Page 48 of David's Love

Dolled up in Halloween costumes––she wears a witch costume, which is comprised of a short black dress, a sizable wand, and a pointed hat, and I rock a Viking warrior costume with a tiny plastic sword attached to my belt, a corset top, a short skirt with lace-up details, and a hat with horns––we ride in the back of a limousine.

We both agreed we needed to arrive in style.

So, I’m clearing my throat and giving her a side-eyed glance, trying to figure out her mood.

She sits in her corner, her eyes on the dark view outside.

Yeah, this is probably not the best moment to tell her I can’t make it.

So what should I do?

Her party is tomorrow evening, and I’m supposed to be on a flight to New York tomorrow afternoon.

I open my mouth to speak when her phone buzzes in her hand.

She tips her gaze, her eyebrows shoot up, and a frown forms across her brow.

Her lips pucker with displeasure.

She doesn’t answer, flips her phone over, drops her hand to her side, and stares out the window again.

Her phone pings two more times before straight out ringing.

She doesn’t flinch.

That’s not good.

And there’s no point in telling her I’ll be a no show tomorrow night, ruining her evening even more.

Hopefully, I’ll come up with an excuse before I leave tomorrow afternoon.

We roll through the gates, and my focus moves to the trees adorned with strings of lights.

Eerie ghosts dangle from their branches, dancing in the wind, while giant spiders, skeletons, and jack o’ lanterns litter both sides of the road.

“Look at that…” I murmur, fascinated with the view.

“It’s pretty,” she says, sunk in thought.

Silence envelopes her last words before we arrive at Rain’s house.

Spider cobs, more lights, and cauldrons overflowing with candy greet us when we step out of the car and head to the entrance.

More guests must be nearby as voices ring inside the house. The housekeeper greets us and shows us around.

And what I’m seeing next is not what I expected.

Lavishly decorated rooms crammed with people. Mostly adults. Some have their children with them. Some are single like us.

Everybody wears a costume, which makes it difficult to know who is who.

“Oh, man. Did you know it would be like this?” Chloe slips under her breath.

“I had no idea,” I utter, barely moving my lips.

“Fuck. Who are these people?” she asks quietly, glancing around the house.

“Guests, I guess?”

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