Chapterish 26

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10:59 PM

It's an hour into the pregame when I fish my phone out of my cleavage (this cat suit doesn't call for pockets). I am greeted by a blank screen. No calls, no texts, no noti's of any kind. This doesn't surprise me, but still. I put my glass on the ledge next to the bar and open my phone.

It's loud on the media scene tonight. Haunted hayrides and house parties and who-can-be-the-sluttiest costume contests are going on all across the US.

I click on the mini face of Trix and see what she's up to. It looks like a party is going on at Travis's. Trix actually is dressed up like a mermaid and Travis some fancy prince with a cigarette wedged between his lips, smiling at the camera. What a selfie. Meg and Nate look like Romeo and Juliet wannabes. Alex is a rock star in a leather jacket, electric guitar hanging from his shoulder.

Man, I miss Travis's deck on Back Bay. I'm homesick for New Jersey. EW.

Someone is absent from all these pics. Not surprising, since I know he's back in NC. I fight with myself for 10 seconds before I find myself on his page. No new activity, not tonight anyway. Looking at his face, I can't believe it's been so long.

I haven't seen him in almost two months.

I don't care.

Still, blood martini #3 is V much tempting me to message him like a dutiful ex-lover drunk on Halloween. No. I can't let what he is doing determine what I am doing. I need to do things for me. I finish #3 for me.

I search for Zoë and find her in the kitchen with Sophie.  She's leaning against the counter top, next to Bryan. He's her boy toy for lack of a more distinguished description.

"Heey!" She says, smiling when I stop in front of her. "Em, here try this." Zoë puts a plastic cup in my hand. I see bright blood red in the cup. Must be the brew.

"Shit. That's good shit," I say taking the cup from my lips. It tastes like raspberry Jell-O with vodka and rich chocolate. I don't think there's actually any chocolate.

"Isn't it?" Zoë laughs. "Hey are you almost ready, cat?"

"Ready cat," I say and nod my head. I sway slightly into the countertop myself. Zoe laughs at me.

"A group of us are going to the party soon. The one down town," she clarifies, like this is a party too, not a pregame.

"Whenev-ur you-want." I'm starting to slur. I'm at that line. You know, the one in your head If I have one more sip, then I'm definitely drunk. Point of no return line.

"Let's finish our drinks," she says and turns back to Bryan. He finishes his cup first.

I finish mine last, giggling to myself as I put it back on the counter and thank Sophie for her 'pregame'.

We are halfway to the door with four or five other people (a Barbie, a princess and I think the NBA players).

"Wait!" Zoë says, grabbing my hand and yanking me away from the door.

"Whaaaaat cat?" I laugh, almost tripping over my heels. I flash to seeing Trix try to walk on sand and smile to myself. Miss my mermaid.

"We need a pic. C'mon," she says, still pulling me sideways. She drops my hand in front of the glass windows. They're almost crystalized now from the fog and the cool air outside. A cobweb hangs above our heads, flickering in the strobes.

"Take a video," Zoë instructs, taking the phone from my hand and shoving it into Bryan's.

"Let's hug and turn," she tells me. I nod and follow her lead.

We start hugging, our fronts completely against each other and then we turn to Bryan, to the camera, to our media followers. Zoë roars and makes a fake clawing motion with her hand and nails. I'm not so in-character. I panic and blow a kiss to the camera. 

I know. EW. How very pleasant of me. I blame the boos (booze but boo, see what I did thurrr).

"Here," Bryan says, handing back my phone to me. Zoë is already trying to usher us back to the door.

"Let's go!" She yells at the group.

I follow her toward the door, but look at my phone. I can't help it. I've been conditioned. I look at the 3-second video that plays on a loop.

You can really see the strobes –our faces like dark ghosts in the shadows flickering to life under the white. HOLY TITS. What a mf video. When we hug sideways, our waists disappear underneath each other's hands. Our butts stick out in the way only leather bodysuits can allow. The 4" heels are advertising legs for days.

"Emmy, comeonnnn!" Zoë shouts from the door.

"Coming!"

I shake my head and press the tiny square button on the corner of the pic. It's added. I can't keep the smile from my face when I think I hope he sees this. Just kidding, I can. I lose the smile when I remember how basic I am, how basic I'm acting. Posting a #hotgirlhalloween pic and just HOPING Brooks will see it. At least I'm in the company of every other woman, ever.

EYE. ROLL.

FUCK. IT.

I lock my phone and put it back down my shirt, determined not to look at it again the rest of the night. I will have plenty of time tomorrow to check if he saw my strobe-lit self.

The party is five blocks away and it's so cold I'm blessing my past self for having picked the bodysuit with sleeves. Zoë is busy falling all over Bryan and Barbie is locking lips with a bball player. Don't tell Ken. My mind is already wandering back to my post. Well, it won't hurt to just look at it, right?

I pull out my phone again and my heart races. Right there on my lock screen is an unopened message. Even his written name looks good. Even his name makes me want to explode. I swipe open and read.

Emmy... answer

Emmy answer? He hasn't texted or called or tried to communicate via any way since this morning and this is what I get? Answer what? He didn't even say anything!

I want to respond but I'm distracted by Barbie and NBA Ken. My phone buzzes again with a new message.

Rr u drunk?

ARE U? I type aggressively.

...

r u goin out?

ALREADY OUT Take that, Brooks.

...

I love the idea that he is jealous I am out. I love that he's thinking of me being out. I also just love him, but that's irrelevant right now.

My phone buzzes again.

Better not b drunk dressed lik that

WHAT? That mf, is he kidding me? Here he goes, being all possessive and rude Brooks again.

Long sleeves! Legit could not b wearing mor clothes!!!

...

who r u with

The nerve. I look behind me at Zoë all over Bryan. Next to me at the other couple. Ahead of us are the other bball guys, wearing jerseys. I'm inspired. I catch up with them, my heels clicking against the pavement as I walk.

"Hey, guys! Selfie?" I hold up my phone.

I notice up close that they are both kinda cute. One has dark skin, hair, eyes, everything. The other one is fair with light, sandy-colored hair. This is the first time tonight I am really paying any attention to them. It's really a testament to the culture today that while they both just look at me like I'm crazy, they don't question it. Don't question me, the girl they've never met, asking to take a picture with them.

I position myself in the middle and point my phone at us.

Snap.

"Thanks!" I say and retreat back to my lonely spot on the pavement. Literally, I'm a whack.

The photo is great though. It'll do its job. I open my profile page and send the pic as a message privately to Brooks. I caption it made new friends. Man, I'm a petty bitch.

I feel all tingly and anxious when I hit SEND. But serves him right, acting like some prehistoric caveman questioning my behavior. 'R U drunk?' and 'Who r u with' like really, does he think I haven't been drunk since the summer? Does he think I haven't gone out since the carnival?

Nothing. Radio silence. No new buzz, no ding, no message noti pop up. Great.

I wonder if it will be another three weeks before I hear anything from him. Maybe another nine years. I shake myself back to the street. I almost smack into Zoë when she stops in front of me at the bar.

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