He scrunches his brows together, considering the offer very seriously.
“Can I be Tigger instead?”
“Sure,” I say before turning to Jack. “Jack can be Piglet.”
“Just because I let you dress me up as a Minion this year doesn’t mean you have free reign for all future Halloweens,” he protests.
“You made a grave mistake, Jack Robbit,” I say, half-jokingly, half-threateningly. “I’ll be insatiable now. It’ll be like having two Little Ones to dress up, I am going to havesomuch fun.”
“Sweet Jesus,” he mutters, barely audible over the raucous laughter filling the air from the other three.
We tear down the majority of the setup, bringing the chairs, fake candles, and nearly empty cauldron into the house. I think David ate as much as he handed out, and judging by the way he sugar-crashes on the basement couch the moment we’re finished, I’d say my measurements were correct.
“It’s like having a little brother I never asked for,” Ellie says, rolling her eyes even as she gently places a blanket over him. “Let’s hope your baby actually grows up by the time they’re thirty.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, overwhelmed by fondness for our wild-child friend. “I think it’s nice that he still has this much gusto for life. He’s not cynical yet like the rest of us. Let him have his whimsy.”
“Next time, Whimsy can crash onyourcouch,” she says, bumping my hip with her own.
“Yeah,” Griffin adds. “And he can throw up a grocery store’s worth of candy inyourbathroom sink.”
“Eugh,” Jack grunts in disgust. “Did he do that last year?”
“Sure did,” Ellie says flatly. “I’ve bleached it a hundred times since last Halloween and I still can’t bring myself to use it.”
Bidding them goodnight, Jack and I walk arm in arm down their yard and up my own. The moment we’re inside, he rips off his goggles and shimmies out of his overalls. Even though he still has his sweatpants on underneath, my stomach still flips as I try my best not to ogle at him as he undresses.
“Thank God I’m out of those,” he sighs. “You will never see me in another pair of overalls in this lifetime.”
“Is that a challenge?” I joke, yawning deeply.
“Not even a little bit,” he groans. “I mean it, I’ll be Piglet before I’ll get back in those.”
“I’m going to remember you said that,” I mumble, suddenly feeling like I could fall asleep right here, standing up in the hallway.
“Go get out of that awful outfit,” he demands, spinning me around and marching me down the hallway, something that’s becoming a habit of his when he decides it’s time for bed.
“I thought you said I was the prettiest Minion in the world,” I argue, but let him lead me to my room. “Were you just saying that?”
“No,” he says quietly. “I meant it. I think you’d be the prettiest anything.”
I turn around to face him, my breath hitching in my chest. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I just stare at him, and the odd expression on his face. Something flashes in his eyes, just for the briefest of moments. Before I can pinpoint what it is, he gives me a quick hug, wishing me goodnight and disappearing into the makeshift bedroom he’s called home for weeks now.
That’s the third time he’s outright called me pretty.
I get ready for bed in what feels like slow motion, carefully folding up the costume like it’s the most precious thing in theworld and placing it on a back shelf in my closet. My mind replays the moment I realized what he’d done for me. I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be that thoughtful, to know what I needed when I didn’t know it myself.
Not anyone besides Aaron, anyway.
The awful confusion that sends physical pangs through my body when both Jack and Aaron are occupying my thoughts is stronger tonight than it’s ever been. I feel enormously guilty about how much I like it when he calls me pretty.
I feel even worse that I hope he keeps saying it.
Chapter 19
Abby
Eighteen Weeks
