HALLOWEEN IS NOT a holiday I usually celebrate. When we were children, we didn’t go trick-or-treating. That was far too beneath my mother’s standards, walking around our neighborhood begging for candy “like poor people” I heard her say once.
Considering she also regaled us with stories about her own youthful trick-or-treat endeavors, I always thought that was rather hypocritical of her. She just didn’t want to deal with the ritual.
When we were very young, me almost too young to remember, every year, my mother would throw extravagant costume parties the weekend before Halloween for her friends’ children and us, of course. I don’t remember having much fun. I specifically recall crying one year—I must’ve been four—because Whit dressed as a vampire and chased me around the house with his fake teeth and “blood” dripping from the corners of his mouth. Sylvie laughing the entire time.
My siblings were the worst.
My subtle dislike for the holiday grew over the years until I flat-out ignored it when it came around. I dressed up in costumes all the time for the stage. Beautiful, glittering costumes were my life. Why would I need to wear an ugly, cheap one for a useless holiday where fattening candy is given to children in some sort of morbid ritual that has pagan origins?
No thanks.
This year, I’m faking my joy for the holiday for Sadie. She’s so excited about the party that’s being held at one of the old, burned-out buildings on campus after hours that I think she might pass out and miss the entire event. I actually got an edible from Brent to give to her to nibble on so she’ll mellow out while I work on her makeup in my suite.
“I love it back here. Your room is so big,” she says as she wanders around my suite, going to the window so she can stare outside. “It’s so private though. Do you ever get freaked out, being out here all alone?”
I think of the afternoon a couple of days ago, when I’d hoped West and I would finally have sex but were interrupted by something—or someone. “Not really.” That was the only time I felt nervous, and I’ve tried to put the moment out of my mind. “The doors are locked every evening and it’s pretty secure. I like the privacy.”
She glances over at me, watching as I go through the various cosmetics that I have in my vanity table drawer. “You do seem to like your alone time.”
“I don’t have a problem being alone,” I correct, noting the way her brows draw together. “You don’t like being alone?’
“No way.” She shifts away from the window and plops on the edge of my bed closest to the vanity. “With all of my brothers and sisters growing up, I was never alone. Then I came here and I was completely ostracized. That was the worst, spending those lunch hours in the library with no one to talk to. Until you.”
I smile. “Until me.”
“I’m glad we’re friends, Carolina. Sometimes I think I might irritate you because I don’t ever seem to stop talking, yet you still want to spend time with me.” She scoots forward, throwing her arms around me and squeezing me tight so quickly, I’m frozen in place for a bit. I didn’t expect her to touch me, so I didn’t have time to prepare for it. “Thank you for being my friend.”
“You’re welcome.” I reach around her, patting her back awkwardly until I finally just give in and squeeze her back. It’s not so bad, hugging people you like. “You have other friends now. And Brent.”
“All of those other girls are fake bitches compared to you. At least you keep it real.” She pulls away from me. “And yeah, I have Brent. He keeps it real with me too. I think I’m in love with him.”
Love. She tosses the word around so carelessly. I can’t imagine saying that about West to someone else.
I can’t imagine telling him that now.
I love you.
The words would sputter on my tongue and I would make a complete fool of myself. Besides, I can’t bring myself to say something I don’t know the meaning of.
Do I love West? I’m not sure. I like him a lot. He’s kind to me—now. He’s interesting, though he’s also secretive. I am too, though. Sometimes I feel as if we’re just circling each other, waiting for the other to give in first.
Give in to what, I’m still not sure.
“Really? You’re in love with him?” I ask when I realize she’s waiting for me to respond. “Why do you say that?”
“I get all tingly every time I catch him looking at me, which is often. He makes me laugh. Like all the time. And the sex is so good. Like, I didn’t know it could be like that.” She bites her lip, just before she starts giggling. “I feel like a grown-up.”
“You’re only seventeen, right?” I’m in the grade above her. Have lived mostly on my own for years, yet I still don’t feel like a grown-up. Not even close.
“I’m actually eighteen. I got held back one year because of my family traveling all the time. Mom’s homeschool regimen wasn’t as great as she thought it was.” More laughter as she bounces up and down on my bed. “Want to get started on the makeup?”
I have whiplash from my conversations with Sadie, but I’d rather do her makeup than talk about feelings and how much we love our boyfriends. “Yes, let’s do it.”
“Yay! We’re running out of time. I want to be out at the old building by nightfall.”
The boys are out there already, setting everything up. The party is a tradition, started by my brother of all people, who hosted his own wild Halloween party his senior year back when he was here at Lancaster Prep. Once that started, the students kept the tradition going, and West and his group of friends are the ones in charge of it this year.
I sort of felt like I should have had a hand in some of the planning since I’m a Lancaster and my brother started this, but West reassured me that they had everything under control. Unless bad weather prevented the party from happening, there wasn’t much needed at the location anyway. Lights, electricity, plenty of alcohol and music was all that was required.
“What are you dressing up as? You never did tell me,” Sadie says as I start working on her foundation, which is so pale it’s almost white. They’re going as vampires—my brother would surely approve.
“A flapper.” I found the cutest dress for the costume, and West ordered a suit costume on Amazon. “We’re from the 1920s,” I explain when I see her little frown.
“Like The Great Gatsby? Oh, I loved that movie!”
“We just read the book for English,” I tell her.
“Meh, I won’t read it. Hopefully everything they test us on is in the movie. I’ll need to rewatch it! I’m a total fan of Leonardo.” She starts shimmying and I give her a stern look, which makes her stop. “Just think, I could possibly be his girlfriend one day. He doesn’t like them over twenty-five, remember?”
That’s just gross. “What, so he gets older yet all of his girlfriends stay the same age?”
“Essentially. When you’re Leonardo, I guess you can get away with that.”
I dab some concealer under her eyes. “What about your relationship with Brent?”
“What about it?” When I send her a knowing look, she shrugs. “If you’re implying Brent and I will end up together forever, I’m going to have to say probably not. We’re young. I still have another year in high school after you guys graduate. I’m pretty sure we’re not going to last.”
I almost admire how breezy she is about the entire situation. “And you’re okay with that?”
“We’re in high school, Carolina.” She grins, and I nearly poke her eye out with the concealer wand when she moves. “I’m not looking for an epic love story when a fun high school romance will suffice.”
“Suffice? Nice word choice.” I set the concealer on the table and grab a sponge, blending the concealer with little dabs. “And I thought you were in love with him.”
“I am. But we both know it’s nothing serious. I can love him and not want to marry him.” Her eyes widen the slightest bit. “Are you saying you’re in love with West and can imagine the two of you together forever?”
“Absolutely not,” I practically snap, leaning back to check out my work. Sadie looks ghostly pale, which I think was her intention. “I don’t know how I feel about him.”
“You’re not in love with him?” Sadie sounds shocked. “I see the way he looks at you. How he’s always touching you.”
I’m tingly at her just saying that. “That’s just lust, not love.”
“I don’t know about that.” Sadie sounds skeptical, but I can’t let her reaction get my hopes up. “He seems pretty concerned about you all the time. I think you mean a lot to him.”
She doesn’t know, I think as I start shading her cheekbones to make them appear hollower. I might mean something to him, but is it enough? No. Not really. We’re not serious. I shouldn’t want us to be serious. I’m leaving. He’s leaving. There’s no point.
But there’s also the tiniest part of me that wants us to be something … more. Something real and powerful and true. I want him to fall in love with me and want to be with me forever. What would it be like, knowing that Weston Fontaine was mine, forever?
I don’t think I’m ever going to find out.
BY THE TIME we’re headed out to the old building, it’s dark. Almost seven o’clock. Sadie had a full bottle of vodka in her bag of goodies that she brought to my room and we pre-partied, as she called it, though I only took a few sips.
I want to keep my wits about me tonight. I’ve been on edge since that afternoon in my room with West, and I want to be fully functional while I’m around my classmates.
As we draw closer, we can hear the low bass of music playing. The constant murmur of multiple, excited conversations. I sneak my arm through Sadie’s and clutch her close, trying to fight the nervousness bouncing in my stomach, turning what little food and vodka that’s in there into a nauseating swirl.
“There are so many people here,” Sadie practically squeals, resting her hand over mine as the building comes into view.
“How do we not get in trouble for doing this?” I ask weakly, my gaze scrutinizing every face I see, recognizing none of them. They either have masks on, or their faces are painted, or they’re wearing a wig. Maybe even a combination of all three.
“They turn a blind eye to this party every single year. As long as things don’t get too out of control, they don’t mind.” When I send her a questioning look Sadie explains further, “Brent told me because I asked him the same question.”
I need to talk to my brother about the party he threw. I wonder if he’d be forthcoming with the details—or tell me to go to hell, which is what he usually says when I question him about anything he’s done in the past.
As we draw closer to the building, the ground grows softer, my sparkly gold heels sinking into the grass. It was raining earlier this week for a few days straight, and the air is chilly. Winter is coming soon, and from what I hear, it’s rather cold and dreary at Lancaster during those months.
I should feel right at home. It’s the same in London during the winter.
Clusters of people are standing outside, clutching beer bottles, their happy chatter growing louder. There’s lots of laughter and squealing, and I can see bodies inside the building—well, there’s no roof since it burned over one hundred years ago, but there are at least still walls—moving to the music that’s playing.
My feet are pinched in the heels and the dress I’m wearing is cheap and itchy, but I like the way it looks. It’s white and sleeveless, sparkly thin straps holding it up, with the skirt hitting me mid-thigh. Almost the entire dress is covered in white sparkly fringe that moves when I walk, the hem of the skirt covered in white feathers. I have a thin gold headband that wraps around my head, with a white feather that sticks straight up. Ropes of actual pearls circle my neck, inherited from my great-grandmother. I’m taking a total risk wearing them, but I have never worn them before either, so I thought I might as well give them a try.
“Oh, there they are!” Sadie thrusts her hand into the air, waving excitedly at Brent and West, who are standing near the old, rickety steps that lead into the building. “Hey!”
My gaze sticks on West at the same time he sees me, his lips shifting into a smirk. I stand a little taller, my steps becoming more confident when I know he’s watching me; and as I make my way toward him, he leaves Brent to meet me halfway, gathering my hands in his and spreading my arms wide so he can study me closely.
“Look at you,” he says with a low whistle, his tone admiring. “Damn, girl.”
“You like it?” I sound hopeful. God, I sound like Sadie, all jittery and excited when I should be trying to play it cool.
“You look fucking hot.” I give a little shimmy, the sparkly white tassels swinging. “I don’t know what to say.”
I laugh, savoring the heady feeling of leaving West at a loss for words at my outfit.
I think that’s a first.
“I love your suit,” I tell him, my voice quiet. It’s a standard black tux with a black bowtie and stark white, pleated front shirt, but he looks so incredibly handsome. His hair is slicked back, just like they wore it in the movie and his face is clean-shaven. I cup his cheek, unable to resist, a giggle escaping me when he kisses me in front of everyone right on the lips.
“These look real.” He gently tugs at the strand of pearls around my neck. “You should be careful.”
“They were my great-grandmother’s,” I inform him, thrilled when he drops the necklace and offers his arm for me to take. I circle mine through his and he leads me up the stairs and into the building, which is even more crowded with people.
“You better watch out,” he says, dipping his head close to mine, so I can hear him over the loud music. “Don’t want to break them.”
“Protect me and I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I smile up at him, surprised when he leans in and kisses me again, leaving me dizzy.
“I’ll protect you from everyone.” He gives my arm a squeeze. “Promise.”
He leads me to a makeshift bar and I grab a bottle of beer, taking a quick sip before I whisper in his ear, “I’m not drinking much tonight.”
“I’m buzzin’,” he admits, a sly smile on his face as he grabs my beer and takes a giant swig from it.
“I can tell.” I glance around the room, my gaze snagging on the bodies moving to the music in the center of the floor. “We should dance.”
“I have two left feet, remember?” He raises his brows.
How could I ever forget? The nightclub in Paris. Oh, I was so awful to him then, and now look at me. In a puddle just from the way this boy looks at me.
“I can dance well enough for the both of us.” I take his hand, letting him keep the beer as I drag him toward the group of people dancing. “Come on.”
The song ends, “Shake It Off” by Taylor Swift coming on, and while it’s not a favorite, it is spectacularly easy to dance to. I move to the beat, letting the music flow through me, mouthing along to the lyrics. My dress puts on a show of its own, the sparkly tassels swinging, the feathers fluttering around my thighs. West sort of stands there, not really dancing at all though he watches me carefully, his gaze admiring. Full of emotion I don’t quite recognize.
The song is over quickly, a slow song coming on, and West yanks me toward him without hesitation, his hands sliding around my waist, over my butt as we start to move. I loop my arms around his neck, my fingers toying with his soft hair.
“You’re beautiful,” he tells me, his gaze sincere as we dance. It’s so intense, I get lost in it a little. Everyone around us fades, and it’s like we’re the only two in this building. Dancing to the music. Feeling each other.
“So are you,” I say with a tiny smile, which makes him smile in return. “We’ve come a long way.”
“From the mean, fake Parisian girl to the sweet little dancer that you are now? I’ll say,” he drawls, teasing me.
“You,” I slide my hand down, giving him a light slap on the chest, “are mean.”
He leans in close, inhaling as if he’s trying take in my scent, his mouth drifting across my cheek before he whispers in my ear, “You like it.”
He’s right. I do. I’m grateful he’s holding me or else I’d collapse to the floor, my knees weakened by his whispered words.
I close my eyes as we shuffle together, my forehead lightly resting against his shoulder, his arms tightening around me. This feels so right, being with him. In his arms. Forgetting everyone else and just focusing on him and the way he makes me feel.
With West, I want too much. I want everything he can give me. The more time I spend with him, the more I want to spend time with him, and I realize …
I’m becoming dependent on him. Probably too much.
It’s going to hurt when it’s over. I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive it.
But I’m a Lancaster, after all.
We can survive anything.
