Page 95 of Something to Someone

And I didn’t fit in at all.

Still, Mr. Phantom had decided to initiate a conversation with me. The one half of his face I could see bore a sharp jawline covered in stubble, and his dark hair was messily tousled in that purposeful way some men pulled off effortlessly.

And beneath his tuxedo, I could tell he was built.

No matter the costume, I knew he was gorgeous. And fuck me, his laugh matched his voice—deep and soulful.

“You’re right, it is a little on the nose, although that wasn’t necessarily the reason,” he said with a smile. “Which one is your favorite?”

He motioned with his tumbler to the rest of the art I’d just viewed. I glanced around at each and carefully considered his question.

“This one,” I said, pointing to the one just to his left. It was of a woman and a man lying together. One of the woman’s legs tossed over the man’s, it was like we were a part of their intimate moment looking down their bodies at where they touched. “It feels…intimate, natural.”

He hummed, and I followed as he walked the few steps to the painting I’d mentioned.

“I like how they’ve painted her especially,” I continued, not sure if the next part was too personal a thought to share with a stranger, but for some reason, I felt compelled to share it anyway. “They didn’t try to hide what we’ve been conditioned to believe are her imperfections.”

I motioned to the curve of her stomach and the stretch marks on her inner thigh. One breast was subtly larger than the other, and her skin tone wasn’t completely even.

“But even with all those so-called imperfections, she’s still desired.”

A silence passed between us, and I took a long sip of my nearly empty drink, trying to fill the void. In the span of a second, I questioned everything I’d said, and if I’d shared too much.

Concerned that I’d put my foot in my mouth, I quickly said, “Or maybe it says something more about me that I picked out all those imperfections.” My laugh was hollow, but I was relieved when he shook his head and turned his half-smile on me.

His eyes were the color of the light emitted from sconces hanging around us—a warm amber.

“Then maybe it says something about me, too,” he admitted. “Because I noted those perceived imperfections. Although, to me, they’re anything but imperfect. They are often my favorite thing about a woman’s body.”

My mouth went dry, and I found it impossible to swallow. Silently, I wished I had more of my drink left or that it was socially acceptable for me to eat the ice left in the glass.

Although he wasn’t talking about my body, it reacted as if he had. And my reaction was only exacerbated by his long perusal of my body. His amber-colored eyes tracked down then back up, landing confidently on my face once again.

“They are everything that makes her…her.”

I was going to combust or erupt into flames. Either way, I had a feeling I would enjoy it if it involved Mr. Phantom.

“Would you like another drink, Bubbles?”

“Yeah, that would be—” I stopped and looked up at him, my confusion written all over my face.

“Bubbles?” I asked as we walked toward the bar.

He nodded. “That’s who you’re dressed as, right?”

We both set our empty glasses on the bar and ordered another round before I turned back to Mr. Phantom. “Yes, but I guess I’m just surprised you recognized it.”

“Why?” he asked with a tilt to his lips like he already knew my answer.

“Doesn’t seem like your type of TV show.”

He smiled, and I damned that freaking mask. I wanted to see it unobstructed and unbound. I wanted to know if he had a dimple on the right side that matched the left.

“I guess it wasn’t really,” he admitted as the bartender handed us our new drinks. “It came out when I was a teenager, so I wasn’t going to be caught dead watching a TV show about three kindergarten girls with superpowers.”

Math was not my forte, and I couldn’t remember the exact year the show had premiered, but based on my limited knowledge and even with my crappy math skills, I could guess that?—

“I can see you doing the math in your head,” Mr. Phantom said. And I shook my head, taking a long sip of my drink. It tasted even better the second time.

---