Page 5 of Halloween Hottie
I shake the thoughts from my head and push away from my desk, heading for the stairs that will take me home. I walk into my apartment and grab a beer from the fridge before tossing a frozen pizza into the oven for dinner. I take a long drink before going to the closet to dig out my stupid Halloween costume. I throw it in the wash to get out the wrinkles and the smell of stale booze, and go to the couch where I stay until I’m ready to call it a night.
Chapter Three
ELIZABETH
Iwake up Saturday morning and go through my usual routine. I brew some coffee and drink a cup on the couch until I go take a shower. Feeling clean, I pull on fresh pajamas and get my second jolt back on the couch with a nice warm throw blanket, watching whatever I find on Netflix.
As I watch a show about magic, witches, and mystical creatures, I think about the party tonight. My costume came in yesterday, and I took it out of the bag and hung it on my closet door to release the wrinkles and air out that factory smell. I didn’t try it on, though. I’m still not sold on the idea of going. Not only do I not want to stand alone in a corner while everyone else pairs off and goes to spend their night on the dance floor, I also don’t want to risk running into Steve. Margo is a mutual friend, and I know she invited him. What if he shows up with a girl he’s dating, and I’m there alone?
Yep. It’s official. I’m not going.
With that settled, I decide to just have a nice, quiet Saturday. I clean the house, catch up on laundry, and pull out some fresh veggies to start a pot of soup for dinner. Fall is my favorite. I love warm, hearty soups, and just the smell of the stock has my mouth watering as I chop celery and carrots.
When everything is in the pot, I make some fresh coffee and go back to the couch where I can watch TV, lounge around, and nap. I binge an entire season of the magic show before lying across the cushions and falling asleep. I wake up an hour later, check on my soup, use the bathroom, and change over laundry before returning to the same spot. I pick up my phone out of boredom and scroll through my feed, finding pictures of all my friends getting ready for the Halloween party and starting their pre-game party. Everyone looks to be having fun as they do their hair, makeup, and snap selfies in their costumes.
I roll my eyes and toss the phone, wondering how I’m the only one who’s not having fun. I get up and fix myself a bowl of soup before returning to the couch to eat in comfort. I try to focus on the show while I eat, but instead I get distracted by the party, and the fact that I ordered that costume. It really is a cute costume. It’s a tight red dress—short, probably mid-thigh. It’s long-sleeved but cut low, showing off a good amount of cleavage, and there’s a tail pinned to the butt and a headband with devil horns. I can even picture the way I’d style my hair and do my makeup. Obviously, I’d have to do a dark smoky eye and paint my lips bright red.
Eight o’clock rolls around, and I think,That’s it, the party has officially started, and I’m not there. It’s too late to go now.
My mind should quiet, but it doesn’t. That costume is driving me crazy. Maybe all I need to do is put it on to make this annoying voice shut up. I place my bowl in the sink and go to my room to try on the costume. I hope and pray that it looks horrible on me. No costume, no party.
But the costume doesn’t look horrible. In fact, it looks good. It’s tight and shows off all my curves. It’s short and shows plenty of leg. I even have the perfect pair of thigh-high boots to wear with it. I get them from the closet and pull them on. I’m having so much fun that I decide to sit and do my hair and makeup just for kicks—I’m not going, the decision has been made, but I at least want the fun of getting ready and putting it all together. So I sit at my vanity and start styling my long, dark hair.
I curl it and leave it in long ringlets that nearly reach my ass. Then I add in some root lift and tease it up, giving it a lot of sultry volume. I start with my makeup, contouring my cheekbones and highlighting the tip of my nose. I do the smoky eyeshadow I planned earlier and add some thick false lashes. The finishing touch is the lipstick. I stand and take a look at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on my closet door. The tail is cute, and I wiggle my hips a little to make it shake. My hair is teased up so I can’t see the band on the horns. They look like they’re really growing out of my head. I look cute and sexy—but I’m not going.
I walk to the kitchen and grab a beer out of the fridge. I pop the top and take a drink. It goes down way too smoothly, and I take another. Maybe Steve won’t be there. Or maybe he’ll be there alone. If he’s alone, we’ll be on the same playing field. Only I look hot, and I know how badly that will piss him off. It would be like showing him everything he lost. He could be going home with me tonight, but instead he insisted on lying about every little thing until he ruined what we had. It would be fun to rub it in his face one more time. Maybe I should go to the party.
No, it’s too late. I already decided. I take my beer back to the couch and have a seat, still in my costume. It would be a waste to do all of this for nothing though. But what if Steve is there and he has a date? She’d probably look better anyway. What would I even say to him? It’s been months since we’ve bumped into one another.
I imagine a hundred different scenarios and a hundred different outcomes. Most of them come out in my favor and that makes me want to go. But a few end with me embarrassed and ready to rush home. Those make me want to stay right where I am.
My phone begins ringing, and I pick it up to see Margo’s face on the screen.
“Hello?’ I answer.
“Where are you?” she asks with loud music in the background.
“I’m sick,” I lie.
“Liar! Get your ass over here!”
I let out a long breath. “I don’t want to bump into Steve. Or worse—Steve and whatever girl he’s dating.”
I can practically hear her eyes roll. “Steve isn’t dating anyone, Liz. And yes, I invited him. I had to, but he said he might not be able to make it, and I haven’t seen him yet, so… there’s a good chance you won’t bump into him.”
“Are you sure, or are you just lying to get me over there?”
“I swear. You’re both my friends, and I hate that I’m always stuck in the middle, but I want to hang out. You’re always so busy. Come over. Please?”
I roll my eyes. “Fine,” I agree.
“Yay! See you soon.”
“Bye,” I say, hanging up the phone.
I take a deep breath and another swig of beer, wanting to kill all the nervousness I’m feeling. What’s the worst that could happen? I could actually have fun. I’m only twenty-six, but you’d think I was fifty with as little as I go out. I’ve never been much of a fan of drinking. Sure, I enjoy a drink here and there, but going out and getting wasted, grinding on some stranger in a bar, being hungover—that’s not my jam.
I finish my beer, and it’s doing its job. I’m no longer stressing over this party, and I’m rather bored from my quiet day at home. I stand from the couch, grab my things, and head out. I stop in town and fill up my gas tank before starting for Margo’s.
