Page 4 of A Very Gay Halloween
Either way, I'm officially lost in Cooper's house of horrors, and the clock is ticking.
I quicken my pace, taking what I think is a shortcut toward where my final position should be. The corridor narrows, and the candles are spaced farther apart here, leaving pools of darkness between the weak circles of light. My footsteps echo off the plywood walls, mixing with the ambient sounds to create this whole symphony of creepy that's actually starting to get to me.
Which is ridiculous. I helped build half this shit. I know it's all fake blood and plastic bones and sound effects. But something about being alone in here, surrounded by shadows and props designed to fuck with people's heads, is making my skin crawl.
I turn another corner and find myself face-to-face with another dead end. This one's decorated like some kind of ritual chamber—candles arranged in a pentagram around a fake altar, complete with plastic skulls and what looks like a very realistic-looking knife.
The sound of footsteps behind me stops.
I spin around, but find nothing. Just darkness and the distant echo of the approaching group, their voices growing clearer as they get closer to whatever section they're in now.
My heart hammers against my ribs, which is fucking stupid because I know exactly who's been following me. There's only one person in this place who moves like a predator stalking his prey, who knows these corridors well enough to navigate them in complete silence.
"Coop?" I call out, keeping my voice low enough not to carry to the group.
Nothing.
The candles flicker in what might be a draft, or might be someone moving past them just out of sight. Shadows dance across the fake ritual setup, making the plastic skulls look like they're grinning wider.
I'm about to call out again when a figure emerges from the darkness behind me.
"Seriously? Again?"
I don't need to turn around to know who it is, but I do anyway, because apparently I enjoy torturing myself. Cooper stands there in his full grim reaper getup, scythe held casually in one hand like he's some kind of death god who just happened to be in the neighborhood.
His hood is up, casting most of his face in shadow, but I can see his eyes glinting in the candlelight. They look pissed, which is pretty much Cooper's default expression when it comes to me.
"I know where I'm going," I snap, even though we both know that's bullshit.
He takes a step closer, and I catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with the musty smell of the warehouse. "Yeah? Because this looks like the supply closet section to me."
I glance around at the ritual chamber setup, at the props I don't recognize, at the dead end that definitely wasn't on any of the maps Jason showed us during rehearsals.
"Maybe if your shitty map wasn't drawn by a five-year-old—"
"Don't blame the map because you can't follow basic fucking directions."
Heat flares up my spine, spreading across my shoulders like someone dumped gasoline on me and lit a match. I've been dealing with his condescending bullshit all night, and I'm done. Completely fucking done.
I take a step toward him, closing the distance between us until we're almost chest to chest. He's got maybe half an inch on me, which pisses me off even more because I have to tilt my head up to glare at him properly.
"You know what? I'm done with your shit. You've been on my ass all night like—"
"Like what? Like someone who actually gives a damn if this thing doesn't fall apart?"
"I didn't ask for your help. I didn't ask for any of this bullshit."
His eyes narrow, and I can see the muscle in his jaw ticking even in the dim candlelight. "Then why the fuck are you here?"
The question hits me wrong, like he's asking something deeper. Like he's asking why I'm here, in his space, in his life, making everything complicated when it could be simple.
"Because Jason asked me to, alright? Before you decided to take over and turn this into your personal—"
"My personal what?"
I stop myself before I say something I can't take back. Before I admit that watching him boss everyone around, watching him take charge like he belongs in that role, does something twisted to my insides that I don't want to examine too closely.
"Forget it."
