Page 59 of Make The Cut

“Spiderman? Really?That’syour costume?”

“I know, incredibly original. Who could’ve guessed? I would go as Shang Chi, but that seems a bit on the nose and I don’t have ten bracelets. Maybe nine. But definitely not ten.”

“I’ll show up dressed as something entirely different from MJ,” she promises.

“Can you wear your cowgirl boots?”

“Don’t go as a horse.”

“That would be a two-person costume. Unless you want to be the back end of a horse with me?”

“Now you’re pushing it.” I hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll come up with something.”

“You’re the fashion expert. Aren’t you supposed to have your outfits picked out a month in advance?”

“I was too busy running around town and doing errands for your ex,” she says.

“Stop calling her that.” Just the mention of Rose makes my head throb.

“What would you prefer that I call her Rose?”

“I’d prefer you don’t call her at all, but since that’s not possible, let’s just refer to her as a thorn,” I say.

“That was a horrible pun.” She groans. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight.” That should give us plenty of time to get to the party when it’s already in full swing. That way, no one will notice us or pay attention if we sneak off to do… well, I was just hoping we could make out in a corner the whole night.

When I pull up at her apartment an hour later, she’s wearing something I didn’t expect. Carrying a length of rope and donning a red wig with freckles painted on her cheeks, she’s wearing a cowgirl outfit. The boots that she wore when we first met cover her calves.

“Hi, cowgirl.”

She laughs. “Hey, Lucky.”

“I sure feel like the luckiest man alive to have you with me. Ready to go?” A dozen words spring to mind, half a dozen compliments I could give her about how good she looks or how I’m reconsidering going to any party at all when I could just stay home with her all night.

But a part of me wants to just be normal and go out in public with my girlfriend, even if we’re both in costume.

“Yeah. Just let me text Sasha that we’re on our way.” She pulls out her phone and starts typing.

“Sasha… I’ve met her before, right? She was at the watch party for the first episode ofMake The Cut.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you remember her,” Poppy slides her phone into a pocket of her denim jacket.

“I remember every moment with you, Red,” I say, and am rewarded with a faint blush beneath her painted-on freckles.

“Shut up,” she says, grinning as she smacks my arm.

I feign agony. “How can I drive? You’ve wounded me.”

I hold open the passenger door for her to get in.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” I shut the door and slide into my side of the car.

“Be a gentleman.”

“Red, I’ve always been a gentleman.”

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