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Chapter One
Brynn
“I really don’t think you should go tonight.”
I glance at my roommate in the mirror as I brush the final coat of mascara on my thick, dark eyelashes. “So you’ve said, somewhere around 34 times,” I say good-naturedly.
“I know, but you’re getting ready to leave, so I wanted to tell you again. I have really bad vibes about tonight, and you know I’ve been right before.”
Stacie’s right. We joke that I was born without instincts, but it’s hardly a joke. I’m not sure where the disconnect lives in my body—maybe it’s the problems I had when I was younger, when I worked so hard to dissociate from my reality—but that connection seems to have been permanently severed. I could walk right off the side of a cliff and my body wouldn’t give me that warning sensation until it was far too late to do anything about it.
I glance back at my well-meaning roommate. “I also know you think Kyle is a douchebag, so it’s probably more your misconceptions about him leading you to that bad feeling than actual bad vibes.”
“Don’t go,” she says, leaning against the wall. “Stay here with me and we’ll binge candy and watch scary movies together.”
“You know I don’t like scary movies.” I pop the brush back in my tube of mascara and screw the lid on. Taking a step back so I can look at my reflection all the way to my knees, I ask, “How do I look?”
“Beautiful,” she says, almost without bothering to glance at me. “You’re always beautiful. And you deserve better for a first date than ‘come to my lame frat’s Halloween party.’ That’s not even a real date. The asshole could at least take you to dinner.”
“It’s fine. I’m sure if we like each other after this, he will ask me to dinner. At least at a party, if we don’t hit it off, we’re not stuck in only each other’s company. Like, remember that godawful date I went on where we ran out of things to talk about over an appetizer? What I would have given to be able to simply pretend I see someone I know and get the hell away from that boring mess.”
Stacie watches as I turn around and grab a handful of the white lace robe flaring out behind me.
Since people have told me for years I resemble Emmy Rossum, I decided to put together a costume of her as Christine in the Phantom of the Opera movie when she gets lured to the lair of the beast. I even watched a video of her hair routine so I could get my chocolate brown curls to match hers as closely as possible.
“Do you think anyone will guess my costume?”
“Not a chance in hell.”
I crack a smile. “I guess Christine without Erik is a harder costume to guess, but my choices were limited. Kyle told me to pick something white and kind of modest, but also sexy. That’s a smaller selection than you might think. I don’t even know if he’ll think this is sexy, but I think it gives a Victorian sexy vibe.”
When I look at Stacie, her eyes are wide with barely repressed horror. “He told you what to fucking wear?”
Oops.
I didn’t mean to tell her that part.
Stacie is easily annoyed by a man being in any way bossy toward her, and while I get that, it doesn’t bother me at all that Kyle made a suggestion about my costume. It’s just a costume. He probably wanted to know what I’d be wearing so he could find me more easily in the crowd.
A small part of me even hopes the reason behind it may have been that he wants to surprise me with a matching costume.
I envision walking through the doors and seeing the swish of a black cape in the crowd. I go looking for him, but he finds me. I turn to see the tall, white-masked phantom there to whisk me off to his underground lair where he can have me all to himself.
I do love a man in a mask.
And a man who’s really into spending time with me, though I acknowledge that part of the fantasy is probably a massive stretch.
Kyle and I had a pleasant conversation while we waited in line at the coffeehouse near campus, then we texted a bit after I gave him my number, but the connection probably wasn’t enough to warrant surprise couples costumes at his frat party in front of all his friends.
But who knows? I’m a glass-half-full kind of girl, and Kyle did seem really interested in me.
Eagerness to get there and see his costume makes me excited, but Stacie is in the opposite headspace and still wants to keep me home.
Her gaze rakes over my costume more aggressively this time, lingering on the tight bodice that pushes up my boobs, then the white thigh-highs and the exposed skin above them. “All right, my bad juju meter has just gone up. There’s no way you’re going to this party, Brynn.”
I smile at her protectiveness and pat her shoulder on my way out of the room. “I’ll text you when I get there so you don’t worry.”
“I will still worry,” she insists, following me.
