hung up.

  I didn’t know what else to say. She wanted to know so much, and I knew nothing. I didn’t even know if she was really telling the truth. Why would my mother lie to me about having a family? We didn’t have a family. Mom was an only child. Her parents died in a car accident before she had me. Dad had family, but he was an only child too. My grandfather died and my grandmother on my dad’s side had Alzheimer’s and was in a home somewhere far away. There was really no one but me and Mom. Why would she lie about having a sister? What was she holding back?

  The doorbell rang.

  This was going to be an important night. I knew Mom was keeping things from me, and as much as I wanted to know what the hell was going on, I decided to push those thoughts aside and focus on what was in front of me.

  And as I opened the door, there he was, right in front of me.

  “Oh my God! Are you dead?” Tristen asked in horror.

  I tried to hold back my smile. He almost looked exactly like me! Blood and dirt smeared over his ratty clothes. Dark circles under his eyes and wounds on his checks and neck. “Oh my God! Are you dead?” I asked.

  Tristen lifted his arms out in front of him and stumbled in through the door slowly. “Brains,” he grumbled in a pained voice.

  I laughed and panicked at the same time as I realize he was going to crash right into me. I contemplated moving out of the way, but realized standing in his path would probably be quite delightful. Anything to have him close.

  I braced myself as he closed in on me. When he did reach me, he wrapped his arms around my body, and the butterflies in my belly multiplied in number. His grip was gentle, his touch was tantalizing. I closed my eyes and breathed in his smell. Part cologne, part Halloween makeup.

  He squeezed once and pulled away. Way, way too soon. I looked down at my feet before moving aside to let him all the way in. Don’t be shy, Grace.

  “So, are you excited about tonight?” he asked as he sat down on the couch.

  “Yeah, I’m super excited. It’s going to be fun.”

  “Is your mom here?”

  My nerves were suddenly worse. It had just hit me that we were alone. “Um…no, she had a work thing this weekend.” I couldn’t look straight at him. Instead, I headed into the kitchen to get him a bottle of water.

  When I walked back into the living room, he was at the mantle looking at the photo frames. “You were super cute when you were little.”

  “When I was little?”

  He turned around and smiled. “Well of course you are cute now. You are more than cute, Grace.”

  My face flushed and I handed him the water. He took it with one hand, bringing the other to my face. He traced his thumb over the prosthetic on my cheek. It was soft and slippery from the fake blood.

  “This makeup is pretty BA. Where did you learn to do this?”

  “Well, I kind of study it.”

  Confusion crossed his face. “Study it?”

  “Yeah. Listen, if you don’t know by now that I am kind of a geek, well…I guess you are in for a surprise.”

  Now there was amusement in his eyes. “Tell me. What do you study?”

  I turned around and flopped on the couch with a big sigh. Tristen followed, flopping down really close.

  “Well, I’m sort of obsessed with horror movies. Zombies mostly. And I study the movies. I study the work of makeup artists so that I can mimic how they give an actor the realistic qualities and characteristics of a reanimated human.”

  “So…you copy them,” Tristen stated.

  My reflexes got the best of me and I smacked his chest. “No! I don’t copy them! I simply study their work. I pay attention to every little detail. I take notes in my mind.”

  “That is awesome, Grace. I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”

  “You didn’t, huh?”

  “No. I think that’s great that you learn from things visually like that. Do you practice doing it,” he asked, seeming to be very curious.

  “Well, I draw things. How I would like to do the makeup. But I only get to practice putting it on at Halloween,” I explained.

  “Is that what you wanna do when you grow up?”

/>   Humph. I never actually thought about that. It really wouldn’t be a bad idea. I could picture myself on the set of a zombie thriller applying makeup to an actor. “Well, yeah. I do actually.”

  His face lit up like a Christmas tree. “You are one of a kind, Grace Elizabeth Watkins.”

  My face flushed as I glanced down at my fidgeting fingers. His fingers moved in, softly resting on mine to stop them. I looked up into his hazel eyes.

  “You don’t have to be shy about it. You are. I can’t place it, Grace. There’s something really different about you.”

  “In a good way or bad?” I asked. Chances were that he wasn’t going to say in a bad way. It was one of those moments where you just had to hear the answer for validation.

  He smiled a crooked smile and tilted his head. “That’s exactly it. You’re confident, but not too confident. Some other girl would have said something like ‘I know.’ ”

  I smiled at his attempt at a squeaky, girly voice. “Someone like Sonny?”

  He exhaled and I could feel his grip loosen. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that.

  “Yeah, exactly. You’re kind of a breath of fresh air.”

  No one has ever told me that before. A breath of fresh air. I liked it.

  The moment grew silent and we stared at each other. It wasn’t an uncomfortable, awkward moment or one of those moments where you were trying to figure out how to break it. It was…sweet…calm…a moment that I didn’t want to end. I could stare into his hazel eyes all nig—

  Ding Dong

  Damn it.

  We both smiled before I got up and headed for the door.

  I thought I opened the door to the planet Kryptonite.

  “Hey, Hey, Hey!”

  Tristen stood up to greet Superman and Wonder Woman. To be honest, it was actually quite suitable. Eric was a fantastic Clark Kent with his size and one black curl on his forehead. And Phoebe…well let’s just say her top half was certainly a wonder. She filled out that costume in more ways than Wonder Woman could.

  “Wow! You guys look amazing! Like the real deal!”

  “Thanks! And you two look awesome! G, you guys so match,” she said with a wink. I laughed nervously, hoping Tristen didn’t catch that. I was sure he knew how I felt about him, but I didn’t want him to know that he was the topic of most of Phoebe and I’s conversations.

  I gestured the two members of the Justice League in and we stood around the living room.

  “You guys want something to drink?” I asked, suddenly feeling pretty parched myself.

  It was then that I noticed Phoebe’s hand was behind her back, under her red cape. Her scarlet lips formed into an O as she swung her arm around to reveal a large bottle of Southern Comfort liqueur, also known as SoCo.

  “Oh yeah?” Tristen asked as he rubbed his hands together. Eric nodded his head in approval. I, on the other hand, felt a little anxiety coming on but tried to hide it with a smile.

  “Oh c’mon, G…don’t clam up on me now.”

  I gave her a look. “Phoebe, can I talk to you in the kitchen? We’ll be back guys.”

  I linked my arm to hers and we walked over to the kitchen.

  “Grace, what’s wrong?” she asked as she began her search for some drink glasses in my cabinets.

  “Phoebe, I don’t think we should drink.”

  “Why not? It’s Halloween! Our favorite night of the year!”

  “Shh! Listen, we are going to be driving and I just don’t think it’s a great idea is all.”

  “But we always have a couple of drinks. You know we sneak some of your mom’s wine like every year.”

  “Yeah, but we were home. Watching movies. Can’t we wait till we get back?” I asked. We have never snuck in some drinks and drove around town before.

  Although I was trying my hardest not to be a buzzkill, Phoebe’s face proved that I was unsuccessful. She stepped away from the drink making and grabbed both my shoulders as if she were about to shake some sense into me.

  “Grace, it will be okay. Eric and I talked about it and he is only going to have one drink. He is driving tonight so that we can all drink and have a good time,” she reassured. Phoebe knew me, and she knew I was a little more conservative than she was.

  I took a deep breath in and caved. She figured as much and hugged me. “We’re going to have an amazing time, G. This is your night to shine for Tristen.”

  “Yeah, but what if I get stupid drunk or something?” I began to panic at that thought. Tristen just told me that I was one of a kind. I wasn’t sure being wasted and covered in my own puke would change his mind a little considering the type of people he usually hung with. Although he had already seen me physically ill, I had an inkling that it was not that attractive.

  Phoebe headed back to mixing drinks. “G, this isn’t your first time drinking. Just limit yourself.”

  Her stupid matter-of-fact-face crept up. Ugh! She was right.

  After a second, the smell of Southern Comfort and Coke traveled into my nose and I was in…for at least one drink. Phoebe grabbed two glasses and I followed with the other two. Tristen and Eric were standing near the couches talking football.

  “Okay guys! Here you go.”

  I handed a glass to Tristen.

  “Thank you,” he said softly and smiled.

  Phoebe held her glass up and we all followed. “Here’s to a great night ahead of us! Happy Halloween!”

  We clinked our glasses and took a swig. Kind of strong, but the fruity, spicy taste of whiskey hit the spot. Phoebe and Eric kissed after their clink, leaving Tristen and I smiling and glancing down at our glasses. Our moment would come. Soon.