Page 127 of Relationship Goals

I pull upto Abigail’s house, anticipation at seeing her making it hard to keep from grinning. My knuckles rap against her front door.

“Just a minute,” she calls from inside the house, and my fingers tighten on the bottle of wine and bag full of food.

It’s only been a few hours, and I already can’t wait to see her.

When she opens the door, though, I nearly drop everything in my hands.

“What thefuck?”

The thing in front of me grins wide, and I stare.

“You likes it, preciousss?” The freakish creature claps its hands, then cocks its head at me. “Did the nasty hobbitses bring us food?”

“Abigail?” My voice comes out strangled. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

She—because I’m fairly certain it is Abigail under that…mask, or makeup, or god knows—plucks the bag from my fingers.

“This is my kink.” She turns around, leaving me to gawp at her retreating back.

“What?” It seems to be the only word I’m capable of forming right now.

“Yeah. You’re into masturbating to Yo-Yo Ma and anaphylactic shock, and I’m into role-playing Gollum.”

“What? Why?” I ask, my voice high-pitched, and I’m not sure if I’m asking her, or me, or god himself. “None of those things are true in the slightest.”

“Is this going to be a problem?” Abigail turns slowly on her heel, pure sugar in each syllable. “This is who I am, Luke. Take it or leave it.” She blinks slowly, the effect exponentially creepier in that makeup.

I suppress a shudder.

“If you do decide to leave it”—she takes a crouched step closer to me, animalistic—“I get to keep the food you brought.”

The unexpected comment startles a laugh out of me, and for a second, I see the real Abigail under the special effects makeup, her smile shining through. It’s gone before I can truly appreciate it, though, but I hug her to me regardless, the paper sack full of food crunching in between our bodies.

She’s stiff, holding herself apart from me—and that, more than her bizarre appearance, worries me.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” My brow cinches together as I study her.

Or, at least, attempt to study her, considering her true features are nearly completely obscured from view.

“Oh, ah, I just didn’t want to get my makeup on you,” she says. “It would be sad to ruin it before we even get started.”

“That’s ominous.” My snort surprises us both.

For a half second, I swear I see her eyes light up, but then she’s scurrying off to the kitchen. My feet follow her almost of their own accord, as if they can’t stand the idea of being away from her any longer.

An electric thrum of excitement goes through me as I enter her kitchen. Not because I’m hungry.

This place, the heart of her home, will forever hold the memory of the night I kissed her for the first time.

Even if she’s dressed up like some kind of freaky goblin.

“What, exactly, are you supposed to be?” I ask.

Her jaw drops, and I grimace at the effect.

“What do you mean, what am I supposed to be? I’m supposed to be Gollum, played by the ineffable and brilliant Andy Serkis.” Abigail hands me a plate, then starts pulling containers out of the bag.

“Right.” My lips scrunch to the side.

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