What You Always Wanted (17 page)

“My friend Sarah and her boyfriend, Ryan, will be there for sure. She won't tell me what they're going as, but she's really excited about it.”

“Doesn't do me any good if she has a boyfriend. Next.”

I punch his shoulder and the car swerves a little bit, which I'm mostly sure he did on purpose.

“Be nice, I'm driving,” he says, sticking out his tongue. “Next? And don't roll your eyes.”

“Too late.” He knows me well. I clear my throat and continue down the list of people I know will be there. “Well, you'll think
Angela's pretty hot. She's Jesse's sister and the closest thing I have to a best friend. Super tall with nearly black hair, green eyes, naturally tan.”

He nods. “Yes, yes, this night just might be worth the price of my Jedi costume.”

“But she's a sophomore,” I add. “In high school.”

“Aw, come on!” Rider groans. “Shouldn't have expected you to know any cool senior girls.”

My mouth drops open and I overexaggerate my gasp.

“I only meant because you're still new,” he explains, halfheartedly. “So is
Jesse
going to be there?”

“Oh, um . . . maybe.”

I asked him back when I first heard about it, but he wasn't sure if he was going to be hunting this weekend. I can't really see Jesse donning a costume, anyway, with his negative attitude toward anything theatrical. If he does come, he'll probably cheat and wear his baseball uniform or something lame.

“Well, it would be nice to know at least one person there,” he says.

“You do, idiot.” I nudge his arm, carefully this time.

“Plus, I have to make sure his intentions are honorable with my little sister,” he says with a devilish snicker.

I know he's just trying to get a rise out of me, but suddenly I want him to turn the car around and take me back home. I never once said anything to him or anyone about liking Jesse—because I don't—and now Rider's gone and made it a huge thing in his head, which is starting to become a thing in
my
head. And this thing is sure to become an even bigger thing the second he opens his mouth at the party, then everyone is going to be
talking about the same
thing
. He's going to screw up what I have going here. It's what brothers do best.

We park among the other cars in a front pasture of the ranch just as the sun dips behind the tops of the trees. Rider and I walk toward the action near the giant red barn to the left of the house. One by one, a ghost, Superman, a sexy nurse, a vampire, and a sailor climb up onto a trailer piled with mounds of hay.

Wait. A
sailor
?

I glance around near the bonfire and find a handful of guys, all wearing service dress blues, or “crackerjacks,” white hats and all. Boys dressed as sailors! It's one of the hottest sights I've ever seen. The only thing that could top it is if they were actual sailors and not kids from my school.

My feet quicken their pace; I'm anxious to meet these guys with obvious good taste—you can learn a lot about someone's hidden personality on Halloween. My eyes take in all of the gloriousness. The tie, the striped square collar that hangs down over the back, the dark pants that flare at the bottom, tight on the thighs. Those thighs.

I stop abruptly and Rider runs into me. “What?” he asks.

That dark silhouette against the fire. The stance. The posture. The way the hat sits tilted ever so slightly forward on his head. Straight out of the movies.

I think I might hyperventilate. This is the best costume party ever.

The sailor turns to Captain Jack Sparrow next to him and they do a complicated handshake finger-snap thing.

No. No way.

I really am going to hyperventilate.

Rider nudges me forward and before I know it, I'm standing face-to-face with Jesse Morales, in full sailor garb. The golden sunlight splashing on his face combined with the orange glow of the fire reflecting in his eyes. His
legs
in those tight pants. I die.

He's gorgeous.

My brain.

Can't. Look. Away.

So
glad he didn't go hunting.

“It's Dorothy,” Jesse says, keeping my gaze locked on his with that evil smirk.

Rider shakes his hand before subtly nudging me with his elbow. I blink back to reality. It's just Jesse. I see him every day.

Not dressed like that, you don't
.

Red, or Captain Jack, snatches the basket from my hands and pulls out the toy dog. “You call this thing Toto? It's a hamster.” He attempts to tie it up within his long dreadlocks.

I take it back and place my fingers over its ears. “Shh. He's sensitive.”

Jesse laughs, and I get a tingling sensation down the back of my neck.

But that's just stupid.

I distract myself by turning away from him and introducing Rider to the people around us who I actually know. It doesn't take long for all the girls on the property to smell the presence of a college man. He's whisked away to play horseshoes with four cheerleaders, vampire number two, and Barbie—senior girls I've only passed in the halls at school. I don't expect to see him again until it's time to leave.

Screams followed by laughter echo through the trees from the hayride. I fight against a shiver just as Angela and Tiffany walk up in matching pink poodle skirts and saddle shoes. Tiffany cinches her high ponytail, as she always does, and I tease her for coordinating her costume around her usual hairstyle.

“Holy whoa,” Tiffany exclaims, ignoring my remark. “Is Red wearing eyeliner?”

“I thought you were into the Frank Sinatra types now,” Angela says, crossing her arms low over her stomach. “We joined the Teens for Classic Movies Club and everything.”

My heart leaps, I'm ecstatic they still want to make the club a real thing. We've discussed meeting once or twice a month at the Moraleses' to screen old movies, maybe even advertising it at school to see who else is interested.

“Please. Be realistic. There are no Franks these days.” Tiffany keeps her eyes trained on Red, at the other side of the fire, roasting a marshmallow on a stick. “You've seen those pirate movies. You tell me that eyeliner on guys isn't hot.” She licks her lips. “You know you want to talk to him.”

“It's just Red,” Angela huffs. She follows Tiffany's gaze and swallows. “I talk to him all the time.”

I clear my throat. “Well, the makeup works in pirate movies, but not for real-life, everyday wear,” I say, fixing Tiffany's skirt so the poodle isn't hidden in a fold.

“But this isn't a real day,” she protests. “It's Halloween. Anything goes on Halloween.”

Red chooses this exact moment to head our way, so Tiffany leans in close to Angela and quickly says, “If you're not going to go for it, I am.”

“Do whatever you want,” she shoots back.

A few charms dangling from his wig jingle like bells. I'll admit, the dark eyes shadowed under the hat . . . it's not a bad look. Though it doesn't beat a sailor.

“Hey, kid,” Red says to Angela, who doesn't return the smile. “And Tiffany Barrett, nice costume.”

I refrain from pointing out that Angela is dressed exactly the same.

“Yours is better,” Tiffany says, running a hand along the fabric hanging from the belt at Red's waist.

The hayride comes back and everyone climbs down, giggling and making fun of each other for being scared.

Tiffany hooks onto Red's arm, pointing to the trailer pulled by an enormous green truck. “Take me on the hayride?”

He laughs but doesn't push her away. I can't tell in the fading light, but he might be blushing the tiniest bit on the tips of his cheeks.

I'm hyperaware of Angela's tense posture, even as she sits down at the picnic table near the fire.

“Next riders,” someone shouts, “load up!”

“Okay, let's go,” Red says, leading Tiffany away. “Anyone else coming?” he asks before they get too far.

“You should go,” Jesse says, suddenly next to me. The tiny scar on his cheek is the first place my eyes go every time I look at him now. “Mr. Lyle and his neighbors put a lot of work into it. It's cheesy but something to do. You always like the hayrides, Angela.”

She grabs a skewer and threads a few marshmallows onto it, then holds them over the fire. “I'll go later.”

“Well, I'm not going by myself,” I say. “I'll wait.”

“Mmmm, just go now.” Angela doesn't look up from her dessert, which is now burning. She blows out the flame and pokes at the charred black crust. “I don't know how long I want to stay. I'm tired.”

“I'll take you,” Jesse says, extending his arm toward me. For a second I think he's waiting for me to take his hand, but he's reaching for my basket to leave it with Angela.

I'm ashamed to say, I'm a little disappointed.

Getting up into the trailer is quite the feat. It's not a flat trailer sensibly lined with rows of neatly packed hay bales; it's a four-sided pit filled with mounds of loose hay. Red helps pull me up over the back gate while Jesse shoves me from behind. And by “behind” I mean my actual behind. His hands are
on
my butt. Well, close enough to freak me out.

When I make it to the top, my glittery boots sink into the hay so I sort of fling myself off to the side, making room for Jesse to climb up after me. I prepare for uncontrollable sneezing, but so far I'm allergy-free tonight. Red plunks down next to Tiffany on the other side of a mound, where I lose visual, and another couple is getting awfully friendly up near the front. I do a double take and realize that it's Sarah and Ryan dressed as Fred and Wilma Flintstone.

I fight a smile and twist my body so I'm facing the back. I won't be able to see what's coming, but this way I can experience the frights after everyone else has already reacted to them, hopefully avoiding looking like a total wimp.

The truck takes off, and the trailer lurches. To keep from sliding, I brace myself with my hands, one of them clutching a wad of hay, the other . . . mostly Jesse's leg.

“Sorry,” I say quickly, turning my face from him.

He just laughs, and we're pulled under the dark canopy of pines. The deeper we go into the woods, the more I dread what's coming. Tiffany lets out a yelp at nothing—probably Red—but I jump anyway. Thanks to a string of orange-and-purple lights over our heads, I'm not completely blind, but I still find myself nestling farther into the hay, out of the chill in the breeze, and maybe a smidge closer to Jesse . . . for protection.

No. I scoot away. Rider is in my head. I am not attracted to Jesse like that. He's not what I want.

Even if he is wearing dress blues right this minute. It's like he reached into my brain and extracted the very thing I'd want to see someone in tonight.

The girls behind me scream, and I sit upright, stifling a cry of my own when we pass two figures with wolf heads and claws, snarling and growling in front of a strobe light. More screaming follows and skeletons hang from low branches. Glowing ghosts weave in and out of the trees all around us. Flashing red eyes over there, now over
there
. A howl that may or may not be part of a sound-effects track carries through the air. A raggedy child under a spotlight clutching a teddy bear. Most of it isn't particularly violent, just extremely creepy.

I shut my eyes and the illuminated images are burned into my mind, swirling around all together.

“Are you actually scared?” Jesse asks quietly, breath warm on my neck. “It's cheesy, right?”

“I know,” I say, straightening my skirt to cover more of my legs. “But I know how my brain works. It's still spooky enough to get stuck in my head and give me nightmares.”

“We don't have to look.” He pulls down the white cap behind his head and leans back against the hay.

I copy him, shifting to separate our shoulders, but a dip in the hay keeps the sides of our bodies pressed together. He doesn't move, so I stop trying to adjust. Sarah and Tiffany let out squeals once in a while, but I'm happily ignoring all of it, watching the tiny lightbulbs bob on the strand overhead.

I wanted to get Jesse alone. With the rest of the gang out of earshot on the other side of our mound, this is my chance to grill him.

“So, why didn't you introduce me to your . . . girlfriend?”

He doesn't miss a beat. “What girlfriend might this be?”

“Gabby,” I nearly snap. “Don't play dumb with me.”

“What makes you think she's my girlfriend? She's not.”

I pick at a piece of hay and start tearing it into little pieces. “And I'm still not worth an introduction at the homecoming dance?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You just walked away from me. You grabbed her hand, and you left me standing there when I thought we were in the middle of a conversation.”

“That's why you've been so weird lately?” He bends his knees, half crossing one leg over the other at the ankle. “Why the heck did you wait so long to talk to me about it if it was bothering you so bad?”

“What do you mean, I've been
weird
?”

“In class, on the way home from school. You're different. Not as . . . chatty as you used to be.”

“I guess I should be glad you actually noticed something about me,” I mutter.

He props himself up on an elbow, facing me, so I move to face him. “I notice you.”

I lick my lips in preparation to reply, and his eyes slip to my mouth.

“I didn't mean it like that,” I say, lying back down to keep from looking at
his
lips. “I just thought we were friends, and sometimes I don't feel like you want that.”

Jesse exhales and lies with his arms crossed beneath his head. “I didn't introduce you to Gabby because I didn't think about it. But she doesn't really need to meet my friends, anyway.”