Page 47 of His Sound
“In the storage room,” Matt answers. “He’s being a little bitch about getting his costume just right. You know he goes all out for Halloween. I should probably go check on him. He told me it involves fire, and knowing him, he probably meant actual flames.”
He leaves to navigate his way across the dance floor, and I spot Dario flagging me down from beside the beer pile.
“I should probably say hi to my coworkers,” I tell the group.
They wave me off, and I mentally congratulate myself on having a not morbidly embarrassing conversation with most of the members of Sherbrooke Station.
“Noelle!” Dario shouts over the music, once I’ve joined him. “That’s choice!”
“And what are you supposed to be?”
He’s wearing a Dracula cape, fake fangs, and a t-shirt that has the word ‘Saturday’ printed across it.
“It only makes sense if you see Patrick too,” he explains, and then cups his hands over his mouth to shout, “Patrick! Get the fuck over here!”
Patrick shuffles his way off the dance floor and shows up wearing the same thing, only his t-shirt says ‘Sunday.’ I think for a moment, and then it hits me.
“Vampire Weekend!” I shake my head, laughing. “God, we’re all such nerds.”
Patrick puts his hands on his hips, pretending to be offended. “I think we’re pretty fucking witty.”
“You want a beer?” Dario asks me.
I’m not much of a drinker, but I indulge on occasion, and thisisa Halloween party. I nod. Dario hands me a can of Coors.
“Hey look, it’s your little lovebird!” he exclaims, just as I’m taking my first sip.
I swallow the bitter liquid down and turn to see Paul walking through the front door—although stumbling would be a more accurate term. He’s still several feet away and I can tell he’s drunk. He’s got that whole squinty-eyed stare going on. He turns it on me and breaks out into a lopsided smile.
“Molly!” he shouts, coming over to join us. “Hey, Molly! Sorry I’m late.”
“It’s okay.” I smirk at him. “You look like you were enjoying yourself.”
“Yeah, got a little carried away with the guys. Your costume looks good.”
He scans me over, but I’m not sure if he actually gets the joke. His own outfit is more obvious. He’s wearing a shimmery, 1970s style shirt with a smudged Ziggy Stardust lightning bolt painted on his face.
“And you’re already drinking!” he exclaims. “Let’s get this party started, eh? You mind if I grab one of those?”
He nods at Dario, who’s leaning against the stacks of beer cases.
Dario narrows his eyes. “Why don’t you lovebirds go dance for a bit? You don’t want to miss ‘Zombie’ do you?”
The Cranberries are blasting on the speakers. I take Dario’s hint and lead Paul away from the beer. The second we’re on the dance floor, his hand slides down to rest at the top of my ass.
“You really do look good,” he whispers next to my ear, his breath hot on my neck. “I’ve been thinking about you all night.”
I pull away a few inches.
“You sure that’s not the beer talking?” I joke.
He just moves his hand a fraction lower. “I think we’re gonna have fun tonight.”
The smell of beer on his breath sticks in my nose. The ‘Sorry’ girls are beside us now, screaming out the lyrics like their lives depend on it, and I jump on the distraction. I twist in Paul’s grip and join in with them, putting some distance between the two of us as we get swallowed up by the group.
I decide that even with an inebriated Paul to handle, Iamgoing to have fun tonight. I’m going to dance and sing and drink beer with my friends, and nothing is going to ruin it for me.
