Page 141 of Falling for You
‘No, you’re not.’
‘Comfort is key.’
‘Annie, if you don’t wear your costume I’ll be really upset,’ Tanya says. ‘And actually, we won’t go to the ball.’
She folds her arms triumphantly and I resist the urge to point out that this would work in my favour, as I’d much rather stay in and throw our annual Halloween party like we normally do.
‘Okay, fine,’ I say, giving in to their intense stares. ‘I’ll wear it.’
‘Yay!’ Tanya claps her hands again. ‘Now, who wants a biscuit?’
I nod and get to my feet, my costume suddenly feeling hot and a bit too tight around my body. The bodice feels itchy and the trousers, which a moment ago felt loose and freeing, now feel as though they’re gripping my thighs and splitting at the seams.
I shut the door to my bedroom and carefully peel thecostume off and step into my normal clothes: baggy trousers and an oversized hoodie. To my annoyance, I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes again. I blink them away crossly.
‘For goodness’ sake, Annie,’ I say to myself, turning to look at myself in the mirror. ‘Just because they don’t want to go in fancy dress it doesn’t mean you have to have a meltdown. It’s no big deal! It’s just one night of the year! Get over yourself.’
But I somehow can’t shake this cold feeling in my gut that this is about more than a Halloween costume. It’s the first time they’ve both gone along with the grain and I’ve been left to be the odd one out. We’re usually the odd ones out together.
It’s not very fun being the odd one out when you’re alone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nate
I take a swig of my beer, feeling a stab of annoyance as the mask itches my nose. Like it does every time I move my face in any way whatsoever. Stevie wrangled me into this mask in the cab ride over. It’s a cheap thing, made of some form of fake silk. You know, the kind that crackles with electricity and will no doubt give me an electric shock or turn me into a superhero if I don’t pick my feet up properly when walking on any carpet. I tried taking it off the moment we got here, but there was a guy on the door making sure everyone had their masks on.
I did wonder for a second if Stevie had booked me into some sort of sex party. I know I’ve told him I’d like to meet someone, but Jesus, that would be some level to go to just to help me out with some matchmaking.
We’re now standing at the bar, both swigging beer. The ball is set up on the top floor of the hotel, which is sandwiched behind a load of clubs in Soho. All the walls are decorated with blood-red drapes and the tablecloths are sleek and pearly with mountains of decorations. Milling around the floor are the other guests, standing in groups and delicatelysipping from champagne flutes. Unlike me and Stevie with our cheap, static masks, their masks are crafted to their faces, curling around their eyes and made from a sturdy, customised plastic. The room is pretty full, and each person looks more expensive and important than the last. I’m amazed we got in so easily. Sweeping across the floor are various wait staff, all dressed in smart trousers and waistcoats with fake knives sticking out the back of their necks. Their not-so-subtle nod to Halloween.
But it’s the performers who are the most eye-catching. They’re towering over the crowd of guests in stilts, some bent in two with a set on their arms and their legs, dressed in incredible jet-black catsuits. Their stilts are covered by huge streams of fabric, and their heads are entirely covered in masks. They look like some form of megaspecies that’s the product of a bat mating with a giraffe.
‘Do you reckon you could do that?’ I ask Stevie.
‘What?’
I nod to one of the performers who prowls past us both.
Stevie watches them. ‘I can walk very well in heels.’
‘I know.’ I take another swig of my drink.
‘We’re going to have to dance soon, you know.’ Stevie raises his eyebrows at me and I huff into my beer bottle.
‘I hate dancing.’
‘I know. Sadly I was the only one to be gifted in that department.’
I shoot him a look.
Stevie wanted to arrive at the ball early to make sure that we got in okay. His dancer friend, Emmy, was on the door andwanted to sneak us in before anyone pulled out a guest list. I did ask Stevie why we’re here if we’re not on the guest list, but he lightly told me that the dancers knew that the event hadn’t sold out, so they all invited some mates to fill the place up a bit and enjoy the corporate life for once.
I can see what he means. Every waiter skimming past is carrying a tray topped with bubbling glasses of something expensive, or little canapés that seem to change with each circle of the room. We didn’t even have to pay for our beers. Stevie just took them from the bartender and turned away, almost expertly, and nobody said anything. I tried not to scoff in Stevie’s face and hand over my card, but he shot me a look which told me all I needed to know. It seems that everyone here is so rich that they don’t need to spend any money at all. Hey, maybe that’s how they all got so rich in the first place.
I give my mask a tug as a flock of women swan past us, all dressed in sleek gowns.
Earlier today, I looked up Aunt Tell’s address on Google after Stevie left the flat to ‘go out’ and I worked out my route to get to her house in Epping tomorrow.
