No alcohol for me, thanks. Don’t need to make any terrible decisions tonight.
The house is packed full of people. Some of the guys wear masks, though many of them simply wear horns to show their outfit off. It’s clear the girls put the overwhelming majority of the work in when it comes to their angel costumes—every single girl I see is dolled up to the nines, looking like true angels.
Some of the guys stroll around shirtless, showing off their muscles and their six-packs. Those ones only have a black sheet wrapped around their lower torsos, and it makes me wonder if they came together or if they’re in some fraternity and decided to match tonight.
Sloane and Elias disappear in the living room shortly after they get themselves drinks. I don’t follow them. The last time I followed them into a living room at a party, I saw my ex. As much as I don’t want to see Logan, I also don’t want to see Mike, either. I decide to creep around and make sure neither of them are around, although if they’re here and wearing a mask, it won’t be easy to spot them.
I walk around, nonchalantly checking everyone out as I go. Everyone is so wrapped up in their own lives, in their own groups, that no one seems to notice little old me. The music is loud, the talking is loud, even the laughter around me; it’s all so darn loud, it’s hard for me to think.
But at least I don’t see Mike or Logan anywhere.
It should put me at ease, neither of them being here, but it doesn’t. I feel strange, itchy, almost. Like a deep, dark part of me hoped I’d see them. Maybe not Mike, but Logan. I’d like to think I have a few things I’d tell Logan if I saw him again, mainly some swear words he’d probably get a kick out of me for using.
God, I am so pathetic.
I stand in the hallway near the front door, peering into the living room, wondering why I can’t shut my brain off and act like everyone else here. A gush of cold alerts me to the door opening, and out of the corner of my eye I see a masked man enter. He wears all black, like Elias, but he’s taller than Elias by a few inches. His mask is plain, the kind with no facial expression, just a blank slate and holes for the eyes and nostrils. Tiny curled horns sit on his head—the only part of him that looks like a devil.
I meet the guy’s stare for only a few seconds before I duck away, suddenly feeling claustrophobic, like I need to find a place to be alone and catch my breath, slow my wandering thoughts.
In a house like this? With a party going on? Should be easy to find some privacy, right?
Going upstairs is always a possibility, but I don’t want to intrude on any space or barge in on people getting down and dirty, so that’s probably a no-go for me. I wander to the back of the house and peer out of the glass near the patio door, and I see that they have some of those space heaters outside.
Hmm. I don’t know how well those things actually work. The snow around them is definitely long-since melted, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the air around them will be warm enough for me.
I feel paralyzed with indecision, and even though there are tons of people in this house, all seemingly having the time of their lives, I feel so alone it hurts. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself since my life blew up, it’s that I don’t particularly enjoy being alone.
Being alone sucks. Is it really so wrong to want to be wanted?
With a sigh, I’m seconds from moving away from the window. I turn around and nearly bump into someone—a hard, solid chest. With the wall and window behind me, I barely have enough room to recover, and I blink rapidly and gaze up at the person I nearly walked into, saying, “I’m sorry.”
But the moment I angle my head back and meet the masked man’s shadow-covered eyes, the words kind of die in the back of my throat. It’s the same guy who just walked in. It’s like he ignored everyone else in the house and decided to come straight for me.
Those eyes… he faces away from the lights, so his entire face is covered by shadows, due in large part to the mask he wears. Still, as I stand there, a strange part of me feels like I’ve stood there before.
Do I know him?My heart skips a beat in my chest, and I swallow hard. The man is at least a foot taller than me. Not as overly muscled as, say, Logan, so that can’t be who it is. I see dark hair and a very well-toned body, but he could be literally anyone.
When he does not move, when he doesn’t say a word, I whisper, “Uh… hi.” Wow, way to sound lame. If I could smack myself I would. You’d think I’d be better at this sort of thing by now, but I’m not. New year, new me? Not so much.
The guy tilts his head at me, the movement slow and methodical, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Heck, I wonder who he is beneath that mask. Maybe we had a class together before? He’s definitely not Logan, and he’s not Mike, either. Too tall for that.
No, who is this guy, and why do I feel so oddly at ease beneath the shadow of his gaze?
Once the cat no longer has my tongue, I manage to ask, “This might be a weird question, but… do I know you?”
All he does is shrug. It seems this guy is sticking to his silence. Maybe his voice would give him away, and he’s not ready to divulge his identity to me. Maybe I wouldn’t give him the light of day if I knew who he was.
Hmm. I suppose there is something weirdly attractive about him in that mask. How he holds himself, how he gazes down at me. There’s something about him that screams familiar to me, and yet I can’t put my finger on it.
My mind flashes to Black Sacrament. Those guys, and their new female lead singer, all wear masks on stage. Though their masks are more demonic than this guy’s, I’d be lying if I said they weren’t attractive in them. There’s something about a mask that brings about an air of mystery. It forces you to not pay too much attention to their face, but in how they walk, how they move.
This guy? He wears the plain black mask well, even with the added devil horns behind them.
“Well,” I say, not knowing what to do in this situation, “I guess I should go.” Though I say it, there isn’t much heart behind it. It’s almost as if I don’t want to go, like this guy’s gaze is pinning me in place. I’m immobile, and suddenly the loudness of the party, all the other people here, even Sloane and Elias; none of it matters to me anymore. It all fades away.
I say I should go, but I don’t move. I just can’t. And, besides, it isn’t like the masked guy moves out of my way. His body effectively blocks me from all escape.
I should feel uncomfortable. I should tell him to move. I should do something, anything, besides stand there and act like he injected me with paralyzing venom. All those things, though, are suddenly impossible. I am rooted in place, and I don’t know how to snap out of it.
