really, don’t you need a break?”
Do I want to go out and relax? Of course. Do I want to do it with Jason? That’s the question. I keep waiting for the butterflies to take flight, but so far, I only have nerves from hanging out with someone I barely know.
“What if I get arrested for public indecency? There’s a very good chance I might poke out someone’s eye with my nipples if it gets cold tonight.”
She cackles. “My old roommate used Band-Aids over her nipples for extra coverage.” With one arm, she holds it up to me. “You’ve been working your ass off since I moved in. I barely see you. What’s a few hours of letting your hair down?”
Ugh, she’s saying everything I want to hear. Where the hell’s Ramona? I need someone to talk some sense into me, and I can usually trust Ramona to give it to me straight. There’s nothing she loves more than raining on someone’s parade. But Sienna, the annoying little ray of sunshine that she is, seems convinced I’ll enjoy myself tonight. “Screw it. You only live once, right?”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” She does a weird dance in her Poison Ivy costume that makes her strategically placed vines shake.
I have to admit that after my initial annoyance with her for lusting after football players—which is totally hypocritical, I know—she’s worn down my resistance to being friends. I have, like, two, and honestly I wasn’t looking for more. But she’s so damn nice. Always doing things for me for no apparent reason. I should be suspicious. Except I get the feeling she’s genuinely a good person who—get this—likes doing nice things for people just for the hell of it.
By the time she gets me strapped into the costume, I’m having major second thoughts. “I’m supposed to be Marie Antoinette, right? And not a French prostitute?”
“Gah! You’re gorgeous! You look like a Victoria’s Secret model.”
“You know they wear underwear, right? Typically worn under clothes.” I attempt to yank the skirt down, but there’s so little of it. “For the record, there’s a very strong draft shooting up my rear.”
The doorbell rings, and my heart pounds, and not in a good way.
“I know!” I wave my hand to prevent her from answering. “I can go as a schoolteacher. I can toss on a turtleneck and a pencil skirt and call it a day.”
Sienna shakes her head as she charges out of the bathroom, presumably for the door. “It’s not a costume if you wear it to work!”
I stare at the stranger in the mirror, a little awed I don’t even look like myself. I guess that’s my answer. No one will even recognize me, so what’s the harm?
If I had to guess what most people thought I was tonight, I’d definitely have to go with French prostitute.
I ignore the catcalls I get as I pump gas for Jason, who’s inside paying.
It’s freaking freezing, and this sad excuse for a shawl does nothing to help me stay warm. We’ve been hopping from one Halloween party to the next where I don’t know anyone. Jason’s having a great time, though. At least one of us is. My feet are killing me, my nipples are so cold I could carve my name in the windshield, and I have a headache from hell.
“Ooof.”
“Dude, why’d you stop?”
“Oh. Damnnn.”
I turn around and stare at five zombie football players. Who are actually football players.
See, Sienna. I totally could’ve been a teacher tonight!
I squint at the guy in the back whose familiar scowl I recognize. “Ben?”
He does that thing with his chin that’s supposed to pass for a greeting.
I’m really tired of how my brother’s turned into a raging asshole. Our parents would be so disappointed by his lack of manners.
“How’s it going, Gabs?”
My heart drops at the sound of that voice.
Rider Kingston. Of fucking course.
Because being on a second date means I have to run into this man.
My attention goes straight to those criminally beautiful gray eyes fringed with dark lashes. Even with zombie makeup, the man is ridiculously handsome.
I want to punch him in his pretty face.
Before I can say anything, a gaggle of women swarm around them because these guys travel in an entourage like they’re the Kardashians.
Some girl—a new one this time—wraps her arms around Rider and giggles into his ear.
If this is the universe’s idea of a joke, it sucks.
I roll my eyes and open the door to Jason’s SUV.
One of the other zombie football players coughs. “Since