Ezzy: Hot guys here! You could still come out.
Quincey: I’ve got pizza. Pizza loves me. Pizza won’t break my heart. In fact, I’m pretty sure dough in any form is scientifically proven to mend hearts.
Ezzy: First of all, ice cream mends hearts.
Ezzy: Second of all, pizza doesn’t give you orgasms.
Quincey: Have you tried Frank’s pizza?
Ezzy: God, you’re the worst. At least download a dating app so we can scroll through it hungover in bed tomorrow.
I rolled my eyes, shaking my head down at the phone as if she could see me. Whilst I understood where she was coming from, she did truly want the best for me after all, but I just wasn’t interested in anyone I’d met in Darling up until that point. Like excuse me if the undead cheerleader or the guy dressed as Luigi (terrible sexual innuendos and all) didn’t do it for me. But there was simply no escaping her constant need to ensure I wasn’t lonely. It wasn’t like I wanted to be lonely, and for the most part, Iwasn’t;I just believed in something more natural. Like good timing, prolonged eye contact, and a mildly awkward encounter.
Those made the best love stories, didn’t they?
Just as I was typing out my response, I heard another banging from the main entrance hallway. I ignored it, assuming it was another one of the girls, stumbling home in a torrent of drunk chaos whenhewalked into the kitchen.
Talk about good timing.
The first thing I noticed about him was that he was tall. Very tall. ‘How’s the weather up there?’tall. He had a broad frame that fit well with his height and strong arms that bulged with muscle, pulling the fabric of his shirt taut across his body. Hewore a black, long-sleeved, collared shirt and black trousers that hugged his muscular thighs. His skin was slightly pale but had a golden hue that seemed to illuminate under the ambient kitchen lighting.
All of that was well and good, but his fiery red hair that was almost crimson in colour, and his matching red contacts had the air well and truly lodged in my throat. And for a moment, I drank him in. It was rare that I ever had such a visceral reaction to anyone, and I hadn’t in a very long time. I mean, he was stunning, he really was, which probably meant he was here on some drunken one-night stand with one of the equally beautiful girls that lived here.
For a moment, he just looked around as if trying to find someone before his eyes landed on me. And then narrowed. I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Maybe I’d had a little too much to drink, because I could have sworn his eyes went jet black as he looked at me. But once I’d shaken the notion from my brain, it was almost like I was lost in the reds of his eyes and the intensity of his gaze.Good timing and prolonged eye contact and–
Nope. He’s not here for you.
“Uh, hello, there,” I said quietly, looking him up and down again.Jesus, what is wrong with you, Quincey? You are a person. A person with manners.“Sorry, I think you kind of missed the party.”
He considered me for a second, let his eyes rake up the side of my body before settling on the hand still clutched onto a slice of pizza that had since lost its toppings. Because nothing screamed sexy like a girl sitting alone on a Friday night with nothing more than a half-eaten pizza to keep her company. “I was summoned.”
Okay…
I let out an awkward laugh, letting my social unease get the better of me. “Right, well, I’m not sure who invited you or texted you, but pretty much everyone has headed down to Irvine Avenue, so maybe try there?”
He continued to stare at me, eyes unblinking. I couldn’t tell if it was irritation or him trying to tear my clothes off, but I once again felt like the heat had been turned up in the house. I felt flustered and off balance and had a feeling of electricity pooling at my core. All of a sudden, I became aware of myself. How I looked, what I said. I felt all too self-conscious under the brutality of his gaze, and how his eyes were laser-focused on me and my mouth.Oh, god, don’t let it be because of tomato sauce.
“Do I have something on my face?” I asked quietly, rubbing at my mouth with the back of my hand. His staring had evolved from oddly hypnotising to verging on a little creepy. “Dude?”Great, just another drunk, leering asshole.
I put on my cheeriest, friendliest voice, feeling like I should somehow let this guy down easy because he had clearly been stood up or something, even though it was definitelynotmy fucking responsibility. “Listen, I sympathise with the fact that you’ve obviously been invited here and then someone’s fucked off without you,” I looked him up and down again, trying to see if he was registering what I was saying, “but unless you want to stand there and watch me eat pizza, I think you’ll have better luck on Irvine Av.”
He blinked.Okay, so someone is home.But still he said nothing. I could see from the clench of his jaw, his furrowed brow, and the way he muttered something under his breath that he was irritated. Very irritated. Unbelievably irritated by the way he began to shake his head. He took two or three deep breaths like his sanity depended on it before looking back at me.
“I like your horns, by the way,” I said as I pointed at the little black stumps that currently protruded from the top of his head.
“You like my what?” he gritted out, voice cold, harsh, and unfriendly. He raised a darkened, clawed hand to the side of his head before clenching it and looking at me again.Jesus, that make-up is unbelievable.
That wasn’t unexpected, though. The kids around here hadfuck-offmoney. Money that could usually be found in place of a decent personality. Money that seemed to lap away at their common sense until there was nothing left but fancy cars and lavish holidays beneath the surface. And as much as I thought it was ridiculous, I couldn’t blame them for having money. Sometimes it was entertaining the way they made a sport out of spending it, too. Who needed the fuckingOlympicswhen I could watch Scott Vernon hire seven bodyguards to walk him around campus because he’d tried it on with Adam Campbell’s girlfriend.
Either way, given how well off everyone was, Halloween was one of those events that got taken far too seriously. Where costumes were ostentatious and wildly expensive. I did like that he hadn’t gone for something so generic, though.
“No, seriously, and the claws too? Very cool, very old school Halloween. I like it a lot, you look hot—I mean, yeah, you look cool. Probably good that you didn’t go for something so generic. Pop culture wise, of course. I’ve seen like fourBarbiestoday.”
