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Bexley was the perfect distraction and fixation that I needed where my family pains were concerned. It was that first day that I noticed how she took away that hurt.
Perfect was a bit of a lie. Was Bexley perfect?For me.
Physically, there was a little crookedness in her smile, a tooth here and there that overlapped. She sneezed so fucking loudly for such a small person, and lately she had a habit of being absentminded when we’d all get together.
Less than stalking, but more than a casual observer, I had watched her around campus to learn the more intimate flaws that make a person. Her favorite condiment with pizza was ranch dressing; why she wouldn’t use marinara was beyond me. Don’t get me started on the pickle thing. I didn’t think she’d ever been on time for anything important in her life, and by some people’s standards, she swore too much.Curse away.
Okay, yeah, some of those were stupid flaws to consider, but if they're not an issue of morality why would they matter to begin with? Every observation of Bexley proved one thing: she was just a person. She wasn’t this grand force or this overbearing presence that was demanding like her father. She existed for herself, to do as she pleased. I saw her breaking the mold of her parents’ high society more and more each day.
The only drawback I saw was telling people to fuck off on occasion got caught in her throat when it mattered most, but it wasn’t for a lack of wanting to. So, if selective assertiveness was a flaw, then add it to the perfectly fine list. One can be taught to move past their inhibitions.
There was a time when Bex was looser with her thoughts and words, but the shift after graduation birthed the difference. I knew the breakup had occurred, but the gritty details were need-to-know.
I took out the last piercing and placed it on the dresser. I hadn’t anticipated needing to take them all out at once, but it was a headache I’d willingly suffer. I walked to the other side of the room and picked up the guitar. I sat on the edge of the bed and stroked various chords as I waited for the night’s arrival.
An image of Bexley standing in the middle of that costume madhouse came to me just in time to chase away the mental family reunion feelings. She and Mari were coming to Sigma’s party, and while it wasn’t my scene, I had a frat obligation and a lie to maintain.
I had a good feeling that it would be a night that defined us.
Bexley
“Okay, let’s go over the ground rules one more time,” Mari was calling from the bathroom.
“You say that like I’m the one who needs to be reined in and compliant.” I laughed as she twisted out of the doorframe and gave me a pointed look. “We have a three-drink rule and we’re not separating unless we’re getting some dick. And even then—”
“We’re going to be within shouting distance if we need help,” she finished my sentence. These rules were more so in place due to Mari’s insistence, but my gut told me it was to prevent a repeat of my past.
“Okay, glad we both understand tonight’s festivities; let’s get our sexy asses moving!” She grinned and nearly bounced out of the apartment. Her handcuffs jingled against her hip, and the plastic baton twisted with the sway of her stride.
She had no hesitation with the purchase when she saw herself in the police costume. I had to admit, she pulled it off insanely well. The crisp blue against her rich skin complimented the warm sepia undertones, and the fabric cut accentuated her strong arms and thighs. Naturally tall, the boots she chose gave her more height and extended her long legs. I wouldn’t even blame someone for being envious of her; her personality was as rich as her beauty, and I reminded myself how lucky I was to stand beside her and call her my platonic soulmate.
She was responsible for the uptick in my practice of self-confidence, reminding me that scars of the past don’t dull us or make us ugly. Her heart and mind were full of passion and acceptance. She made me whole again, and I wouldn’t let her go for anything.
Sigma wasn’t too out of the way, so we trekked our way down the street and followed the gathering mass of glitter, face paint, and fangs. Coming over the slight hill, there were bodies everywhere, both human and decoration. Sigma had a very large house to accommodate its member size, and their decorating team did not skimp with this massive canvas. The sun was deep beneath the horizon, and the moon reflected off the pale bones of the skeletons in the trees, bushes, and half-crawling out of the dirt.
The mood had been set.
Mari pulled us through the main entrance covered in no less than thirty webs where she gave a mock salute to one of the fraternity brothers and steered us into the kitchen.
It was exceedingly rich here. Not in a decadent way, but theprice tagway. Those overlooking Sigma’s activities and expenses spared none when it came to renovations. On the outside, the house was very beguiling: old shutters, gothic details, chipped and flaking paint, old wrought iron fixtures, and even cracked concrete steps.
Inside was a mansion fit for reality TV—granite countertops, expensive wooden cabinetry, a double stove, that weird wheel sink faucet thing that honestly looked like more of a hassle. The large island had refreshments placed on it, and there were hands moving everywhere, over the food, into bowls, digging through the ice.
Fucking gross.
“The most important stop, obviously.” Mari shoved a drink into my hands that she swiped from one of the counters. “Drink up!” I looked down at the mystery liquid. The punch was a deep red, almost bordering on purple, and I was wary about its contents. I didn’t even think it was still chilled. Nausea started to settle in my stomach as flashbacks threatened.
“You know how I feel about premade punches,” I whispered as I pulled her closer. Anxiety was starting to creep in. “Especially inthisenvironment,” I subtly suggested of the questionable men stalking the movement at the makeshift bar for prey.
“You’re right. Shit, B.” Her eyes darted around the kitchen and dining space, but her grip never left me.
A cold drink was pushed across my shoulder. I looked down to see a capped glass bottle with a beer label facing up. When I turned to look up, instead of a knight in shining armor, or really any kind of face at all, a Ghostface mask was towering over me. A version of Ghostface if he were into the emo or tech-wear scene.Interesting.
It was hard to distinguish if the flush was from an ominous gaze I couldn’t quite see, but feel, or the pleather suit in a stuffy frat house full of gyrating bodies.
A girl shouldered past him, causing him to shift his balance and instinctively reach for me as if it had somehow affected me, too. His hand landed at the base of my neck and shoulder.
“Oh no, Ghostie!” Giggles erupted from her friend. “Please don’t kill me!” She was more seductive than scared, but I was no acting coach. She moved in closer to whisper, “I want to be in yourbedroom.” Leave it to Trisha Manohen to be so forward in someone else’s moment while not even closely quoting the movie.
