I smile, even though he can’t see it. “You too.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence, and then he opens the door a crack. Light spills in, bleaching the moment away.
“After you,” he says, voice lower.
I’m still vibrating when I step out of the closet, the world so bright and loud it hurts. My whole face tingles, lips electric and raw. Sara’s there, hands cupped around a solo cup, eyes locked on me. She doesn’t say anything, just gives a tiny nod and the barest lift of a brow. For some reason, that’s enough to keep my knees from buckling.
“Are you okay?” she whispers.
I nod, too overwhelmed to speak.
“See you around,” he says, almost shy, as he brushes my arm in passing.
“Yeah,” I say, barely above a whisper.
Already across the room, Aaron chats with his friends beside a keg. He’s got the Deadpool mask in one hand, his hair a little mussed. He looks up and catches my gaze.
I can’t read the look on his face. Did he recognize me? Did he even see me in the darkness, or did I just taste like a dare, a random in the chemical fog of the night? The thought should be a relief, but instead it lodges somewhere deep in my chest, sharp and cold.
I start to think he knows, really knows, but then his expression flickers and he’s back to party mode.
Hunter appears, grinning like a wolf. “Well?”
I glare at him, but it’s half-hearted. “You’re evil.”
He bows. “Thank you, thank you. But you did all the work.”
Sara takes my hand and squeezes, her smile tinged with pride and something else—envy, maybe, or nostalgia. “You’re a legend,” she says, and this time, I almost believe her.
Hunter pulls us away from the crowd, his arm slung around both our shoulders. “Let’s get out of here. I think we’ve done enough damage for one night.”
We weave through the kitchen, dodging the banana and pizza boys, and out into the relative calm of the night. We leave the Pi Omega house behind, the bass and laughter receding into the crisp air. The campus is nearly empty, lit only by a few streetlights and the moon, which glows the same plastic white as the costume wig in my peripheral vision.
We walk in silence for a while, our breaths fogging in the chill.
Finally, Sara says, “Was it as bad as you thought?”
I shake my head. “It was… weird. But not bad.”
Hunter grins, squeezing my shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”
We walk together, three weirdos in their Halloween best, lit by the glow of streetlights and our own residual highs. When we reach the steps of my building, Sara turns to me and says, “You were amazing tonight.”
I want to believe it. Maybe, for the first time, I do.
Hunter ruffles my wig, careful not to mess up Sara’s masterpiece. “You broke the mold, Montgomery. Next year’s gonna have to be pretty epic to top this.”
I laugh, and it sounds real. “Never again,” I say, but even I don’t believe it.
In the safety of my room, I peel off the dress, the wig, the layers of transformation. Underneath it all, I’m still myself, but something is different—lighter, maybe. Or just more awake.
I shower then fall onto my bed, eyes closed, the taste of blue punch and adrenaline still lingering on my tongue.
I don’t know what comes next, but for the first time, I think maybe I want to find out.
Chapter 4
The morning after is always a letdown. The world is too bright, too cold, and the noise of campus is a reminder that the universe does not care if you reinvented yourself last night. Or if you kissed a boy in the dark and then evaporated like a volatile organic.
