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I turn and leave before I change my mind and do something stupid. When I get to the gate, he calls out, “Hey, Gemma, care to make one bad decision tonight?”
I turn, ready to agree to whatever he suggests.
“Always.”
“Friday. Dougie and Brandon are having a party. You should come.”
I nod. “I’ll let Frank know not to wait up.”
Chapter 12
I have beento enough Dougie-and-Brandon parties in my timeline to suspect I’m walking into a frat-boy-style kegger with fancier cups.
The text message that flashes across my home screen on Wednesday confirms this theory.
Dax: Hey there hot stuff!!! Party on Friday is hero/villain-themed. Come dressed to kill. Handcuffs encouraged (seven kissy-face emojis).
It’s immediately followed up with a second message.
Dax: In case it wasn’t clear. Dougie stole my phone, but looking forward to friday…hot stuff (single winking emoji).
Last year, in my timeline, Dougie and Brandon held a hero/villain party. I invited Stuart, but he wasn’t into crowded places and held strong opinions on wearing costumes past middle school, so I skipped our standing Friday night date and instead went with Dax. We spent two full weeks scouring the thrift shops on James Street until we found replica costumes of Batman and Robin of the Adam West era. They looked just homemade enough to be amazing. We were the hit of the party.
For some reason, I can’t let the memory of that night go. Andalthough I don’t have weeks to source the perfect pieces for my costume, I manage to find a pair of beige tights and a red sweater vest and to borrow a yellow cape and black mask from my nephew Riley. Not amazing, but good enough to do Burt Ward justice.
The party is only a twenty-minute walk from my basement address. I can hear Beyoncé blasting before I reach Dougie and Brandon’s block. Already there are costume-clad partygoers on the lawn with fancy rose-gold-trimmed plastic cups in hand, playing what looks to be croquet.
The music is so bumping that I can feel the bass reverberate in my chest as I climb the steps to the porch and push open the brightly painted blue door. It opens into Dougie and Brandon’s living room and dining room, both of which are packed with sweaty bodies clad in a rainbow array of vividly colored spandex.
My gaze pans the crowd, looking for a familiar face. A very particular familiar face. But instead of finding Dax, I spot Sunny, standing alone in the corner, bopping her shoulders off-time to the music, completely unaware that she’s being ogled by half of the Y chromosomes in the room.
She’s dressed as Wonder Woman. A DC version that skips the skimpy bodysuit, favoring more modest blue leggings. However, Sunny is all legs, and butt, and boobs. All of which look incredible in spandex and make me very aware that on top of my tights, I’m wearing a pair of cotton Hanes green underpants.
As she weaves through the crowd toward me, black curls bouncing behind her, I reassess that it’s not just the Y chromosomes who are guilty of openly ogling and count myself among the guilty.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” She wraps her arms around me, pulling me into her incredible boobs. “I was standing in the corner feeling awkward because Dougie and Brandon are busy, and I don’t know anyone else at this party.”
I dwell on the idea that someone who looks like Sunny could ever feel awkward before moving on to processing the second part of her statement. “So Dax isn’t here yet?”
She shrugs, then stands on her toes to see over the crowd in the living room. “I haven’t seen him, but I only got here about twenty minutes ago.”
For a moment, I panic, thinking maybe he made other plans tonight, until I turn and spot him, head above the crowd, working his way through the busy living room toward us. His green eyes catch mine, and as tempted as I am to hold his gaze, my eyes travel south of their own accord.
He’s wearing gray pantyhose.
They hug his legs like a second skin. Every muscle, every nook, every curve. And despite my heightened awareness that he’s watching me watching him, I home in on a particular curve and find that I am equally delighted and disappointed to see it covered by a pair of matching Hanes black underpants.
I tear my eyes back to his face just in time for him to raise his hand.
“Robin.”
I meet him for a high five that, to my delight and surprise, turns into a side hug.
His eyes have a glazed sheen, and his breath smells like the faintest hint of scotch, but here, in the little crook of his armpit, all I can think isthis.This is exactly what I’ve been missing. For a whole second, he’s my Dax.
“Did the two of you plan this?” Sunny points at our coincidentally coordinated outfits as Dax releases me and repeats the high-five-side-hug with her.
“Not at all.” Dax doesn’t try to hide the up-and-down he gives my body. “Guess it’s just great minds.”
