31. walk the plank

31

WALK THE PLANK

"Are you serious?" deadpans Kinsey.

I look down at myself, then frown at her. "What do you mean? This costume is classic."

"Classic like boring. " Laughing, she tugs at the zipper of my wetsuit that sits near my throat. "Zombie Surfer? Really?"

I shrug. "Maybe it's not original, but my makeup is on point. I freaking spent two hours watching YouTube tutorials."

Her nose scrunches. "Yeah, the makeup is pretty good. You look freaky."

I know exactly why she's giving me a hard time, but it's more fun to skirt around the issue. Her own costume is a sexy version of Alice in Wonderland, which means Nix is probably the Mad Hatter. With a quick sweep of the room, I confirm that the ratio of exposed skin to clothing is drastically skewed. I, on the other hand, am wearing my scuba wetsuit, which covers me from wrist to ankle and is nice and thick.

The weather took a dive today and it's actually chilly tonight. I'm going to be comfortable hanging outside, where the main party is going on, while everyone else is going to freeze.

Basically, I'm a genius.

Turning back to Kinsey, I open my mouth to compliment her costume—or maybe point out the goosebumps on her arms—but before I can get a word out she grabs the zipper near my neck and yanks it down, exposing my bikini top.

"Dude," I protest.

Kinsey grins at my exposed cleavage. "Much better."

I pull the zipper back up.

She pulls it back down.

It happens three more times before we hear Nix's loud laughter. "Leave the girl alone, Kins!" he says, draping an arm around his girlfriend's shoulder. He squints at me. "Zombie surfer, huh? Cool."

I arch a brow at a scowling Kinsey. "See?"

She's unswayed. "Friendship is about compromise, Mia."

I begrudgingly lower the zipper to my cleavage. "Fine, but only because you told me fifty times how important this party is to you."

Her features soften. "Thanks." She glances around the beautiful backyard. There's a live band playing, a ton of quality Halloween decorations—including performers whose sole goal is to scare the bejeezus out of partygoers. Servers dressed as ghouls carry around trays with themed appetizers, and the bartenders are all dressed up as vampires.

"Does it seem like everyone's having fun?" she asks, glancing nervously between Nix and me.

"Of course, babe!" Nix says quickly.

"I just got here, but there are probably a hundred people in your yard." I point toward a nearby group. "Look, people laughing. Laughing means fun. Oh, and dancing. Dancing is fun, too."

Kinsey nods, tension releasing from her shoulders. Nix kisses her temple. This is the first year her annual party hasn't been geared toward outright depravity. No drugs. No hard alcohol, only beer and wine. The guest list was whittled way down from prior years, too, from a whopping three hundred to a mere one-fifty.

"Thanks, guys, I feel better." Kinsey gives herself a shake and grins up at Nix. "Time to mingle!"

I point in a vague direction. "I'm going to, uh…"

They laugh at me. Kinsey blows me a kiss. "Try to have fun, Mia. And remember, you can't leave before midnight."

I give her an ironic salute. "You got it, boss."

I head for the nearest bar.

At eleven thirty, the party is still going strong. For the most part, it's stayed classy. No broken glass or calls to the cops. That being said, the Incredible Hulk is holding Wonder Woman's hair as she pukes into a bush. A werewolf is fondling Betty Boop's breasts near the fence, and there's a couple in the hot tub who may or may not be having public sex.

I've been camped out on a lounge by the pool for the last hour or so, nursing my third beer, people-watching, and generally enjoying the repellent effect of my scary makeup and covered body. Contrary to the pitying looks from passersby, I'm not bored or lonely. I've been texting with friends at various bars and other parties, hassling Jameson for staying home to hand out candy, and basking in the knowledge that I'm off tomorrow and can sleep in.

"Is this seat taken?" asks a muffled, male voice.

I don't look up to see whatever mask he's wearing. Eyes on my phone, I wave at the empty lounge beside mine. "Nope."

The man settles with a sigh, tossing legs and booted feet onto the lounge. He smells good. Weirdly familiar. Ignoring the urge to glance at him, I text Jameson.

Will Jessica be at the house Sunday?

I think so

Should we start calling her Mom?

Wow

Too soon?

Are you drunk? Leave me alone

Whatever

I might, in fact, be a little drunk .

"Nice night, isn't it?"

"Yes," I mutter distractedly.

"Pretty cold, though."

Mr. Conversation over here.

I lower my phone and look at my companion, prepared to dissuade any notions he has of scoring casual sex. He's dressed as a pirate, complete with eye patch, bandana covering the lower half of his face, and a fancy hat set at an angle that obscures most of his visible eye. A billowing white shirt is unlaced at the throat to expose a tanned neck and a patch of smooth skin. Snug black pants flatter the hell out of his long legs.

Pulling my head from the gutter, I glance up again, trying unsuccessfully to see his face. Why does he seem so familiar? I'm two beers past answering that question or considering it for longer than a second or two.

"Do I pass inspection?" he asks with a small chuckle.

That chuckle.

My breath catches. My skin prickles. Reaching forward, I yank the bandana down his face. It snags on his ears and he makes a small, pained noise.

"Sorry not sorry," I breathe.

He laughs, tugging the bandana the rest of the way down and pulling off his hat. The eyepatch is next, flipping up to expose his other bright blue eye. Both of them are now fixed on my face, their expression unreadable.

"Happy Halloween, Amelia."

Not yet recovered from shock, I continue gaping. "What are you doing here?"

"Kinsey sent an invitation to my office last month. I wasn't going to come—it's not exactly professional—but then I realized you'd probably be here and professionalism flew out the window."

He says it so matter-of-factly, like the words didn't just explode my brain. "What?"

His gaze lowers to my chest. Electricity follows the path of his visual caress. The zipper is still above my breasts, but I suddenly feel more naked than the skinny-dippers currently in the pool.

Leo drags a hand over his mouth, eyes snapping up to mine. "I'm not good at this, so I'm just going to tell you the truth. I've never been more attracted to anyone in my life than I am to you. I thought a few months would change things, but it didn't. Hasn't. I'm not sure what to do about it, or what I'm asking, or if you even?—"

"Are you propositioning me?" I blurt.

"I don't know. Maybe." He swallows hard. "I'm not sure I can offer you a normal, uh, situation."

What the WHAT?

His feet hit the ground between our chairs. Propping elbows on his knees, he lowers his head, shaking it like he has no clue how he got here. I want so badly to touch the dark strands, to pull his head up and kiss him until we both go insane, but my emotions are bouncing around like kids on sugar. Not all of them are excited, either. And one of them feels a lot like heartbreak.

"Tell me what to do, Amelia," he says softly. "Tell me what you want."

My libido provides a flashback of the hot springs. Warmth surges through me, coalescing in my breasts and between my legs. I've relived that night so many times I should own stock in batteries.

Do I want more of that?

Hell yes, hollers Vagina . Best sex ever!

Wait a darn minute, cautions Heart. He's asking for sex, not a date.

A date would mean… well, dating. A potential relationship as equals. Being seen together in public.

He's a respected psychiatrist.

I'm his ex-patient.

"Leo?"

He looks up sharply, eagerly. "Yes?"

I open my mouth, then close it and look away. On the other side of the pool, I spot Kinsey and Nix. They're standing close, smiling and kissing and holding each other. Oblivious to my crisis of conscience, insulated by their love. For some reason, the sight of them calms me. Brain takes advantage, delivering a knock-out punch to Vagina.

When I turn back to Leo, he speaks before I can. "You don't have to answer. I understand. And fuck, I'm proud of you. My only excuse is I haven't been thinking clearly since I saw you yesterday. I'm sorry."

I manage a wobbly smile. "Don't be sorry. For anything. You brought me back to life."

He studies me another moment, then nods and stands. "If it's any consolation, you did the same for me."

Watching him walk away lands in the top five worst moments of my life.