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She hooks her arm in mine as we head to the bar counter. I just order a White Claw. If I’m going to have a hookup, I don’t want to be drunk, but I could definitely stand to have my inhibitions lowered just a little.
I look around the bar. Halloween decorations are strung up all over and the music pumping through the speakers alternates between standard club-style hits and well-known Halloween songs.
Almost everyone is wearing a costume, and they come in all stripes: some super-detailed and high effort, some obvious attempts to wear as little clothing as possible, some funny, some gross.
After a couple sips of my drink, I can feel myself loosening up a little.
Finally, I start to feel the relief of being hundreds of miles away from all my troubles in Georgia. There’s no chance of running into Will, or Lisa, or any of my former so-called friends here. And with the mask covering half my face, no one could recognize me anyway.
My wandering gaze suddenly stops on a figure I notice across the bar. Immediately, my core tightens and a buzzing sensation ripples over me.
His face is the first thing that captivates my attention. He has it painted to look like a skull, his sharp and angular natural features adding to the skeletal theme in a striking way, stopping my wandering eyes in their tracks. His jaw line is razor-sharp, his cheekbones high and prominent, and captivating emerald-green irises flash from his deep-set eyes.
My gaze rakes down his body.
He wears an unbuttoned black vest, sleeveless to show off his long and thick arms, heavy with corded muscle. The open vest reveals his bulging chest muscles and his sharply cut six pack abs.
His dark slacks hang low enough on his trim hips to broadcast the V-shape carved into his lower ab muscles, pointing sharply and tantalizingly downward; shivers break out over me as my eyes follow the shape as it dips below his waistline.
It's definitely the kind of nothing-specific costume that’s really just an excuse for him to look as hot as possible—and I’m definitely not complaining.
My eyes crawl back up to his face, and the breath leaves my body when my gaze is suddenly locked with his. The sound ofMonster Mashplaying on the speakers is drowned out by my heartbeat hammering in my ears as everything around me seems to move in slow motion.
Our gazes are tethered together across the room, and I drink in his eyes that smolder with heat despite their fresh, forest-green hue.
Heat inches up my neck and spreads through my cheeks as liquid warmth pools low in my stomach.
“Hello? Earth to Zoey?”
I startle as Kayla calling my name pulls me back to reality. My gaze rips away from the man with the skeleton face and the body carved out of marble. “Sorry, what?”
“I said, are you ready to find a guy who’s gonna make you forget you ever even knew someone named Will?”
I glance back to the guy with the face paint, momentarily letting my imagination go crazy with thoughts of what it would be like forhimto be the guy to break my dry spell.
But when I see him again, he’s suddenly talking to two girls.
They’re both dressed as angels with halos hanging over their heads, and tiny white dresses so tight that they look painted on. One reaches out and runs the pad of her index finger across Mr. Skeleton’s chest, the other giggling. Both are giving off fuck-me vibes so blatant they can probably be spotted from outer space.
My stomach drops. Of course a guy like him isn’t going to be available for long. If I ever had a chance, there’s no doubt now that I missed it.
Oh, well.
Maybe there aren’t many other six-foot-four walking statues in this bar, but there are still plenty of cute guys. And, no doubt, plenty of guys who are nicer and more interesting than my ex, to boot. In short, plenty of guys who can help me take a big step towards getting over him—for good.
“I think I am,” I answer Kayla’s question, smiling. I down the last of my White Claw in two big, quick gulps—big for me, at least.
As we walk through the bar, Kayla suddenly stops and squeezes my arm. “Hey,” she begins, “that guy over there … do you think he’s looking at me, or someone else?”
She nods to a guy wearing a Greek-style toga a couple yards away. He’s pretty cute, and totally Kayla’s type. And the way she asked that question, her voice heavy with restrained excitement, makes it clear what she wants to answer to be.
“Definitely,” I say. And it’s not a lie. He’s totally making eyes at her. “You know him?”
She nods. “Uh-huh. His name’s Bryan. We have a class together. We’ve talked a couple times.”
I nudge her. “I think he might want to do more than talk tonight.”
Kayla’s cheeks redden and she presses her lips together to hold back a giggle, unsuccessfully. She seems totally into this guy, and I don’t want to be a third wheel that holds her back. I nudge her in his direction.
