Page 13 of Side Out

But then again… it wouldn’t be an obsession if it was healthy.

Real Life - The Weeknd

CHAPTER9

RUN

THEODORE

Like the obsessed man I’ve become, I’m spending my morning staring out my front window, staring at the eerily-quiet house across the street. I’m on my second cup of coffee with my favorite salted-caramel creamer, and I don’t have the urge to move any time soon.

Emerson suddenly pops out their front door. Not the man I was looking for, but at least it’s something. My eyes stray to the piles of Halloween decorations in his hands.

Fuck.

It suddenly dawns on me what day it is. The Saturday before Halloween.

They’re throwing another party—I can feel it in my bones.

Because the last party went over so well for me.

At least Bridget won’t be here. She hasn’t been all week, but what else is new? I couldn’t even tell you where she is, but I remember her saying she needed her passport. I zoned out after that, though. However, I do know that she’ll be gone for at least another week. If not longer.

All I want to see is Jackson. It’s been too long. I’ve been fighting this whole month with myself to put distance between us. I stopped following him into school, stopped watching out my window, and have been actively avoiding him when I see him on the school grounds or in any of the practice facilities.

And it’s only made what feels like a gaping hole in my chest even bigger.

As the day goes on, I see more and more people heading into the Bakers’ house while I’m doing my weekly chores around my own house, looking across the street any chance I get.

I go downstairs to put away a suitcase that Bridget decided not to use for this trip and left out. And out of the corner of my eye, I spot my bin of Halloween decorations I clearly forgot to put out this year. And next to that bin… the one filled with all of my old costumes. I stare at it for what feels like hours, contemplating every possible scenario, before I finally make my decision.

Fuck it.

I decide right here and now that I’ll be crashing that party whether they like it or not.

I need my eyes on Jackson Baker.

* * *

Despite the usual stifling Florida air, it’s finally starting to feel a little like fall. And thank god because the sweltering heat would’ve had me sweating like a whore in church beneath this full-face skull mask.

It’s just before midnight when I finally grow the balls to walk out my back door, lock it, and slide my keys into my back pocket. The last thing I need is someone’s door camera capturing footage of me in this get-up walking over to the party. So I follow my privacy fence that leads down my driveway, and, as stealthy as possible, move to the sidewalk. Then, like the true fucking creep I am, I walk over to Jax’s house and make my way to the backyard where most of the noise seems to be coming from.

Correction, the music is booming inside the house, but the sounds of laughter and fun echo in the backyard. There’s a small bonfire going, groups of people talking, and guys holding each other up doing keg stands.

Nice to see some college traditions never die.

“Oh my fucking god, yeeesss, we have another masked man here. I love Halloween,” some girl screams, as she runs up to me with her hands out.

“Stop!” I throw my hands up and back away from her like she’s a rabies-infested animal.

“Playing hard to get? I like it.” She twirls her hair around her fingers and bites her bottom lip.

My eyes roll so hard I fear they might get stuck in my skull. “Do you know where Jax is?”

Confusion and disappointment take over her face before she throws her thumb over her shoulder and says, “I just saw him inside on the dance floor a couple minutes ago with Clay. But you don?—”

I cut her off, sidestepping and spinning around her grabby hands to make my way inside. “Thanks!”

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