Page 56 of Haunt the Mall

Good Luck

Anticipation for our haunted house date–and a suitable place to fuck–bubbled up to the surface on the actual day. We’d been texting and talking, but I still didn’t know what either of us wanted besides a good time. I dangled my hosiery options at Jinx. “What do you think? Socks or tights?”

He batted at the thigh-highs in my left hand.

“Thigh-highs? Good idea.” I sat on the bed and wrangled them on, my cat wiggling nearby as if ready to battle with their floppy ends if they turned on me.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Was Victor here early? I leaped across the bed–earning a disgruntled yelp from Jinx–to check the notification.

What a sweetheart. I smiled and shot her a text while stroking Jinx to appease him.

I sent her a mirror selfie with my hand in a rock-on pose to show off my outfit: a form-fitting tank dress with a rib cage painted on the front, black fingerless gloves, and matching thigh-high socks with heart-eye skulls on them.

She called me within seconds. “You can’t wear that; you’ll freeze to death.”

Well, Jinx approved of it, I almost joked. “It’s not going to be that cold. My arms are half-covered, and my legs more than that. Plus, I have shorts underneath. Want me to send you an upskirt shot to prove it?”

“No,” she said, aghast. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

I curled my toes. “Yeah. If things get too cold, Victor could always warm me up.”

“Don’t be gross,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. “Such an innocent. Well, I should go. He’s going to pull up any second.”

“You’re letting him drive?” she asked, her tone steeped in disbelief.

Yikes. Maybe I should’ve left that out of tonight’s updates. “Listen, I know it’s kinda murder bait not to drive myself on a second date. But in the age of taxi apps and location-sharing, I trust Victor not to dump me at the haunted house, and I trust myself to be able to find a way home should something happen. If all else fails, I’ll call my smart, amazing sister for an exit plan.”

“Kat,” she chided, but I caught the reluctant pride in her voice.

Hopefully, humoring her meant she wouldn’t worry (or tattle) to our parents.

I twisted the black cord of my cross necklace around my fingers. “Can you have a little faith this won’t be a total disaster? You already met him. You know where he works. Plus, he put actual effort into planning something I’d enjoy. It’s been a while since a guy did that.”

“I guess,” she said.

“So protective,” I teased. “Some guy has to be good enough for us, eventually. Don’t you think?”

Jinx’s ears perked up, and he focused on the window. A headlight glimmered through the crack between the curtains.

I dashed over to peek outside. A black car rolled into the complex’s parking lot. The driver fussed with his swooping, scythe-like bangs in the fold-down mirror. Aw, my man wanted to look good for me.

“He’s here.” I streaked across the room to grab my bag. “Oh, thank god he doesn’t have a BMW or something.”

“What does he have? A motorcycle?”

I loved the idea of my man in a long, leather coat, revving an engine via steel handlebars, but I didn’t have time to drool over the prospect. “I don’t know what it is. A Honda?”

“Oh, that sounds sensible. They have pretty good safety ratings,” Tori said.

“I’m just happy it means he’ll probably let me get in without having to wipe my feet.” I took a deep breath and stroked my cross. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” she said.

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