“And who are you attracted to?” My face is so hot that, for a moment, I wonder whether I have a fever. “Which gender?”
Phantom’s response to this question comes easier. “It’s not about gender for me. It’s about the person—about their soul.”
“What type of person then?” I push, knowing damn well I might be crossing a boundary.
“A good person. Brave and honest and... beautiful.”
Their gloved hand twitches next to my elbow, almost as if they’re itching to reach for something, but are holding themself back.
My stomach flutters traitorously. I force any and all hopeful thoughts away by conjuring an image of Noah in my mind’s eye. I take a grounding breath before I speak again.
“Whoever that person is, they sound great,” I eventually find the courage to say.
“They are.”
“So, why don’t you tell them how you feel? Since I haven’t seen you hang out with anyone but me, I’m assuming you haven’t yet.”
Their voice turns hoarse. “I can’t. I’ll ruin them.”
I rise to lean on my elbows so fast I startle even myself. Glaring down at Phantom, as my gaze bounces between green and blue, I’m overcome with the sudden urge to shake them, but thankfully, I shove the impulse down.
“That’s enough,” I rebuke sternly. “You’re not allowed to talk about yourself like that anymore, okay?”
Phantom’s mouth falls open under the mask, their eyes stretching wide to match.
“You’ve been my role model for years. When you talk about yourself like this, it feels like a slap to the face. It’s like you’re saying I’m wrong for admiring you. That I’m wrong for taking so much inspiration from your art.” I’m breathing too fast, my chest heaving in an attempt to keep up. “And it hurts, okay?”
“Okay,” they say, moving a hesitant hand toward my shoulder, but ultimately dropping it before making contact.
“Talk about yourself like I would talk about you,” I plead.
“And how’s that?” they ask breathlessly, a new, unidentifiable emotion swimming in their eyes.
I steal Phantom’s own words. “As a good person. Someone who’s brave and honest and beautiful.”
Our gazes stay locked.
“You’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” they confide, fracturing the tension.
I collapse, falling back to rest on the blanket. My body feels like I just ran a marathon. Instead of responding with words, I grab their hand and lace my gloved fingers between theirs as we stargaze a while longer.
It’s only been two weeks since the Halloween festival, but already, I know Phantom is right.
You’re my best friend too.
25New
It took several days for me to convince Phantom to come to the party. Apparently, it’s one of the biggest bashes of the year, falling on the Friday before Thanksgiving break. Franco and Zayne are hosting it at their house this year, and now that I know all of my favorite people are going to be there, I amsoready to celebrate.
I curl my hair and throw it up into a high ponytail to get it off my neck. Then, I paint a full face of makeup, adding little dots of silver liquid eyeliner in line with my dark irises on the lower lids. They glisten in the vanity light as I move my face back and forth appreciatively. Finishing up the look with a dark plum lip stain, I exit the bathroom to dress.
“Someone’s pulling out all the stops tonight,” Iris comments as I slip into a silky dark purple dress with loose, billowy sleeves.
“No,” I assure her as I step into sheer black tights. “This outfit’s just new.”
“Mhm,” Iris harrumphs, eyeing me up and down with another one of her suspicious looks.
My stomach squirms guiltily. “What? It’s not like my boyfriend is going to be here to appreciate it.”
