Page 22 of Someday Away

“Wait, so you never had sex with Matt? He wasn’t your first? But you’re not a virgin?”

“Nope,” I say. “Someone else took my virginity.” I smirk. “But that’s a story for another night. With lots of alcohol.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHARLIE

“So what’re you going to be for Halloween this year?” Fiona asks as we walk toward the elevator.

After a couple weeks of training with John, Fiona and I have our first shift at the movie theater today. We spent the past weekend shopping because he requested the dress code be slacks and button-ups, but I own mostly street clothes.

“A hard-working college student?” I quip.

I nervously smooth invisible wrinkles from my white dress shirt. I hate ponytails, so I tied my hair into a loose fishtail braid that trails down my back. I went with natural makeup with slightly heavier eyeliner to look a bit more professional.

She rolls her eyes. “How about asluttyhard-working college student?”

“Okay, yeah, sure,” I laugh, pushing her shoulder. “Is Halloween a big deal around here?”

“Oh yeah.” Fiona nods. “Have you seen that cemetery at the end of Main Street?”

I stop and turn to look at her. “You guys party on Halloween in anactualcemetery?”

She grins widely.

“That’s creepy as fuck,” I exclaim, though I’m actually a bit excited at the prospect.

Growing up, I loved Halloween, and as I got older, I became a self-proclaimed basic bitch. Every year on the first day of October, I put on my boots and a cozy hoodie and helped my mom decorate our house from top to bottom, and I loved pumpkin everything—even the overhyped Pumpkin Spice Latte.

I still love all those things. But the last couple of years have been rough. My mom passed in late September just after my senior year started, and by the time Halloween rolled around that year, I was dealing with the fallout of my stepdad leaving. The next Halloween, I was completely alone. So instead of enjoying the fall leaves and apple cider, during the last two autumns, I listened to the never-ending rain hammering on the roof of our garage while I tried to drown out my own dark thoughts with the constant white noise.

Maybe this Halloween will be better. Famous last words.

The morning is clear (for once) and chilly as we make our way down Main Street to the theater. Lakeside, Washington, is an isolated town that was built around Whitmore U when it opened in the 1800s so that the students had resources nearby. The closest big cities are Seattle, which is two hours south, and Vancouver, British Columbia, which is just over an hour north, across the Canadian border. I’m from Brighton, a small town about an hour-long drive from campus, and Lakeside gives me similar small-town vibes. Everything you'd ever need that isn’t on campus is on Main Street: coffee shops, bars, a grocery store, and now the reopened Lakeside Cinema.

The building was constructed with classic red brick, and John cleaned up the white marquis, which currently readsHalloween,The Shining, andPet Semetary. I guess the new manager liked the idea of the theater featuring horror movieswith the grand opening being in October. And speaking of the new manager, we still haven’t met him.

We enter the lobby, reveling in the rush of warmth, but I stop short when I see Lincoln and Trey leaning against the concession stand bar, talking in hushed tones. Fiona runs straight into my back, and I stumble forward, dropping my phone, which bounces across the garish carpet and slides to a stop in front of Lincoln’s shiny black shoes.

“Sorry,” Fi mumbles. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Link and Trey stop talking, and Link watches as I step forward and bend to retrieve my phone.

When I stand, we’re practically toe-to-toe—way too close for comfort. My breath stutters.

Lincoln is dressed to perfection in a black button-up shirt with a gray tie—the same shade as his steel eyes—and dark slacks. His expression is cold, and his jawline and eyebrows are all angles except for the curve of his full lips. His hair falls in a sexy, haphazard way across his forehead—the only part of his carefully controlled appearance that seems chaotic.

A chill runs through me as our eyes meet. Lincoln gives me a cruel smirk, and I frown in confusion.

What the heck is he doing here?

“If you want to actually work here, I hope you’re going to drop the Wednesday Addams attitude for the customers, Sunshine,” he says, standing up to his full height.

This guy.

“You’re one to talk,” I snap back. “You’re about as broody as aTwilightvamp. Don’t tell me you work here, too.”

His lips curve up in response.

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