Page 26 of Haunted Spurs

I'm about to lean heavily toward option two, but before my muscles can even coordinate a retreat, the door swings open with overwhelming energy.

Carolina beams a massive, bright smile at me. She's also holding a bottle of wine by the neck, but my attention is aggressively hijacked by another detail. The microscopic t-shirt she's wearing rides up well above her belly button when she stretches her arm to open the door wider.

I stare at her boobs for a second too long. Then again... it is physically impossible not to stare. In bright pink block letters right across her chest, it reads: "Go ahead, stare at my boobs." And the white cotton shirt is so thin and sheer that I can clearly make out her metal nipple piercings.

"I'm so glad you decided to come after all!" Carolina exclaims, either oblivious to or entirely proud of my obvious visual tilt.

She's that kind of girl: energetic, sunny, proudly brazen, and deliciously chaotic. She's part of the book club dedicated to my novels.

"Thanks for inviting me," I say, clutching my bottle like a protective shield, already feeling hopelessly out of my depth.

In truth, I absolutely did not want to come. I am not a social person. My natural habitat requires silence, darkness, and fictional characters. But the girls insisted that since we're all signed up for the Haunted Spurs casting, we absolutely had to do a sort of "initiation rite" with a horror movie night.

The word no had formed crystal clear in my head, but I still didn’t say it out loud. Their smiles tricked me. So I nodded yes before I even realized what was happening.

At least horror is my favorite movie genre.

Carolina's apartment instantly throws me off. It's incredibly minimal and modern. Honestly? I expected it to be eccentric, saturated in shocking pink, feathers, and glitter. Or maybe opulent and pretentious, considering she's a princess. Or rather... an ex-princess. She and her twin sister gave up the throne in favor of their younger brother, Andrew.

When I step into the living room, I am hit by a wave of absurd chaos.

There are ceramic bowls overflowing with chips scattered everywhere. Fluffy cream-colored pillows have been tossed haphazardly onto the rug in front of a massive TV, and sitting right in the center of the coffee table are bags of popcorn... the classic ones, retro red-and-white striped paper bags like you'd get at the movies. I love them.

The girls huddled on the couch are squealing, bouncing, and collectively cheering over something playing on one of their phones.

"Alright... let me do introductions," Carolina cuts in, trying to make me feel welcome. "You already know Emma."

She points to the blonde girl. Her perfect, straight hair falls over one shoulder. She's wearing a light green, spaghetti-strap dress covered in tiny flowers, toned down by a warm, reassuring beige cardigan. Emma raises a hand, giving me a sweet, timid wave.

"Then there's Indya..." Carolina continues, pointing to a girl in jeans and a white t-shirt, with a long red braid. "...my best friend and, more importantly, will be my partner doing the reality show with me."

Indya steps forward, pulling me into a warm, unexpected hug.

I hold my breath. I bite my tongue hard so I don't stiffen and hiss that I am clinically allergic to unsolicited physical contact. From this inappropriately close distance, I notice a beautiful dusting of freckles bridging her nose and cheeks.

"And lastly, this is Audrey," Carolina finishes, pointing to a tall, statuesque girl with long, straight, incredibly glossy brown hair. "She's not doing Haunted Spurs, but she'll be my roommate for a while... so, contractually, she's a nice person."

Audrey rolls her eyes with a laugh at the joke, crunching on a chip.

"Hey guys... nice to meet you," I murmur, my voice coming out a little low and tight, still clutching my bottle of Pinot.

Then, as if my brain finally decided to reconnect to reality and basic social norms, I remember I brought the Pinot Noir specifically for the host. I extend a stiff arm and hand it to her.

"Oh, thank you!" Carolina trills, grabbing it with her usual exuberance. "We'll pop this open as soon as we finish the one we already started!"

She turns to the open kitchen counter and starts pouring the dark red wine into glass goblets.

“Speaking of which…” Carolina adds, handing me a glass. "Girls, what the hell were you giggling about a second ago? I could hear you from the hallway."

I take the glass and take a generous sip. I love red wine.

"Oh yeah, sorry, you all need to see this!" Indya exclaims.

She grabs her phone from the coffee table and turns it toward us. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Emma has suddenly turned beet red.

I lean toward the screen and squint.

It's a post from the official Elm Hollow Gazette feed, curated by Francis, as usual.