by Tijan
Logan paused, watching me. “This is okay, right?”
I didn’t know why it wouldn’t be. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out with whatever we have here. It’s no problem.”
“Okay.” He started outside, leaving the door open. Nate flicked two fingers up in a salute, ducking out behind him.
Mason was last, and he came over to me first. “Hey.” He dropped a light kiss to my lips. “I’ll see you later tonight?” He glanced to Heather before kissing me again. “You’ll be okay?”
Heather let out a sigh, put her knife down, and muttered, “I need a cigarette.”
“Was that me?” Mason asked once she was gone.
“Channing broke up with her.”
He lifted his head up two inches. “Are you serious?”
“And he’s coming tonight to see you.”
“Fuck.” He looked to where Heather had slipped out the back door. Her back was leaning against the patio doors, the cigarette already lit. “That’s harsh.”
“Hence why we were so drunk last night.”
His eyes darkened. Remember our own rough patch. I’d gotten drunk a couple of those nights, but I knew he’d gone on a bigger binge than me. I felt him starting to pull away and caught the front of his shirt. “I love you.”
His eyebrows dipped together. “I love you.” His lips tried to show me too. When we were done, a few heavy-breathing seconds later, he cursed under his breath. “What are the chances we can send Heather in my place?”
I grinned against his lips. “So she can decorate with Logan?”
He nodded, grinning right back. “The two will yell at each other the whole time.”
“Pretty much.” I frowned and looked around him. “Where’s Taylor? Did she leave after breakfast?”
Mason shrugged. “I don’t know. Logan never said anything. I assumed she was with you.”
I shook my head, my stomach twisting. I stepped back, but my clean hand was still on his chest. It felt right, leaving it there, like he was anchoring me. I glanced around again, but I knew she wouldn’t have magically appeared in the last few seconds.
“I’ll call her.” I nodded at the pumpkins. “We’re going to set these out with tealights before we leave tonight.”
He rubbed his hand up and down my arm. “What are you guys doing today? We’ll be at the house the whole time. Logan’s gone all out with this party.”
I shrugged. We did have all day. I didn’t have classes on Fridays, and Heather was up for the whole weekend. We weren’t the type to do the salon. Saloon, yes. Salon, no. “I don’t know. We’ll figure something out.” I pressed myself up, bringing my lips fully against his again. Logan would be yelling any second. “Have fun. I’ll see you tonight.”
I could almost count it down.
Three.
Two.
And on ‘one,’ I pointed to the door at the exact instant Logan shouted.
Mason laughed, and pressed one last kiss to my forehead. “Okay. Love you. Be safe. Have fun. And if you start drinking early, call. I’ll be sober. I’ll come and pick you up.”
I flashed him a grin. “Bye, and all of that to you too, except the last part.”
He laughed, going out the door, and right as it closed, I yelled, “I won’t be sober tonight.”
“Looking forward to it!” he yelled back, his words muffled through the wood.
I knocked on the patio glass, and Heather turned. She nodded, putting her cigarette out. “Your perfect soulmate left?”
There was no bite to her words, but I frowned. “You and Channing will be fine. You know that, right? Your breakups are never permanent.”
She picked up her knife again, pulling the last pumpkin in front of her. The knife was raised and poised, and she said, “I don’t know about this time.” And she brought it down with a vehemence she hadn’t had earlier.
I went back to cutting mine, but looked over my shoulder one last time.
Where’d Taylor go?
Chapter 8
“All right.” Heather stepped out from the bathroom. We’d gone slutty last night, so we were going funny tonight. Bypassing whatever costumes were left downstairs, we spent the afternoon downtown. What we went home with had us both in stitches.
I was holding back my laughter again. I clamped my mouth closed and nodded. “Mmmm hmmm.”
She was dressed in a white onesie, the opening around her face lined with pink hair. She reached up to grab a sparkling, pastel-colored rainbow horn. Heather’s face was dead serious. “Is my horn in the right spot?”
Another laugh bubbled up. I stifled it, swallowing it back down. “Looks good.”
She lifted up her hand and motioned in a circle. “Okay. Turn around. I’ll check your ass.”
Her voice hitched.
I bit down on my lip. No laughing. Not yet. I turned. I was dressed in the same white onesie. There was an opening for my face, but it was only lined with white cloth. My hands were normal—they weren’t supposed to have attention focused on them—and my feet ended in two large black hooves. Heather’s arms had the matching two front hooves, but the back of my costume was where the action was.
A long white tail extended from my costume, pink hair at the tip, and underneath the tail was another small hole. A contraption hung from it on the inside, with a cord running from it down my arm, to a button resting on the inside of my palm.
We turned to face the correct way. Heather was in front of me. I was behind her. She was the head. I was the ass.
She said, “Ready?”
My finger moved to the button. In the same monotone, I replied, “Ready.”
“Push it.”
She had a similar contraption on her costume, and we pushed our buttons together. A loud horsey neigh came from a small speaker attached near her face, nestled in her pink mane, and at the same time, the tail on my costume lifted and a burst of glitter exploded in the air.
We were a glitter-farting unicorn. Together.
I dissolved in laughter. Heather was right next to me. We both ended up on the floor, like we’d been all afternoon once we found the costume.
She sat up and panted, “Best damned costume ever!”
I nodded. I couldn’t talk. I was still laughing.
“Okay.” She tried to stop laughing. Her laughter was coming out as half-hiccups now. She grabbed for my arm. “Let’s get up. One drink, then we go?”
I glanced at the clock. We’d spent half the afternoon putting the costume together while answering the door for trick-or-treaters, but it was long past time for any more. The costume was done and the party had started a couple of hours ago. It was time to go. “Yeah. I’ll call Mason to pick us up.”
Heather pumped her fist in the air. “Score. That means another two drinks.”
My stomach rolled over. The hangover was still with me, but this was Halloween and Heather time. I was down for anything.
She mixed two Long Island iced teas for us, and I tucked my phone away after Mason replied. “He’s leaving now.”
She held one up for me. I took it, and she saluted me with hers. “To friendship.” Her eyes met mine.
A look passed between us, and I felt myself choking up. Then I pushed my button and glitter exploded in the air. My lip twitched and I raised my glass up. “Best friendship ever.”
After swallowing, she rested her glass on the counter. “For real, though. Thanks for this weekend. I needed it.”
“You’re probably going to get back together with Channing tonight.”
She shook her head, her eyes downcast. “No. Sex, maybe. Getting back together, no.” She closed her eyes a moment.
Breaking up sucked, even if it was the right thing to do. I’d been there. It hadn’t been long for Mason and me, but I remembered that time. I’d felt like I was dying. Literally. Heather had picked me up off the floor. I didn’t think I was doing the same for her now, but I was trying.
“One day at a time. You might not have faith, but I do. I know this breakup isn�
��t permanent. He’s going to be begging you to come back in no time.”
Nothing else made sense. Heather and Channing loved each other. They were almost as inseparable as Mason and I, and more so in some ways. They’d been best friends since third grade, and the relationship had never waned after she’d transferred to Fallen Crest in junior high.
“Here’s hoping, but God.” She groaned. “He’s already there. He texted me an hour ago.”
I patted her hand. “Let me know when you need to bail tonight, if you do. We could do a code word. You just say ‘llama,’ and I’ll know what you’re talking about. We’ll leave. We’ll do whatever you want. I’m your sidechick tonight.”
She snorted on her drink, spitting some of it out.
Mason pulled up into the driveway five minutes later, and we headed out. He only shook his head at our costume, but I saw a faint grin there. He was amused. I could tell.
I was pulling the door shut behind me when Heather frowned over her shoulder. “Did you ever call Taylor? Weren’t you wondering where she was before?”
“Oh.” I’d forgotten. “Yeah.”
Heather climbed into the back seat of Mason’s Escalade. I remained on the doorstep, pulling my phone out and dialing Taylor’s phone. I reached for the door handle again. I was going to close it, when I heard a ringing from upstairs.
I stopped, pulling the phone from my ear.
Rrrrring! Rrrr—
It stopped.
I rang her number again and held my breath, listening.
It was ringing on my end, but I didn’t hear anything from inside this time.
I stepped back into the living room. “Taylor? Are you up there?”
“Strattan!” Heather hollered from the vehicle. “My buzz is fading.”
I pressed my lips together. I thought I had heard her phone, but that didn’t make sense. If she was here, she’d be in Logan’s loft on the third floor. I wouldn’t be able to hear her phone all the way up there. No. I was just hearing things. That’s all it was.
I texted her:
Where are you? Call me.
Then I put the phone in my pocket and locked the door behind me.
Chapter 9
The house was insane.
People were lined up out on the front sidewalk, waiting to get in. There were tombstones on the lawn, with mechanical ghosts popping up from behind and screaming before going back down. As we pulled up, some girls who had just joined the line screamed and fell down after the first ghost. If I hadn’t been buzzed, I would’ve too.
Heather scrambled out. “That’s awesome.”
I raised my eyebrows at Mason as I climbed out. He was dropping us off, then parking somewhere else, and, knowing Mason, he’d be jumping over some backyard fences in a shortcut to the party.
He shrugged. “Don’t act like you don’t know him. He’s your brother too.”
“He was yours first.”
I shut the door and saw Heather’s raised eyebrows.
“What?” I moved around her. “Yes. I went there.”
“Not your best retort.” She started beside me.
A few people grumbled when they realized we were cutting, but my glare shut them up. No way was I waiting in line for Logan’s party. The three guys who were trying to keep some order started to hold up their hands to stop us. “Really?” I clipped out, and we were shown inside. They opened the doors and stepped aside.
The inside was just as impressive.
It was dark inside, with a single lit-up path leading down a hallway. The first room was covered in goo. I tried telling myself it was probably just pudding, but it felt disgusting. We went down the path and hands shot out from somewhere to grab our ankles. I screamed, then kicked out. A muffled curse came next, but I wasn’t grabbed again.
That didn’t last long.
We had to go past another set of rooms. I heard screaming, so I was ready ahead of time, but when we got there, there was no preparing. The lights on the path turned off, and we had to stand still. I grabbed on to Heather, and she held me back. Neither of us spoke. We both knew we had to just endure this.
Then suddenly a light flashed, and a body hurled toward us.
“AHH!” I screamed. I couldn’t hold this one in either, and I jumped on top of Heather.
“Oomph.” She caught me, but looked up. “Are you serious?”
“Carry me. Be my Mason.”
“Fuck that.” She tossed me off. “You got legs. Use ’em.”
What she was saying made sense, but my knees weren’t accepting it. They were knocking together and I was about to drop to the floor. I grabbed on to her, holding myself upright. “I’m going to kill Logan.”
“Me too.” But she held on to me and we moved forward, like two grannies looking for their dropped dentures somewhere.
The third room wasn’t bad. We walked on crushed eggshells. Not a lovely feel, and they didn’t sound the best either. The fourth section was a hallway. This one had zombies, and yes, they chased us. I punched one. I wasn’t discriminating. Anything that came at us was getting hit. I’d never signed a disclaimer.
“I’m suddenly realizing why your knight in shining armor didn’t come with us,” Heather cursed, her hand clenched around my costume. “That fucker bypassed this for the real party.”
We could hear bass music somewhere. I was assuming the basement, but we had to get there. I sighed. “Why didn’t I think of wearing our night-vision goggles to this thing?”
Heather stopped. I ran into her.
As I bounced back, she whirled on me. “You have night-vision goggles?!”
“Logan’s . . .” And yep, I was cursing myself again. He probably had them with him. He was probably wearing them. He was probably right behind us.
Acting on a theory, I punched the air behind me.
Nothing.
“What are you doing?”
I turned back, lifting my shoulder up. “Had a hunch. Didn’t pan out.”
She grunted, and we were told by a loud booming voice, “PROCEED, UNDERLINGS.”
I jumped again, flicking my middle finger up. “Fuck you.”
Heather snorted in laughter, but we edged forward again, practically wrapped around each other. She laughed, muffling it by pressing her mouth into my shoulder. “We’re really embodying our costume. Two ends of a horses’ ass.”
“Shut up.” But I was laughing. “And it’s a farting unicorn costume.”
“Is there really a difference?”
“Pastel colors and glitter? We could glitter these assholes later.”
“I’m down for that.” She raised her voice as we bypassed one more room, and someone lunged for us with a bloodied chainsaw. “We’re going to fart glitter on you! Back OFF, CHAINSAW ASSHOLE!”
The guy did, holding his hands up. The chainsaw was attached to him by a strap. “Hey. Just doing what I was told.”
“We’re friends of Logan’s. We want the shortcut to the basement.”
He grinned, his face a grotesque green and bloody red. “Like we haven’t heard that before.”
“Hey!” I was in his face, shaking my finger. Heather was right behind me. “I’m Logan’s stepsister.” I wasn’t above dropping names in this situation. “I fuck Mason Kade.”
Heather’s head popped out. “And I have a weird sisterly friendship with Logan.” She paused. “I don’t fuck Mason Kade. I don’t even really talk to him. Full disclosure.”
He held his hands up. “It’s hard to recognize you with the whole . . .” he gestured to our costume. My black hair was covered by the white costume. “You know.”
“Where’s the basement?”
He pointed further down. “You’re almost there. When the line cuts right, go left. There’s a back door to the basement there.”
“Traitor!” someone called from behind us.
Heather glanced back. “You want us to fart glitter on you too? We’ll come back and find you. It will happen, trust me.”
The
voice came back. “If the door sticks, just pull a little harder.”
A second person said, “What a wuss. It’s fucking glitter. Seriously?”
The first one retorted, “That shit doesn’t shower off of you. You’ll be wearing it for two weeks. Real turn-on when you’re trying to get your dick sucked later.”
Heather yelled back, “Okay. Thank you. We don’t need to hear about your future date aspirations.” Her hand tightened on my arm. “Let’s go.”
The line went right. We did as instructed, finding a doorknob and when the door swung open to reveal pure darkness, I said, “Hold on.” I felt the wall around us until I felt a light switch, and flicked the light on. Voila. Stairs appeared before us. We hurried in, shutting the door, but we left the light on. I was guessing we’d been told the back way into the basement party. There should have been more lighting.
“This place is freaky as fuck.”
I nodded. “Good on Logan’s part, huh?”
We got to the end. I was looking for another way out, but there was nothing. We’d stepped into a cement room. I couldn’t even see bookshelves, or under a wall or anything. It was three cement walls around us, and I looked behind the stairs—nothing there.
Chills went down my spine. “Heather . . .”
“That asshole set us up.”
I started to push her back to the stairs. “We should go upstai—”
The light went out, plunging us into darkness.
“AH!”
“AH!”
We both started screaming, and we didn’t stop.
“WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO?”
I sagged against the wall. I didn’t know, but I stopped screaming. My voice was already starting to hurt.
“Phones. We have phones.”
“You’re right.” I could hear the relief in her voice, and felt her reaching for her pocket—then she froze. “Fuck.”
“Fuck?” I was feeling for mine too. Nothing. Both of my pockets . . . I didn’t have pockets. Neither of us had pockets.
“We gave them to Mason in the car.”
I hadn’t wanted to run the risk of losing mine, so I’d handed it over. Heather had followed suit.
I finished her train of thought. “Because our costume doesn’t have pockets.”