Page 124 of Hockey Halloween
“It is my house,” Toby declares.
“But I’m making all the food,” Ligaya states. She clasps her hands in front of her in a pose of mock contrition. “So sorry, Tristan, but we didn’t account for extra invites. Maybe next year.” She says it in the same tone as someone would saymaybe when pigs fly.
“Don’t listen to her. We always make too much food. It’ll be fun. Costumes, drinks. And maybe more bad decisions, if we’re lucky,” he insinuates with wiggling brows.
“I remember Ligaya doing a very convincing impersonation of a drunk sailor at a party,” I say, recalling the summer gathering that launched our senior year prank war.
To be fair, my first trick was not ill-intentioned. She was into some guy whose name I can’t remember but I knew was an asshole. He would have broken her heart. I impersonated him in a letter so she could see what a fuckboy he was.
Before I could explain myself, Ligaya had already snuck a nasty spider in my locker. OK, it was fake, but my scream wasn’t.
My point is, Ligaya is the one who turned an innocent prank into a vendetta.
Honestly, it was fun at first.
Until it wasn’t.
“You have the memory of a maggot. Maybe get a doctor to check on that,” she retorts.
“My memory is impeccable, but thanks for always looking out for me,” I deadpan. “I’d love to attend your party, Toby. Just so happens there’s no hockey game that night.”
Although I already have a Halloween event next Saturday, this one sounds more interesting. It has a theme, after all. And a woman I’d like to kiss again.
The memory of Ligaya moaning into my mouth woke me up to a raging hard-on this morning.
“Perfect!” Toby exclaims. “Since you’re already here, you should have dinner with us. Ligaya and I always grab the two-for-one special at Moretti’s on Thursday nights.”
Ligaya’s eyes flick to Toby, back to me, and then back to her friend in an eyeball tennis match as she decides who to blame for my presence at dinner.
“Or not,” she says. “It only works with an even number of people, after all.”
“I’d love to,” I tell Toby.
“We’ll meet you there,” Toby announces. “Her car’s in the shop, so we carpooled today.”
Moretti’s is packed, the smell of garlic and fresh bread hitting me as soon as I walk in. My eyes immediately land on Ligaya. She’s removed her sweater and is in a fitted black shirt, her dark hair spilling over one shoulder.
When she sees me, she makes two swipes across her forehead. The barely noticeable tick once again draws my attention to her smooth forehead and dainty fingers.
Toby’s sitting across from her. As I approach, he stands up.
“I’m not feeling great,” he claims, pressing a hand to his stomach like a twelve-year-old faking a stomachache to skip school.
Ligaya looks up, frowning. “You were fine five minutes ago.”
“Yeah, well. Life’s unpredictable.” He grabs his coat, then claps me on the shoulder as he passes.
“I guess I’ll go, too,” Ligaya says, “seeing as you’re my ride.”
“I’ll take you home.” My voice is louder than intended.
“I’m not feeling well, and I don’t want to get you sick in case I’m contagious,” Toby says to Ligaya. “You two enjoy dinner. If you’re ordering the garlic knots, make sure you both eat it.”
He walks off, leaving behind a half-full glass of water and an awkward silence. Ligaya shakes her head.
“That was not subtle.”
“Nope.” I slide into the booth across from her.
