As if he’s in my head, he says “I know, damn me, but you know you want to. You won’t have to do anything but your makeup and hair. I got your costume ready because I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist partying with me”.
I half ass glare at him, because I really want to know what he got me. I hate going out partying, but I’d do pretty much anything for the man, so I find myself sighing heavily and dropping my head onto the marble countertop with a muted thud.
Without lifting my head, my reply comes out muffled, “Fine! Fine. My costume better be awesome or I’m never buying you muffins ever again”.
“Knew you’d cave, Buttercup,” he smirks with another infuriating wink “You’re going to look great, and we’ll have an awesome time, okay? Trust me”.
“I hate you” I deadpan, my inability to keep a straight face belying my words and revealing my untruth. My lips twitch with my effort to stop myself from giving him the smile he knows I’m trying to supress which causes him to bark out a laugh.
“Sure you do,” he says as his laughter tapers off, knowing very well that I’m talking crap.
CHAPTER FOUR
Livvie
So, just how illegal is it to murder someone? I question while I stand in my bedroom examining myself with furrowed eyebrows in my floor length mirror attached to my wardrobe door.
When that pain in the ass of a man told me he had a costume ready for me, what he failed to mention was just how short the damn thing was. Tiny doesn’t even begin to describe this witch’s costume. Seriously, if I even attempt to bend over, everyone will get an eyeful of ass. I would know, I checked. I bent over a couple of times with my behind facing the mirror, my legs spread enough so that when I bent over, I could see the mirror from between my legs. Let me tell you, there was a whole lot of ass on display.
The all black ensemble has a splash of of dark purple and blue on the front of the bodice that has spiderwebs overlaying the colours. Three layers of material make the skirt poofy, the top layer black with the same colours of purple and blue layered underneath it. It’s shorter than one of Snow White’s dwarfs, I shit you not. The bodice does make my pathetic excuse for boobs look nice and perky, so there’s that I suppose. Have I mentioned that the entire thing is short? I feel like I haven’t emphasized that little fact enough.
With a shake of my head, I go to my dresser and pull out a pair of frilly black short shorts that I bought last year for Halloween when I dressed up as a Black Swan ballerina. I shimmy them over my thigh high black and blue striped socks and settle them over my butt. I give a twirl in the mirror and decide that I won’t murder Rylan now that my booty won’t be exposed for all to see.
I walk to my bed and sit down, leaning over to pick up my black four inch heel thigh high suede boots that I placed at the end of the bed before I got dressed. Once I’ve secured them to my feet, I stand up and make my way to the mirror again to inspect myself. I guess I don’t look too bad. I had no idea what costume Rylan had gotten me until he showed up with it fourty five minutes before we’re due to leave, so I went with a dramatic black and purple smokey eye with black winged eyeliner and a dark purple lipstick. I left my mane of ginger hair loose around my shoulders in wavy masses that reach just past my waist, a couple of thin plaits placed throughout, one or two with a black feather attached at the ends.
Deciding it won’t get better than this, I leave my room and head downstairs to wait the ten minutes until Rylan’s supposed to arrive.
I unceremoniously flop myself on to my dark brown leather sofa, slouching down until my chin rests on my chest, and pick my my phone that I happened to land beside. While waiting for Rylan, I decide to play Piano Tiles on my cell, getting so into the game when the tiles start to move faster that I shriek and just about jump out of my own skin when Rylan’s voice right next to my ear says “boo”.
Apparently, scaring me to death is freaking hilarious based off of the obnoxious laughter coming from the asswipe that tried to give me heart failure. I didn’t even hear him open the door, and that thing squeaks like crazy whenever it’s opened, or hear him walk on the wooden floors to creep up behind me.
“God” smack “damn” smack “you” smack “for scaring” smack “me like” smack “that” I yell at him in between whacking him with a cushion I grab after I stop screaming like a banshee.
The jackass does nothing but laugh and laugh until he has to wipe his face from the tears that escape from laughing so hard at my near death experience.
“That was the funniest thing ever,” he says in between trying to catch his breath.
“You’re a real comedian,” I sarcastically reply, placing my hand over my still pounding heart. I listen to Ry laugh a little more before I start smacking him with the cushion again until he gets control of himself and snatches it from my grip.
“Alright! Alright! I’m done, I swear. Stop trying to brutally murder me with a cushion,” he concedes with a wide grin, his dimples making an appearance, and I have to fight the impending swoon they cause every time they show.
“You’re lucky I love you,” I glare at him through narrowed eyes. It has no effect on him, and he keeps grinning at me like a total weirdo.
“I know, or you wouldn’t be able to put up with me,” he quips, straightening his.. Shirt? What the hell even is that?
“Uh, Ry, what are you supposed to be?” I ask him, my eyebrows climbing further up my forehead when I finally have the chance to check out his full costume.
Rylan is not a small guy, he has muscles for days. Drool worthy muscles. Mmm. I discreetly wipe at my mouth just in case I actually drooled. The man has put in the effort to get them, and he’s using Halloween as an excuse to show them off. What adorns his torso is a measly, one shouldered scrap of material covering only one of his pecks, leaving the other bare for the world to see. The rest of the material looks kind of like a dress and on his feet are funny looking booties. His dirty blonde hair looks a complete mess, the top where it’s longer sticking up in each direction, and I’m standing here staring at him bemusedly wondering what the hell he is.
“I’m a caveman, look,” he says, throwing his arms out in a ‘duh’ gesture. He turns around and walks to the front door. When he returns, he’s carrying an inflatable plastic club. He swings the inflatable so it’s resting on his shoulder, and with a deeper voice than he normally uses, says to me, “Me caveman. Me got club. Me take woman to party.”
It’s the chest pound he does when he says the last part that has me doubling over with laughter. When I finally calm down, I dab under my eyes to rid myself of my tears but make sure I don’t smudge my carefully applied makeup and look at the doofus. He’s stood in front of me with a massive grin on his face, clearly proud of himself for making me laugh so hard.
“You’re the best, Muffin,” I tell him with a smile, shaking my head at him.
“We already know this,” he quickly replies, causing me to roll my eyes, though my smile remains on my face. He continues before I can come up with a witty retort “You ready to go, babe?”
“Yup! Let me just get my cell, money and ID and then we can go,” I tell him, moving to retrieve my things and stuff them in my tiny black backpack that has no real use other than to hold a very small amount of things, all while smiling at the other nickname he’s recently taken to calling me.
When I turn around, Rylan is stood near the door with his hands behind his back, clearly hiding something.
“Whatcha got there?” I pry, leaning slightly to the left, trying to peek around him. When that doesn’t work, I look at him with a confused smile.
“It’s your birthday present. Thought I’d give it to you now before I forget,” he explains with a big smile plastered on his face. He pulls his hands from behind his back and holds out a rectangle box in front of him.
“Hope you like it,” he tells me when I step closer and take the box from him, his smile suddenly turning shy.
I don’t hesitate to rip the paper from around
the box, which causes Ry to laugh at my impatience, and open the lid on the box to reveal a beautiful sapphire necklace. The gem is in a shape of an oval that’s surrounded by beautiful crystals and is held on a delicate silver chain. It suits my costume perfectly. My mouth falls open in shock as I stare at the stunning piece of jewelry laying on the suede cushion.
I don’t stop myself from flinging my arms around Rylan’s waist, making sure I have a tight hold on the box so I don’t drop it. I squeeze him tight when his arms wrap around me to return the hug, and he leans his cheek on top of my head.
“Thank you so much, Muffin. I really do love it,” I tell him honestly. After a few minutes of simply hugging him, I loosen my arms from around him and look up at him with a smile and ask, “Can you put it on for me? I wanna wear it tonight.”
He gives me a grin and says, “That’s the plan, Buttercup.”
He makes quick work of latching the necklace around my neck, and I hear a sharp intake of breath from him, along with a pleasant tingling feeling on my chest where the necklace rests. It's gone before I can mention anything and not sound like a crazy person, so I ignore it. Ry gives me an appreciative nod before stating, “Yeah, I did a good job on a gift this year. I’m awesome.”
“Ah, yes. And very modest. Let’s go before your head swells too much for you to walk out the door,” I reply, flicking him in his exposed nipple before walking past him towards the door.
“Ow! Don’t do that, you evil little woman,” he complains from not far behind me.
I’m laughing when we leave the house. Ry grabs my witch’s hat on his way past the entry table where I left it perched and locks the door behind him. He stashes his key in my backpack as we walk towards the cab that pulls up not even a minute after we leave the house.
“Good timing,” I comment as we shimmy ourselves into the backseat and settle down. Rylan saddles up close to me in the backseat and places his arm over my shoulders.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” he comments with a smile, and I give him a cheesy grin before we make our way to whatever party my best friend insists on us attending.
CHAPTER FIVE
Rylan
What the fuck is she doing? Is.. is that the running man? Oh sweet mother of dragons, she's doing the running man. In the middle of about two hundred and fifty people. Face. Palm. How I forgot that my girl can't dance normally to save her life is beyond my comprehension, but there she is, in all her glory, busting out moves that should have died before they were even created. I have to give her props, though, because she nails every dance move, even if I really wish she would stop doing the fucking robot when it doesn't even match the song she's ‘throwing down some fly moves’ to. Her words, not mine.
I stand on the edge of the dance floor, eyebrows raised, my mouth hanging open in bemused horror, just watching her throw all caution to the wind and start doing ‘Big Fish, Little Fish, Cardboard Box.’ Once she’s tired of that move, she effortlessly flows into a moon walk like she’s embodying her inner Michael Jackson. I can’t help but laugh at her when I hear the high pitched ‘hee-hee’ she does over the music and witness her grab her crotch with one hand and thrust her hips, her other arm sticking up in the air.
Still laughing and with our beers firmly grasped in my hands, I walk over to her slowly when she's toned down the dancing to just a weird shoulder shimmy so I'm not at risk at being belted with a rogue arm or leg.
“Looks like you're enjoying yourself,” I say loudly so she can hear my over the music. They’ve finally stopped playing Thriller by MJ and is now blasting Marilyn Manson’s version of This Is Halloween.
“Eh, it's alright. Kinda lame, so I thought I'd bust out the moves to liven this graveyard up!” She jokes back loudly, a little out of breath, causing another outburst of laughter to pour from me when she turns around and starts... Oh dear god. I want to say she's trying to twerk, but I don't think she has that move down yet. Instead, she sort of looks like she's having a seizure.
“Come take a break, weirdo,” I chuckle while handing her beer over to her and keeping my arm outstretched for her to take my hand so I can lead her to a quieter part of the club. The grin she gives me makes my heart pound a little faster, and even faster still when she easily slides her clammy hand into mine. I can't help but notice, like every other time, that her hand fits perfectly in mine. With a mental palm slap to my forehead, I break out of those thoughts. Tonight. I'll talk to her about everything as soon as we get home.
I pull her along with me to a quiet corner in the club. The club itself it pretty large, nothing fancy. It has a big smooth wooden dance floor in the middle of the room, one which Livvie was dancing all by herself on with absolutely no shame, a long mahogany coloured bar on the far right of the room that’s easy to spot when you walk through the door, and a DJ booth in the left corner. The walls are painted in various shades of red from the ceiling to the middle of the walls with wooden slats going from the middle down, both sections separated by a strip of dark wood. Sitting booths line across the left wall and high tables and chairs are scattered around the outskirts of the dance floor. We find ourselves in two high stools in the far right corner, the furthest from the loud thumping music.
I glance at the necklace quickly to check for any changes, before looking at her flushed face again. Not sensing any changes yet, I lean over the table to she can hear me when I talk and, with a smile, I ask, “Having a good time?”
So, I have a confession. What Livvie doesn’t know about me, the one of three things, is that I’m not exactly.. human. Only partly. The other part is.. kind of.. a demon. Number two on the ‘things I’ve yet to tell Livvie’ list is: I’m her Protector. I’d gone to college on a whim, something compelling me to go, and when I literally bumped into my Buttercup, I knew instantly what brought me there. She’s mine to look after. Well, as mine as can be.. for now.
That brings me to lucky number three on the list. She doesn’t actually know she’s mine in any sense of the word other than ‘bestie’. Better yet, she’s completely clueless to how much I actually love her, and not exactly in the platonic sense. That’s right, I’ve been in love with the crazy woman probably since I met her. Six years of not being able to act on it until she came into her powers has been my own personal torture. Watching her go out on dates, albeit only three of them, has been hell, but that’s something I’m looking to change in the next few hours, depending on if the damn necklace works.
See, that’s something she doesn’t know about herself. She’s a witch, one from a long line of generations of the most powerful witches that have ever lived, and she’s none the wiser. How she doesn’t know blows my mind, because the girl is a walking cliche when it comes to how witches are portrayed. She’s named that damn cat she has Salem, for Lucifers sake!
The necklace isn’t just some ordinary piece of jewellery, either. Nope, this necklace is the only thing that will allow her to use the powers she’ll come into, ones that only manifest on a witch’s twenty fifth birthday. I’m guessing it was her mother’s since I found it at her old house when I moved in with her after her mother passed away. It looked pretty ancient when I found it, which I’m taking to mean it’s been in the family for a long while, so I took it to get in cleaned and polished before giving it to her. Tonight, though, is the night she finds out all about it. That conversation is going to be as fun as walking on Legos barefoot in the dark.
“Hell yeah! I’m having a great time. Thank you for dragging me out of the house, Muffin,” she calls out with a sweet smile on her pretty face, pulling me out of my thoughts. I’d do anything for that smile, so if it means throwing on a dress that’s supposed to be a caveman costume and dragging her to a Halloween party to celebrate her birthday, then I’ll do it again in a heartbeat.
“Anytime, Buttercup,” I smile again and with a cheeky wink, I say, “I just needed an excuse to see you in that witch’s costume.”
The shock on her face is priceless, and I can’t help but laugh
at her. And maybe I am laughing at my own inside joke because I just so happen to think I’m one hilarious guy. I mean, come on, a witch’s costume for a witch who doesn’t even know she’s a witch.. When you move passed the headache, that shit’s funny.
I give her a grin and finish my beer before standing up and holding my hand out towards her again, and before I regret it, request,“Dance off?”
Her eyes light up like I just offered to buy her a puppy, which causes my grin to widen to the point that it hurts. Guess it’s time to make an ass out of myself.
We make our way to the dance floor just as the Monster Mash starts playing loudly through the speakers. When I glance at her, she’s looking at me with a huge grin that causes me to mirror it. We nod at each other before battling it out with some of the worst dance moves ever created. We’re the only people on the dancefloor because, apparently, I brought us to a party with a bunch of sticks in the mud, but that doesn’t stop either of us from making total fools of ourselves without a care in the world.
We spend the next two hours dancing, Livvie popping and locking and me doing my best version of the new Fortnite dance that’s gone viral. We pull out every move we can think of, from the Hammer Time to the Sprinkler. By the time we run out of moves, we’re breathing heavy from dancing and laughing at one another.
“Want another drink?” I shout to her over the music, slightly breathless from my efforts.
Instead of verbally replying, she gives me a quick nod and points to our seats, letting me know she’s going to sit down and wait for me. I give her a nod with a smile and make my way to the bar, ordering our beers and paying the bartender all within ten minutes.
I turn to make my way through the throngs of people that seem to have doubled in numbers over the two hours Livvie and I were dancing. It takes me longer than I’d have imagined to get from the bar to the table, thanks to people bringing the dancefloor to where others are sitting at tables drinking and taking a breather. When I do finally reach the table, however, there she sits with her back to me, but what pulls me up short is the three bodies crowding around her. Three very male and buff looking bodies.
Wicked Tales Anthology Page 27