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“Please, don’t tell Sasha. Don’t tell anyone,” I beg.
If people know I’ll have to deal with the stares, the whispers, and I know I’m too fragile to handle it. I’m only so strong.
“I won’t, but…”
I glare at him.
“You should tell Sasha.”
“Sasha is a blabber mouth.” I stare him down, waiting for him to protest.
He doesn’t. “Yeah, you’re right, but that doesn’t mean as your friend she doesn’t deserve to know.”
“Maybe one day.” It’s the most agreement he’ll get from me.
“Thank you for telling me.”
I know he means it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Somehow, I find myself agreeing to the whole Halloween party thing, which means the next day Ansel and I go on the hunt for costumes. I honestly don’t see the point in dressing up, but both Ansel and Sasha insist it’s a must. Why can’t I wear sweatpants and a pizza stained shirt and call myself a college student studying for finals? Seems legit to me, and comfortable.
Ansel parks outside the pop-up Halloween store. I follow him inside, my eyes immediately assaulted with flashing lights, giant inflatables, and purple and orange twinkle lights.
“Costumes are this way.”
I follow Ansel to the back of the right side of the store. There are plenty of options, but they all look so basic to me.
I hold out a Sexy Unicorn costume and raise my brow, turning around the plastic bag to show it to Ansel. “Seriously?”
“That’s terrible. There’s a sexy costume for everything though. Want to be a toaster? There’s a sexy version somewhere.” He winks at me and I hang the garment bag back up. No chance am I going as a Sexy Unicorn.
The store has plenty of things to choose from, but nothing captures my interest.
Ansel finds a couple options, but nothing he loves. We both end up leaving empty handed.
We make a couple more stops, all without any luck. It makes sense with Halloween only two days away, but I can tell Ansel is irritated.
“I guess we’ll have to improvise and make our own costumes.” I buckle the seatbelt when we get back in the car from the last Halloween store he wanted to check.
“That’s not a bad idea, Meadows,” he muses, starting the car. “I can probably make something work.”
“I think I can too.”
“Sweet.” He holds out his fist for me to bump mine against.
We make one last stop at Watchtower for drinks before he drops me off.
“If your brother’s home, don’t tell him you were with me,” are his parting words as I get out, dragging my backpack behind me.
I shake my head at him. “Sage wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
He points a finger at me. “Lies!”
I close the door and he drives off. Heading inside, I adjust my backpack on my shoulder, crossing the lobby. I wait for the elevator and head up, surprised to find Sage already home.
“You’re home early.” I kick the door closed, since my hands are full and then set my stuff down so I can lock it.
