Page 54 of Your Masked Haunting

Her mom scoops her up and spins her around with glee, and a tightness forms in my chest. I try not to compare my life, especially my family, with others. But, fuck, this one punched me in the gut.

I’ve never had a moment like that with my parents. Maybe when I was really little, but even then, I could feel the lack of love between us. It was a hard lesson to learn, one I understood faster when I was in school.

Packed lunchboxes with handwritten notes from doting parents. Dino-shaped sandwiches. Cut-up fruit. Snacks. And dessert. I never had any of that. I was lucky if I could find something in the fridge to bring with me. If not, my teachers were usually the ones to share a part of their lunch to help me out. The teachers were the main reason I even graduated. All of them helped me grow and took better care of me than my parents. As fucking sad as that is.

If it wasn’t for seeing moments like this, I wouldn’t know what I had missed.

Being scooped up, encased completely in the arms of someone who swears to love and protect you and means it … I crave that every single damn day.

I need a drink by the time I’m done with my clients today. Whether it’s my irritability or sleep deprivation from last night, I’m exhausted and over the day. Thankfully, the pub is still open downstairs when I’m off.

I’m not going to get hammered or take any crazy shots. It’s late afternoon on a Tuesday. But I just want a glass of wine or a cranberry vodka. I don’t even want to have to decide right now. I’m tired of making decisions today.

“What can I get for you?” The bartender greets me with a smile, but he’s got a heaviness under his eyes that I don’t miss, especially because mine look the exact same.

“Can you genuinely just surprise me? Nothing sour. I love anything sweet. Wine. Vodka. Not tequila.” I melt against the countertop, my chin dropping onto the heel of my hand.

Nodding reassuringly, he grabs bottles and mixes a bunch of stuff together before pouring the swirling orange-and-red drink into a glass. He shoves two mini straws and a garnish in it before sliding it gently across the top to me. “What do you think? It’s one of our most popular ones right now.”

I take a sip, scared I’ll hate it and not be able to hide my distaste. But as it hits my tongue, I quickly realize that if I’m not careful, I’ll chug this in thirty seconds flat. “It’s delicious.”

“Sweet cherry liqueur. Orange juice. Cream soda vodka. Splash of grenadine.” He lists the ingredients. “And an orange slice with a cherry ‘eyeball’ skewered on a pick on top.”

I noticed the rather unappealing carved-out cherry, skewered with a blueberry inside of it.

“What is it called?” I ask, knowing damn well it’ll be my go-to from here on out.

One sip. Two sips. Three sips later, and I force the glass a few inches from me, swishing the final drink back and forth in my mouth.

“It’s off of our new menu. We usually change it out every week. The customers love the variety. But we got word from the bosses that they want this one to stick around. I don’t mind though because it’s been super popular.” He grabs a paper and slides it over to me, pointing out the drink as I take a sip. “Right here. The Scaredy-Cat.”

The liquid in my mouth almost sprays the bar and the worker, but I catch myself just in time, but not without consequence. My throat catches fire as I choke, coughing erratically.

“Oh God. Are you okay?” His eyes widen, his hands clenching and unclenching, like he’s unsure how to act.

Grabbing my Scaredy-Cat, I take another drink, feeling the smooth drink coat my throat and gradually calm the itchiness and burning.

“Sorry,” I apologize, my breathing regulating. “I just swallowed wrong.”

Rubbing the soreness of my throat, I nod, trying to convince him that’s what happened and not that I nearly covered him in a sugary beverage because, somehow, my masked stalker got a drink named after me here. It could be a crazy coincidence. But nothing about my time here has been coincidental. So, I find it hard to believe.

“Want some water?” he offers, already reaching for a small cup and scoop of ice.

My phone vibrates, face-down beside my arm.

“Yeah. That’d be great. Thanks.”

Spooky Boy said he has cameras everywhere in here, so I wonder if he can see me right now. My gaze wanders around before I can stop making my curiosity so obvious. But I have yet to spot a single camera in my small room, let alone a dimly lit tavern like this.

But I quickly give up and check my phone, finding a text from the man of the hour, who has more secrets from me than I thought.

Spooky Boy: Yes, of course it’s in your honor. I saw the doubt cross your face. It’s for you, my Scaredy-Cat.

How in the hell did you manage that?

Spooky Boy: If that blew your mind, then you should hold on tight

I giggle, my mind immediately reciting the spider monkey quote from Twilight. It’s probably at the forefront because it’s what I plan to binge when I get back to my room.