Chapter Six

When fall break ends, campus explodes with energy, and focus shifts to Halloween weekend. Suddenly all anyone can talk about is costumes, parties, and, most "importantly," the Greek Row haunted house competition.

My Halloween plans consist mostly of my bed and movies so scary, I'll have to watch through my fingers. Maybe talking to Hayes. We finished fall break with an endless scroll of messages between us, eventually shifting from "would you rather" to favorite anything. I couldn't tell you his favorite movie or what music he likes, but I know his favorite vegetable is asparagus, his favorite Olympic sport is swimming, and his favorite ride at Cedar Point is Blue Streak (for the best Cedar Point souvenir: whiplash, he said when he answered).

So you can imagine my surprise to find myself on Greek Row, dressed like a sad birthday girl in a costume cobbled together by Dara using scraps of whatever she could find—a birthday sash borrowed from a girl down the hall and a party hat from the pack Madison used for the Trolls costume she did with her church group. Mascara is tracked down my face like I've been crying.

It wouldn't have taken much convincing for me to give up my non-plans for actual human interaction, but Dara still begged me to come. Apparently her friends Yasmin and Kayla are, in fact, dating now, and she didn't want to third-wheel. Because according to her, Halloween is a romantic holiday—even though her friends didn't do a couple costume. Instead, all three of them are dressed like Black Disney characters created before any of us were born—Yasmin as Larry Houdini from Don't Look Under the Bed, Kayla as Penny Proud from The Proud Family, and Dara as Nebula from Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century.

Kayla and Yasmin are easy to be around—the type of people who treat you like a friend they've known forever, even when you've met only a handful of times. They fold me into their group without hesitation.

"Which house do you think is the most unsettling?" Yasmin asks as we make our way from a sorority where the haunted house was a timed maze, and you only won candy if you made it through in under ten minutes. "Like, haunted house aside, I would not go in either way?"

I pop a piece of banana taffy into my mouth. "All of them."

Dara snorts, leaning around me to say to her friends, "Wyn is very anti-Greek."

"That's not true. I read the whole Percy Jackson series, like, six times."

Kayla and Yasmin blink at me, like twin owls.

"If you don't understand her jokes, don't beat yourself up about it," Dara says to them. "It's kind of the Wyn experience."

I frown, and it deepens as Dara and her friends make a turn up to the next house. We've been sticking to the sororities, but now we're standing in front of Tau Delta Pi, which, according to Kayla, has been lauded by Two Minute News's Halloween update as the haunted house to see. At the front door, a tall guy in an LED mask with a big, scary smile and oversized round eyes monitors the line, letting groups through in intervals.

Inside, someone screams. I jump, bumping Kayla, and nearly choke on the banana taffy. I swallow it quickly, forcing it down my dry throat.

"Are you nervous?" Yasmin asks with a laugh.

"I'm fine," I lie. The truth is, I'm not good with scary stuff. The first three houses were tolerable, because they felt fake and harmless. But when we step through the front door of the Tau Delt house, it's pitch-black inside.

"Oh, I hate this," Kayla murmurs, and I think she's reaching for Yasmin's hand, but she gets mine instead.

We're two steps in when a mask lights up beside me, so close that I scream. The guy wearing it laughs.

Kayla squeezes my hand, inching closer. I use my free hand to feel across the wall until I find a door.

"Through?" Dara whispers.

"Through," a deep voice says from behind us.

The four of us shriek—even Yasmin, who swore when we started this night that she's not scared of anything. But when we rush through the door, I'm the last one into the next room, and my sash gets stuck on the doorknob. In the extra few seconds it takes me to unhook myself, I realize I've been deserted.

The door slams shut behind me.

The next room is big, and even though I can see enough to make my way through, there are two curtain-covered doorways to choose from. I have no idea which one the others just disappeared through.

A sound plays—a cackle, followed by a low siren—and masks start to light around the room: three, then seven, until I lose count. I'm frozen in place until I realize they're only hung on the walls, not worn by anyone.

As soon as I have the thought, one breaks from the wall and charges at me. I scream, sprinting for the next doorway and barreling through the curtain. My party hat is knocked askew, and I tear it off, crumpling it in my hand.

In the hall, Christmas lights flash on and off, briefly illuminating everything. Music starts playing—a garbled, demonic remix of "Sleigh Ride." Then a door opens, and a huge guy walks out in an LED Santa mask, dragging a body bag behind him.

I rush through the next doorway and into another dark room. The hall was so bright, my eyes need to readjust again, and I realize that's the point—they don't want us to be able to see too well.

What a nightmare.

In the kitchen, I'm harassed by two more masked guys, who chase me toward a staircase that takes me up to the second floor. As I make it to the top, I hear Dara yelp somewhere in the distance.

Getting close.

I pause to gauge whether I heard Dara from the right or left. I make a right, going with my gut. At the end of the hall, the next turn is blocked with furniture. I reach for the only door, but the knob is locked.

I whip around at a noise behind me. A figure turns the corner, carrying a baseball bat wrapped in LED barbed wire and wearing a mask with an eye patch made from three vertical lines. He whistles as he twirls the bat around in a lazy circle.

I try the door again, jiggling the knob hard. Then I give up, twisting into the dark corner, and put on the calmest voice I can muster.

"This is kind of cheesy."

The guy stops, the bat falling limp at his side. Then he laughs. "You would be the one to make this as little fun as possible."

My heart gives a jolt of recognition. "Seriously? Isn't that eye patch a little on the nose?"

Three pushes his mask up, his grin lit by the orange glow of the barbed wire. "It spoke to me."

"I'm sure it did. God, get a personality or something." I move to pass him, but he steps into my way, leaning an arm against the wall. When I try the other direction, he shifts, putting the bat out to trap me.

I glare at him, pressing back into the corner. "You're not allowed to touch me," I hiss. "I read the rules."

Three tosses his head back and laughs. "Touch you? Is that what you've been dreaming about, ogling my nudes every night before bed? You wish, Evans."

"I did not—I did not steal—" I splutter, rage curling my hands into fists. I blow out a harsh breath, straightening my shoulders. "You know, you're pretty obsessed with the idea of me having your nudes. Is that what you're into? Thinking about me, looking at you?"

It should have an ice bucket effect. Maybe he'll stop saying it if he thinks I might get the wrong idea.

Which is why I'm so surprised when his eyes narrow, and he ducks his head closer to murmur, "Maybe it is."

My heart lurches up into my throat, and my skin goes so hot, I'm afraid I might actually combust. Especially when his gaze drops—and I swear, I swear I'm not imagining that he's looking at my mouth.

The door to my left swings open suddenly, and someone yells. I scream, lunging forward, and smack straight into Three.

"Jesus—fuck—Kelly! What the hell?" Three snaps.

"Sorry," the other guy says, laughing. He sounds the least sorry I've ever heard someone sound in my life. "She wasn't moving, and someone else is coming."

I'm too distracted to absorb anything else, because I'm suddenly aware that I'm touching Three in many places—my hands fisted in his shirt, his arm caught around my shoulders, my thigh pressed between his. He's incredibly warm, and he smells so good….

I shove him away hard enough that he drops the bat. It hits the rug with a thud that shatters the moment. With the orange glow gone, I can't read Three's expression. He pulls his mask back down, ensuring I never will.

He grabs the fallen bat and prods it into my back, urging me toward the opposite end of the hall. "Don't make me chase you."

I can't form a single coherent thought as I dash for the exit.

The rest of the haunted house passes in a blur, my brain caught up on the second floor, replaying those few seconds over and over again. I can practically still feel his arm around me, and the peppery, woodsy scent of him is fresh in my nose.

I'm still thinking about him long after I've caught up with Dara, Kayla, and Yasmin and we've navigated our way out. Even once we're clear of the house, my racing heart shows no signs of slowing, and I break off from our group before our next destination, begging exhaustion. Their protests that I stay feel nice, but I want to go home and sleep off this entire night.

Maybe I'm touch-starved—and truthfully, that is definitely the explanation—but coming in such close contact with Three, and those few seconds just before, has me feeling… a lot of things.

"No, no, stop it," I whisper to myself, smacking my cheeks hard as I make my way back to my dorm. He's the enemy.

I'm just lonely, that's it. College hasn't been the social extravaganza I expected, and I read romance webcomics every night before bed. I can admit I thought Three was cute when we first met. So it makes sense—perfect sense—that I spend my entire twelve-minute walk home imagining what it'd feel like to kiss him.

I take a long shower as soon as I get inside, then climb into bed in my fuzzy robe. I'm still burning hot and restless, but I can't do anything about it—not when Ellie could walk in at any moment, and not with Three's face lit by the orange glow of that bat so fresh in my mind.

I slide down in bed, pulling my blanket up over my head. I need something to distract me. Something anti-Three.

Hayes instantly comes to mind. A calming presence. The opposite of everything Three makes me feel.

pomerene1765:let me guess. your alter ego won and you dressed as one of the outsiders for halloween

pomerene1765:living out your bad boy dreams one costume at a time

pomerene1765: probably sodapop. tell me I'm right. you have sodapop energy.

But he doesn't respond. Not in the hour and a half it takes me to fall asleep. And not by the time I wake the next morning, sweating and breathing heavily. I'm half out of my pajama top, and my bottoms are twisted up. My face is mashed into my pillow, both of my hands fisted in it. I can still feel the burn of hot palms on my hips, can still see the orange glow in an otherwise dark hallway, and a mask pushed up just enough for our mouths to meet. The hard wall at my back and clothes pushed away as…

I sit up, scrubbing at my eyes.

A dream. Only a dream.

Only the hottest, dirtiest dream I've ever had in my life.

It should be the most shocking thing about my morning. But what startles me most is the banging on my door, which I realize is what woke me so abruptly.

And when I swing open the door to see who it is, campus police wait on the other side.