“Theo, do you have pictures of my costume, then?” Oliver asks.
“Of course, I have everyone,” Theo replies, then turns his phone around to show me a group photo.
My knees nearly buckle as I process the image. “Oh, oh, OH!” I point to each character more excitedly than the next. I recognize Theo as Edward Teach, Caleb as Stede Bonnet, and Harrison as Oluwande. The other faces portraying Mary Bonnet, Roach, and Lucius don’t look familiar, but I assume Wren is the one dressed as Jim, which leaves Oliver as?—
“You were Buttons!?” I shout, unable to control my excitement.
“Only one of my favorite characters in media,” Oliver says with a grin. “The weird hairpiece was a pain then, too, but so worth it.”
God, I want to hug him. All of them, really. “This is amazing,” I finally blurt. “You all look so perfect. Could you send this to me? Unless that’s weird, in which case, don’t worry about it?—”
Theo laughs. “Yes, I’ll be happy to send it to you.”
I can definitely feel a buzz at this point, so I lean into it. “Thank you,” I sing.
“Uh oh,” Oliver says. “Are you already drunk?”
“Just tipsy, I’m sure,” I say, waving a hand at him. “I haven’t eaten much today.”
Oliver’s eyes widen. “Oh, well, you should probably have a snack, then. Come on, let’s grab you something to nibble on.”
Oliver helps me fill a plate with finger foods just in time for Max, Vimlesh, and Harrison to walk through the door. Max told me about his “group” costume with Vimlesh, though I’m not sure I would have recognized the Star Wars characters without knowing in advance. Still, they resemble the characters well, and I tell them so. Harrison, on the other hand, is in a fairly basic suit and tie with a blue lanyard around his neck. His glassesare different from the ones he usually wears—thin wire frames instead of thick plastic ones—and they sit dangerously low on his nose.
“Aww, you’re Dylan fromSeverance, aren’t you?” Celeste asks with a wide grin.
Harrison smiles. “You’re the first one to guess it right on the first try.”
“It’s the glasses,” Celeste adds. “All I want to do every time I see him on screen is just—” she steps forward and gently presses the glasses up the bridge of his nose with her finger. “Boop!There, doesn’t that feel better?”
Harrison laughs. “It really does feel better, but unfortunately—” he drags them back down. “—this is an essential part of the costume.”
“Damn, your dedication to the bit is impressive, Harry,” Oliver says with a chuckle.
“Says the disgusting, decaying vampire,” Harrison replies, shaking his head as he looks Oliver up and down. “Dude, you look absolutely horrific.”
“Thank you,” Oliver says, bowing his head. “Wren is an artistic genius.”
Eventually, our group moves from standing by the snack table to sitting on the massive sectional, in various chairs, and on floor pillows in the living room. Unlike the stiff, dingy sofas in our dorms, the cushions of this couch feel like they’re stuffed with clouds. I move on to my second drink, then a third, but Oliver keeps an eye on my water and snack intake.
Nikki, however, seems to have found some fellow marketing majors from Emory among Grace and Chloe’s friends, so she only swings by occasionally to check in and give me a peck on the cheek.
I try not to take it personally. She is a year older than I am and far more focused on her career. She has to be—she’smore than halfway through her degree. Networking is critical, especially in a field like marketing.
Luckily, it’s easy to keep my mind occupied. Our social group seamlessly bounces between amusing stories, splitting into smaller conversations, and shamelessly singing along to the party music. Somewhere in the middle of a lively rendition of “This Is Halloween” from The Nightmare Before Christmas, it occurs to me that I’ve never felt so endeared to a group this size. No wonder Oliver loves these people so much—I’ve only known them for a few hours, and I can already tell I’ll miss them when they’re gone.
By the time the singalong ends, the room is pleasantly spinning. I blissfully glance over at Oliver, only to frown at his appearance. “Oliver, I have to tell you something.”
“What’s up?”
I lean in closer, and as I breathe in, I recognize his familiar comforting scent. I expected him to smell like makeup, latex, or paint, but instead he smells like he always does—clean, crisp, and cozy. Like the air in late spring, after everything has bloomed and the pollen has washed away. It’s what I imagine laundry smells like as it dries on a clothesline: like a clean, refreshing breeze.
“Jude?”
“Hm?”
Oliver tries not to laugh. “You said you have to tell me something?”
“Oh yeah, I think your costume is cool, but it’s gross. I miss your hair. And your face.”
