Yep, she talked me into it. And here I am, in the middle of nowhere, walking uphill through the darkness to some centuries-old cemetery.
Condensed version: the whole thing is creepy AF.
“Dude, are you scared or something?” Lexi teases.
I peer up at her as we climb, seeing nothing but the moon’s reflection in her round, tinted glasses—the staple to her John Lennon costume.
“First of all, only a psychopath wouldn’t be scared,” I point out. “But there’s also the fact that I’m doing all this walking in go-go boots and a minidress. Because someone insisted that I come dressed as Yoko Ono tonight.”
Meanwhile, she’s sporting a white, bell-bottomed pantsuit with matching turtleneck sweater—looking very Lennon-esque. She sprung for wigs for us both, and I can’t remember a time I’ve ever been more uncomfortable in clothes.
“We lucked out with this weather, though, right?” she points out. “Otherwise, you’d be freezing your ass off.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m trekking up a mountain in platforms.”
Laughing at my exaggeration, Lexi loops her arm through mine. “Come on, Yoko, I’ve got you,” she teases, helping me the rest of the way.
At the top of the hill, the scene has been set. As far as secret, teenage, Halloween parties go, it’s pretty decked out. Someone’s taken the time to set up and decorate snack tables, and a bunch of pumpkins have been carved with cartoon faces. Others are a bit more abstract. Like, the one of a penis, fully detailed with testicles.
Boys.
From what I can tell, there’s even designated security. Granted, those patrolling are merely underclassmen dressed in black t-shirts and jeans, but at least they’re keeping an eye on the food and drinks. I imagine this is the closest most of them will come to getting invited to a party like this any time soon. Basically, they’re likely elite hopefuls, vying for a spot within the ‘in crowd’.
Poor, disillusioned souls.
Dim lanterns hang on hooks near every other headstone. Most of the markers are aged and leaning to one side, which adds to the terrifying ambiance. Fake hands positioned on some of the graves give the appearance of the dead reaching out from the great beyond. It’s in poor taste, but creative, I guess.
Loud music blares from huge speakers at all four corners of the party space, and I refuse to scan for … him.
He’s definitely in my head, though.
Always.
“How’s your aim?”
I glance toward Lexi when she asks. “Fine, I guess. Why?”
Without further explanation, I’m dragged across the grass to a beer pong table. One with LED lights that blink to the bass pounding from the subwoofer beside it.
Lexi turns when I laugh. “It’s a little soon to start drinking, don’t you think?”
She pops a shoulder. “I figure, the sooner I get a little tipsy, the sooner I’ll forget I’m mostly partying with a bunch of losers. Then, from there, the possibilities are endless.” A huge grin brightens her face.
She steps up for a turn and I pat her on the back with a laugh. “This one’s all you, Mr. Lennon. Rock on.”
With another shrug of her shoulders, she takes a ball and it doesn’t take long for her to find a willing partner to take on the twosome across the table. After that, the next twenty minutes are a blur of flying ping pong balls and red cups going bottoms up. It becomes super clear super fast that this girl can drink most under the table. It’s Lexi’s turn and she sinks the ball into one of the other duo’s cups with ease, and those gathered around cheer her on.
“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” I lean in to tell her. “Be right back.”
She catches my wrist before I go. “Don’t take anything that isn’t sealed,” is her warning, although that’s not something I’d ever forget.
When I salute her and walk away, there’s more cheering at my back and I laugh. You’d never conclude she’s not the social type. Guess she was right. Get a few beers in her and she’s the life of the party.
One of the mini security guards eyes me as I snag a bottle of water from the cooler, and then stop to scoop some snack mix from the bowl into an orange sandwich bag. I shoot him a coy wave and keep it moving. The platform boots make walking over the uneven terrain a challenge, but I’m pretty sure no one sees the couple times I nearly face-plant into a head stone.
The music’s good and, so far, no one I hate has ventured too close to me. Parker and her girls are always lurking, but they’re mostly concerned with being seen in those red horns and the skimpy, red lingerie they’re passing off as costumes. I almost wish we weren’t experiencing a mild heatwave, so the sluts could freeze their nipples off right here in the cemetery.
Being so abundantly mature, I imagine it, their nipples slipping right out from underneath those see-through teddies and landing in the grass while each one screams in horror.
Who I haven’t seen, though, are the Golden boys. My first thought is that they’ve decided to skip the festivities this time, but no sooner than I think those words—
“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” There’s a laugh in West’s deep voice when he startles me, and it grows watching my snack bag slip from my hand. I only got to eat a few pieces out of it, and now it’s in the freakin’ dirt.
When I turn, thinking I’ll only glare at him, I suddenly wish I’d kept my eyes straight ahead.
Bare chested and solid, he’s oiled all the way down to that damn V. He looks like some sort of strip-o-gram fantasy and the thought of it has me rolling my eyes at him. You don’t get to be a complete ass and sexy, too. Just isn’t right.
He’s dressed as Egyptian royalty—black and gold, striped headdress that rests on his shoulders and matches our school colors. Then, a black kilt-like thingy, trimmed in gold. On his feet, a pair of black and gold sneakers that don’t go with his digs, but somehow make him look even hotter. I’m willing to bet that what’s on his feet costs more than my house.
I peer out across the cemetery and spot Dane and Sterling already raising hell, both wearing the exact same getup.
Freakin’ hot douche bags. All three of them.
At Dane’s side, and dressed as Cleopatra, is Joss. Her braids are down tonight, and they look like part of the costume. She’s so pretty it hurts, and I always get the impression Dane thinks so, too. I also find myself hating Joss least of all, because she seems mostly neutral.
Not any help, but not so much part of the problem.
“You gonna answer me or just pretend I’m not standing here?” West perks up again.
He sounds less … venomous than usual. Almost happy.
Almost.
“Aren’t nightmares supposed to disappear if you ignore them?” I shoot back, sipping my water, because it’s all I have left.
In my peripheral, I see the gleam of white teeth when he smiles. “Come on. Don’t be like that.”
I scoff and roll my eyes, but don’t engage.
“How’s Scarlett?” he dares to ask next, and this time, his comment has earned him a hard glare from me.
“Don’t ask about her. Or anyone else in my family,” I clarify.
The sound of West’s quiet laughter grates my nerves, but I hide it.
“Damn, Southside! You always such a bitch?”
“Only in the presence of other bitches,” I shoot back.
He’s still laughing, which nearly makes me smile. Only a freak would laugh at being called out of their name.
Something’s happening inside me. There’s this buzzing, some kind of energy that goes haywire when West is around. As much as I’d like to think it’s all bad, that would be a lie. The part of me that’s twisted like my mother sort of enjoys the raw, unbridled interaction, neither of us the least bit concerned with niceties or holding our tongues.
Whatever comes to mind, we just say it—sharp edges and all.
“You know what I think?” West asks, cutting into my thoughts as I watch Lexi from a distance. Her hands just shot up into the air, which means she’s still on a winning streak.
“What’s that?”
“I think you hate that your sister actually likes me,” he shares. “You hate that I got inside her head, but most of all, you hate that she missed it.”
My gaze leaves Lexi now, landing solely on West as the dim light of the lantern beside us outlines his pecs.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, already feeling heat seep beneath my skin.
He smirks again but takes a swig from his drink before answering. “She missed that I’m not one of the good guys.”
A surge of air fills my lungs and I’m looking at him, but not seeing him. Instead, my mind goes back to that night, the block party. I envision how Scar lit up at the sight of him, and even more so when he dropped a hundred-dollar bill into her jar.
“And what you hate even more,” West adds, “…is that you missed it.”
I feel sick to my stomach. Because … he’s right.
I did let him slip under the radar. My first impression—even my second impression—was all wrong. He’s nothing like that scorching hot exterior suggests. Inside, he’s nothing but emptiness, haunted corridors, and darkness.
Just like me.
“When are you gonna just admit it?” he asks with a humorless laugh.
My brow gathers. “You care an awful lot about what I think, while what you should be worried about is your girlfriend staring us down like she wants to set us both on fire,” I shoot back.
At those words, West’s gaze wanders across the graveyard to where Parker’s glaring with the heat of a thousand suns burning in her eyes. I don’t hate that it gets under her skin seeing West standing so close. Bitch deserves it.
“Fuck Parker,” he says with immeasurable disgust.
Caught off guard by how boldly he’s just spoken, I snap a look in his direction.
“Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way,” he continues with a widening grin, “you ready to admit it?”
Frustrated for too many reasons to name, I roll my eyes. “Admit what, West?”
“That you want me,” he answers quickly. “That you made a mistake turning me down a few weeks ago.”
He’s so focused on this conversation that he’s turned to face me full-on now. I also notice he hasn’t blinked even once since I peered up at him.
My heart does this weird thing I can’t explain, but I give nothing away, keeping my expression even.
“Well, I suppose I’ll admit all that around the same time you admit you’re an ass and have secretly wanted me, since day one. So, I guess that would be, mmm … never?”
Laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, I take a step away, thinking this would be the perfect time to make my escape. Only, I feel a firm grip at the bend of my elbow, and it causes me to stumble back in place. My back slams firmly against West’s chest and I feel his racing heart. When he leans down to speak into my ear, I stare out across the sea of headstones to Parker, our audience of one.
“How about I call your bluff,” he says, loosening his grip as both his hands move to my waist.
I’m holding my breath, and the only thought in my head is a memory of his delicious mouth. Even now, I remember its heat, imagining it moving over my skin.
“I’m an ass,” he admits with an air of honesty I don’t miss. “And I’ve wanted you since day one.” He’s challenging me, throwing my dare right back in my face.
“West, I…”
“Don’t feed me that bull about all the shit I’ve done,” he groans against my ear, “because the things I’ve done would only hurt someone normal. And own it, Southside. We’re both pretty fucking far from normal.”
I have serious concerns that my heart might actually beat out of my chest. The music seems louder, echoing inside my bones as he holds me against him.
“Sticks and stones can’t break us. Because, you and me … we’re already broken.”
My eyes fall shut when he summarizes the entire script of my life with that one statement. It leaves me feeling bare, like he and I are one in the same. Only, we can’t be.
I mean … right?
He’s insane and I’m …
Damn, maybe I’m insane, too. I must be to let him get inside my head like this. To let him touch me like this.
At this very moment, something clicks. I get what it is about him, why I get revved up whenever he steps foot in my direction. He draws out the numbness, the mental Novocain that’s helped me get through all the pain and bullshit. He makes me face it all. Makes me feel it all. He doesn’t let me hide behind the crumbling wall made up of the half-cocked ‘everything will be okay’ and ‘it’ll get better’ rhetoric the rest of the world feeds me. West forces me to see the truth, that life really is a shitshow, and he’s the one person not afraid to admit that. Not afraid to live that.
If he weren’t so sick in the head, I might consider this an honorable trait. But instead, I see him becoming my crutch. The thing I lean on to feel real.
Even if all he makes me feel is his darkness.
His touch has become familiar. My skin knows it well. His palm splays flat across my stomach and I’m melting into him as it rises higher, until his thumb brushes the wire under my bra. I’m certain I’ll disappear if I give in to what I want.
“Come with me, Southside. This is my second and final offer. There won’t be a third,” he warns
I stumble before catching my balance when he backs away, leaving me to stand on my own. My eyes chase after him, following as he disappears in the shadows of a mausoleum that looks to be as old as this cemetery.
I glance at Lexi and consider shooting her a text, but my focus is on the dark space where West just disappeared, and … I can’t fight it.
I follow the devil right into the unknown.
