Page 1 of Bewitched By the Mountain Man
1
TESSA
The empty Ben & Jerry's containers have multiplied like rabbits around my bed. I've lost count, maybe five? Six? The Chunky Monkey tub sits accusingly on my nightstand, a spoon still stuck in the remnants of banana mush. I pull the duvet higher over my head, cocooning myself in this fortress of misery and ice cream-induced regret.
The apartment door crashes open.
"Absolutely not." Madison's voice cuts through my darkness before she rips the covers off me. Light assaults my eyes. "Nope. We're done with this."
I grab for the duvet, but she's already balling it up and tossing it across the room. "Mad, please. I'm in mourning.”
"You're in a sugar coma." She surveys the carnage around my bed. Tissues, empty containers, my phone face-down because I can't stop myself from checking his Instagram. "And you're mourning a certified asshole who dumped you via text and started dating Vanessa two days later."
The mention of Vanessa, my former friend, makes my stomach clench. "Three days later."
"Oh, excuse me. Three whole days. What a respectful mourning period." Madison perches on the edge of my bed, her expression softening. "Tessa, babe. It's been two weeks. You've consumed enough dairy to supply a small nation. And it's Halloween."
"I'm aware what day it is."
"Good. Then you're aware that you need to get your ass up, shower—seriously, shower—and come out with me tonight."
I burrow deeper into my pillows. "I'm not going to some bar to watch drunk people in sexy nurse costumes."
"Not a bar." Madison's eyes gleam. "A club. A very specific kind of club."
Despite myself, curiosity flickers. "What kind of club?"
"The kind you see in movies. Everyone wears masks. No names, no questions. You can be anyone you want. Do anything you want."
"That sounds... creepy."
"That's the fun part." She grins, then waves her hand dismissively when I open my mouth to protest. "Okay, okay. It's actually super safe. Strict rules. And you don't have to participate in anything. You can just watch. Have a drink, watch people be mysterious and sexy. Get your mind off that lying, cheating…"
"I get it." I sit up, my unwashed hair falling into my face. Because that's the thing about grief. Even when you know someone's an asshole, even when they've betrayed you in the worst way possible, it still hurts. It still feels like someone reached into your chest and carved out a piece of it.
But maybe Madison's right. Maybe sitting in my apartment, stalking my ex on Instagram, isn't the healthiest coping mechanism.
"Do I even have something to wear?" I ask.
Madison's face lights up like I've just agreed to rob a bank with her.
"Oh babe." She's already moving toward my closet. "You have that black dress. The one that made that bartender walk into a wall."
"That dress is basically lingerie."
"Exactly." She emerges with the dress, a scrap of black silk that leaves very little to the imagination. "And I have the perfect mask to go with it."
Two hours later,I'm standing outside a building that looks like it should be condemned. The address Madison gave me led us down progressively sketchier streets until we ended up here, in front of a black metal door with no sign, no bouncer, nothing to indicate there's a club inside.
"Mad, I think we’ve got the wrong address."
The door opens. A woman in an ornate gold mask welcomes us inside without a word.
We descend stairs that seem to go on forever, the bass of music growing stronger with each step. My mask, a delicate silver thing that covers the upper half of my face, already feels strange, like I'm cosplaying someone else.
Maybe that's the point.
The hallway opens into a vast space and my heart skips. The club is massive, with industrial exposed brick and chandeliers that cast light across the bodies. Everyone wears masks. Elaborate ones, simple ones, masks made of leather and lace and metal.
