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Way better!
“I wish I could eat all night. I wish I had the belly capacity. We’d, uh, better be careful with my body—”
Right. Don’t want you to burst before your date.
“Right, before our—” I blink, stunned, and glance over at the window above the table. It’s dark. “Fuck.”
I hurry to my feet—which is a far more difficult feat than it sounds with a bellyful of pizza—and check my phone for the time. I have less than an hour before I have to meet Byron at the corner of the coffee shop.
It’s alright, bro. Calm down. We’ve got this.
“Yeah, we’ve got this,” I agree. “I should probably get ready.” A pinch of primeval terror twists my insides, and it is not a pleasant feeling on a full stomach.
That terror is at once dissipated, as if I have some magic, built-in mechanism within me trained to seek and destroy all traces of fear and uncertainty.
I already know I can do this, reassurance unneeded.
I get into costume, applying the chalky, ghoulish makeup on my face and arms. I add the black pomade to my hair, styling it in a uniquely messy-yet-sexy way. Intentionally out of control. Zombie-licious.
It’s time to go. I give my reflection a self-assured smirk in the mirror, feeling more ready than ever. Some happy place in my heart smiles. “Hey, um … West …?”
A feeling of satisfaction swells inside my chest in response. I don’t even need to say it; he already knows.
Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome, bro. Now go get him!
8
Is That Your Hand or Mine?
It isn’t until I step foot outside of my apartment building that I realize the full effect of bringing West with me. He’s never been outside in one whole year. As I stroll down the sidewalk, I feel his elation and wonder bursting inside of me like a child stumbling into a candy store. Everything is extra colorful. Extra bright.
Extra loud.
When I round the corner, I see him. Somehow, my heart doesn’t even jump; I feel perfectly capable of just marching straight down this road and meeting Byron.
Piece of Halloween cake.
As I approach, his back is to me. I’m not quite sure what costume he went with, but he seems to be wearing a sleeveless sunset-orange vest, which stretches rather impressively across his broad back and shoulders, just like his uniform polo does, and it pairs beautifully with his deep bronze skin tone. His pants—a rich and vibrant forest green—are skintight, showing off his firm buns. I wasn’t actually aware until now how amazing his ass is, since he’s been tucked away behind a counter the majority of the time I’ve spent around him. A simple pair of boots finish off the look from behind.
But when he senses me approaching and turns, I’m stopped in my tracks. The front of his vest has a large pumpkin emblem on it complemented by a lively orange sash with the word “Prince” across it. Atop his head is a crown, cocked forward so I didn’t notice it from behind.
His face warms the moment he spots me.
Sparkling eyes in the streetlight.
Smile that could crush mountains.
Body made of strength, chiseled in granite.
“Griffin!” he greets me cheerily. “You look so … ghostly and awesome!”
Bro, what … is this … that I’m feeling …?
I stop in front of Byron, overcome. “Wow, that is quite the getup! Did you make this yourself?”
“I might’ve never mentioned, I kinda have a thing for costumes. You should see my closet at home. I used to do cosplay a lot as a teen, going to all the conventions and stuff, but …” His cheeks redden as he rubs the back of his neck. “Ahh, never mind. I’m telling you way too much too soon. You probably think I’m a total neeerd.”
My heart is bursting. The date hasn’t even started, and I feel like I’ve won the grand prize. “I like being surprised. And you’ve got quite a talent, Byron.”
Relief splashes over his face. “Thanks! By the way, is it obvious?” He gestures at himself. “I’m the Pumpkin Prince! I had this pumpkin embroidery leftover from a botched Halloween Knight costume I was trying to do for last year’s Comic-Con, and I had these green tights from a Peter Pan thing, and …” He laughs it off. “There I go again, talking too much.”
What are these feelings I’m having …? Dude …
I try to suppress my confusion—or whatever seems to be happening with West deep down there—and give Byron a smile. “You can tell me everything! I’m all ears and eyes with you tonight.”
Byron’s lips curl up, appearing grateful, his eyes lost in mine for a moment. Then he snaps out of it. “Are you ready to go? It’s just down a couple of blocks.”
“Sure.”
The pair of us walk side-by-side down the block. I ask him how his day went, and he has several stories to share. I can barely stay focused on what he’s saying, as I catch myself in an inescapable mesmerized state. With every squeaky laugh, or sparkle of his eye, or tiny smile he gives, my heart is stolen away all over again.
