Page 65 of A Very No Strings Halloween
“No, I’m definitely not up for it.” He’s just being polite. Or he just wants me to go with him to give him tips on how to pick up other women. “But…you should definitely go.”
“Oh.” He looks surprised and disappointed.
It almost makes me shut up. But I don’t. “I mean, it’s almost November. When’s your grandma’s birthday party? You need to win that bet. Right? You need a real girlfriend.”
He stares at me, blinks once. “Right. I do.”
I reach out to punch his arm. “Congratulations—you’re ready to date for real. I hereby pronounce you a graduate of the Donna Fischer Dating School. You get an A-plus, kid.” I try not to let my voice crack too much by adding, “Whoever ends up being your girlfriend is going to be a really lucky lady.” I pat his arm because I don’t seem to want to stop touching him.
“Right.” His voice has gone so cold.
I shiver.
“’Kay,” he says. “Well, happy Halloween if I don’t see you tomorrow, then.”
“Happy Halloween,” I say.
And then I close the door.
FIFTEEN
Billy
BILLY BOSTON AND THE SOURCE OF HIS STONES
“What’s with the Harry Potter costume? Didn’t you wear that, like, a decade ago?” Murph asks as we enter the party.
I am, indeed, dressed as sexy Harry Potter. The costume is not cut in some weird way to make it sexy, it’s just a normal black robe, black-rimmed glasses, and wand. I just can’t stop how sexy I am while wearing it. But Murph is right—this is a really old costume. I couldn’t completely remove the butt Donna drew on my forehead, so I’m saying it’s a lightning-bolt scar.
Of course the true reason I’m wearing a decade-old costume is that I couldn’t really care less about this party.
“It’s retro,” I say in a half-hearted attempt to defend it.
“Well, you look like you’re Harry Potter from the unreleased bookHarry Potter and the Saddest Sack of Shit.”
Oh, is my face doing what my soul is feeling? Whoops.
The music kicks into another gear, and I don’t feel a need to respond. The party is at an abandoned building in the Fort Point district.
Just as a wine expert—or sommelier, if you’re fancy—can smell and swish and taste all kinds of notes in a single mouthful of wine, I’m like that with parties. I don’t need to experience the entire evening to know what’s up. A few seconds of sampling the vibe and I know the vintage of a soiree.
I’m a soiree-lier, if you will, and my expert opinion is that this is going to be a great fucking night. The vibe, the energy, the lighting, the costumes, the exact note of the drone of people talking all around me. All of that tells me it is going to be one of those epic nights. Like Las Vegas 2012 or Tampa Bay 2019. Halloween de Boston ’24 could be a very fine vintage indeed.
And I could give a fuck.
It ain’t what I want. But this is what I need. I need to get back to being Billy. Billy is fun. He’s a party. He’s not a guy you date. And certainly not a guy you marry.
I’m a little shell-shocked by what happened with Donna. I’ve never felt closer to another person.Coming inside her after our epic night together felt right. It felt like coming home.
I keep going over it in my head. Turning it into a role-play—was that not the right thing to do? I did it for her. I thought she’d feel what I was feeling and get scared. I didn’t want her to run away.
Instead she pushedmeaway. Pushed me here to a party I don’t want to be at to find a date for a bet I don’t even care about winning anymore.
“Oh, hey, Becky-Ann!” Murph says, trying to sound so chill that I know he’s into her. I look up and see two women coming toward us. One is dressed like a sexy French maid. The other is dressed as a sexy nurse. Their makeup is caked on so thick you could see it from the moon, and if I had to guess, it’s probably not only like that on Halloween.
“Heeeeeey, Murphy,” Becky-Ann, the one in the maid costume, coos, throwing her arms around my buddy. “Good to see ya!”
Murphy ends their hug but keeps one hand on her hip as he turns to introduce me. “This is my friend, Billy O’Sullivan.”
