Page 3 of EverGreene
I looked down at the drink in my hand and shook my head. “That won’t be necessary.”
“You’re so innocent.” She smiled, pointing at me. “We’ll change that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see how big of a lightsaber my mystery man over there is packing.”
Just as quickly as she appeared, Katy turned on her heels, disappearing into the crowd like a ship in the fog. She may be getting lucky, but as for me, it would be yet another night with my battery-operated boyfriend waiting patiently for me in my nightstand drawer.
I opened the sliding door and stepped inside Katy and Jem’s small dining room, made all the more cramped by partygoers who’d crammed inside to escape the cold. Overwhelmed,I scootched around inebriated vampires, zombies, and guests in various states of undress, careful not to accost them with the blue and green plume of feathers that adorned my ass. An opening appeared as I neared the kitchen, and I took advantage of it, seeking refuge near the sink and setting my red Solo cup down on the counter. The party and the crowds that all parties inherently attract had been a bit too much for me, and my reintroduction to having a social life again. If I had been smart, I would have started out smaller, like one of those wine-and-canvas events that seemed to be popular around here.
Yes, booze and a shitty painting I would just chuck into a dumpster on my way back to my car would have been a much better, far less anxiety-inducing way to go. Letting out a sigh, my hands ran across the surface of the gray laminate countertops in Katy’s kitchen. The color reminded me of the clouds that seemed prevalent here this time of year, and I closed my eyes, practicing the breathing exercises my former counselor had taught me. Mindfulness techniques were intended to suppress even the darkest of intrusive thoughts. Even ones as pitch black as mine.
With one last exhale, I opened my eyes, suddenly acutely aware that I wasn’t alone anymore. Someone was standing behind me, and for the first time in a long time, I knew it wasn’t my paranoia playing tricks on me. Fuck me, had the Phantom of the Shire followed me in here with some retort his reptilian brain had finally formulated, or was there someone here just dying to take advantage of a woman they thought was inebriated to the point of vulnerability? Either way, they were about to rethink the thoughts that were percolating inside their brain.
A knife block sat on the counter within arm’s reach of me. Stainless steel handles beckoned to me like deadly beacons. Before I could second-guess myself, my hand darted for thenearest handle, freeing one of the blades from its wooden casing.
“You know, I didn’t have castration on my agenda tonight, but I also didn’t plan on dressing up as a male bird, so I guess you can call me Miss Spontan—” I whirled around, expecting to come face-to-face with my would-be stalker, only to be silenced by the hint of a broad, bare chest exposed by the portion of a zip-up hoodie that was perhaps strategically left unzipped for my viewing pleasure. I gripped the handle of the knife tighter in my hand, overcorrecting my momentarily faltering grip as my eyes followed smooth, tan skin covering toned musculature etched with the hint of ink. My eyes continued their nonverbal objectification, traveling until they rested on the masked face of the man who had found his way into the kitchen with me. The hood of his black hoodie had been pulled over his head, reminding me of the Grim Reaper, if the Grim Reaper decided to step aside from the whole death thing to pursue a career as a thirst trap.
Who is he?I searched the masked face for any distinguishing features that would point me to his identity. Pitch black like the hood he was wearing, the mask left little to be discerned aside from what appeared to be cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, accentuated by red lines that wound themselves at various intervals around its perimeter. Even the man’s eyes were covered by a thin layer of fabric in the same brilliant, bloody shade of red, acting like a one-way mirror. He could see me, but I couldn’t see him, and I hated myself for how flushed it was making me.
Katy and Jem’s condo was often Grand Central, with a little bit of everyone from town coming and going. There were a few regulars who crossed my path in the time I’d been friends with Katy, but this guy—this masked man looming before me like some goddamned Titan—hadn’t been one of them.
“Creeping up on someone in a kitchen like a serial killer is a good way to get shanked. Just for future reference.” Heart still racing, I stared into the eyes of the mask as every ounce of self-preservation left my body. Fifteen-year-old Ever, the one who knew every episode ofForensic Filesby heart, would be so disappointed in adult Ever’s life choices right now. “Next time, you may want to pick a room without so many pointy objects.”
I expected the man to say something. Most likely something misogynistic that would dry up my vagina like the Sahara, but curiously, he remained silent.
“Can you speak?” I asked, feeling a pang of guilt because maybe he couldn’t speak, and my calling him out had just made me an ableist asshole.
To my surprise—and relief—the man nodded.
“Are you going to speak to me?”
Blood red eyes never left mine as he shook his head.
“Staying in character, then. I applaud your commitment to your craft.” Always one to talk with my hands, I punctuated each word with a wave of the knife, much like the Fairy Godmother inCinderella—if said Fairy Godmother smelled of cheap beer and desperation sprinkled with a hint of Lady Speed Stick.
The man in front of me stiffened, carefully holding up his hands, which were fitted with a pair of black gloves. Slowly, he bent the index finger on his left hand, pointing at the knife before he gingerly lowered his arm and plucked the blade from my grip between two of his fingers, setting it down on the counter behind him.
“Not into the kinky stuff, I see.” I grinned. My eyes skirted down the stranger’s body to his black jeans that hugged his legs so tightly they made me a bit envious, down to his red sneakers that were the same shade of crimson as the detailing in his mask. He looked like he spent his day doing squats forfun. “That’s okay, I usually save knife play for the second date, anyway.” I couldn’t be sure, but I almost swore I heard him emit a sharp exhale from underneath his mask. “Am I making you uncomfortable? Do you want me to leave?”
I moved to turn and walk from the kitchen, making it only a step before a gloved hand grabbed me by the arm and spun me back around. The man shook his head, taking a step closer to me, his shrouded face looming over mine.
Holy shit. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this turned on—and this confused. I shouldn’t want this, some enigmatic rando who wouldn’t even speak to me—which somehow made this even hotter? Fuck. What was wrong with me? I came here willing to pluck some former frat boy who’d peaked in high school from the crowd to scratch an itch, but here I was finding myself in front of a walking red flag with an aching in my body I’d not felt in quite a long time.
The silent man let go of my arm, but the sensation of his leather-clad fingers on my skin lingered as though imprinted on me. “As much as I would love to stand here and stare at each other wordlessly all night, I have a proposition for you.”
I half-expected him to break character or at least cock his head to the side as it couldn’t be every day that he was solicited by a woman dressed as a pretentious bird. Instead, he stood firmly resolute, almost as though he was waiting patiently for what I was about to say. His attention was completely rapt, and I never knew someone paying attention to me could be so hot.
“Look, despite what Spirit Halloween would have the public believe, I find it hard to swallow that anyone would look at a scantily clad bird and think to themselves,Yeah, I’d tap that, and I would totally not fault you for shutting me down, but in the words of Rose fromTitanic, ‘It’s been eighty-four years since I’ve gotten laid, and I would very much like to getback in that saddle again.’ Figuratively and literally at this point—if you’re into that.”
I don’t know why I expected him to react to the word salad I just threw at him, but his continued silence did nothing to quell the abject humiliation that overcame me. A smart person in my position would bid him adieu, pack it in, and move to a different country to start a new life at this point in the conversation. However, I, Everleigh Moore, chose to double down instead. Because why the fuck not?
“I—I know this may sound weird. I mean, unless you routinely do one-night stands. I’m kind of new to them, personally. And this is something I wouldn’t normally do, and I assure you, I’m clean. Like squeaky clean. This vagina is STD free.” Like it had a mind of its own, my hand swung down to the vicinity of my vajayjay, motioning at it like we were on thePrice Is Rightand I was a model showing the contestants what they could win.
Shoot. Me. Now.
The masked man crossed his arms in front of him, leaning one hip against the counter, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t catch the whisper of a smirk underneath his mask.
Flushed, I knew I had turned fifty shades of red. “You know what, this was a bad idea. I’m just going to back out of here, and?—”
Before I could finish my sentence, the man held his hand up like an old-timey traffic control officer, stopping me. With that same hand, he crooked a finger, pointing at the drink I’d set down on the counter.
