“Just remember,” Lexi says, expression turning grave, “if the other kids are drinking, that doesn’t mean you need to!”
A roll of his eyes, along with a pinch of sibling affection.
Apparently, he realizes as he pulls up to the modestly sized but gorgeously remodeled house in Culver City, personal trainers to the stars do quite well for themselves. He pops a mint, texts Ramona that he just parked, and heads up the front walk.
He’s not expecting her to be the one to answer the door.
He’s expecting even less to see her in a schoolgirl costume.
Light blue button-up with a little tie and a navy sweater-vest. Plaid skirt almost as short as the one she wore to school on the day they don’t talk about, knee socks—even a pair of saddle shoes. Her hair is parted down the middle, dark waves cascading down her shoulders.
Oh fuck, this is going to be a long night.
“Hi,” she says, a bit nervous.
“Hi.” His gaze flicks up and down her costume.Don’t ogle her. Don’t ogle her.“And you are…?”
“Rory Gilmore. In her Chilton era.”
“What’s a Chilton?”
Ramona’s mouth falls open, and he tries not to imagine what her berry lip balm would taste like. “New plan. Instead of getting you back into the dating world, I think I need to educate you on the joys and disappointments ofGilmore Girls.” She gestures to his makeshift cape and T-shirt, whereEgois written in bold Sharpie letters. “Are you…the superego?”
He assumed it would be the dorkiest costume here by far, but alas, that is who he is at his core. “I am indeed.”
When she laughs, it’s a light, musical sound. “Obsessed. You’re always so on-brand.”
He hopes that’s a good thing.
Hunter’s words bang around inside his head.Those people know exactly how to get what they want from you.
But Ramona isn’tthose people. She isn’t doing all of this—the friendship, the dating profile, the party invitation—just so she can get a good grade. He’s almost certain of it. Besides, she’s been doing well entirely on her own.
What’s most alarming about the whole thing is that someone else has noticed Ramona spending extra time with him. No matter how many other students come to his office hours or chat with him after class, none of them are asking him to spend Halloween with them.
If anyone knew he was at this party…
Well, it’s a good thing they don’t.
Now that he’s getting a better look at the house, it’s a far cry from the cotton spiderweb decor and paper bats that mark the kind of parties he’s been to. This place looks likeArchitectural Digest: Spooky Edition, everything done up in black and cream with gold accents. There are bejeweled pumpkins, black lace draped over mirrors, flickering candles, a couple life-sized skeletons. The bartender even has a very believable replica of his head in the tip jar next to him.
A muscular Asian girl who looks to be in her early thirties appears in an elaborate vampire costume. “Welcome,” she says, the word slightly muffled by fake plastic fangs. “Phone, please.”
Ramona rolls her eyes. “Betty, this is Nick. Nick, Betty.”
He catches the lift of Betty’s thickly penciled eyebrows at his name, and he wonders how much Ramona has told her about him.
“Nick! Nice to meet you. Thank you for educating our youth.” She flashes him a smile that, despite the fangs, looks genuine. “I’m still going to need your phone.”
“These parties have a strict no-phones rule,” Ramona explains. “It’s the only way most of us can relax.”
Nick surrenders his without protest. Betty skips down the hall presumably to lock it up with everyone else’s devices, and Ramona introduces him to some of the other guests: Betty’s friend-clients from the gym, other celebrity-adjacent people who have all been properly vetted. A woman famous for YouTube yoga tutorials, a health-food restaurateur, an actress on a Netflix show he watched last year.
“Try not to act too starstruck,” she says into his ear as they grab drinks from the bar. Pomegranate-flavored seltzer with a lime wedge for her, a ginger beer for him.
“I didn’t with you, did I?” he volleys back.
He thought he might feel out of place, but with Ramona next to him on the couch, he finds himself able to relax. As long as he doesn’t look at her legs, or that adorable cluster of freckles right above the hem of her knee sock.
