I got the strangest feeling last night that he has a more serious reason for hating Halloween rather than just “it’s a pointless holiday.” Maybe something terrible happened to him many moons ago on Halloween night, like he got egged by hooligans when he was a kid. Oooh, or maybe he watched Halloween and was then plagued with nightmares that lasted for weeks, which is what happened to me when I watched my first and only Michael Myers movie at the age of twelve.

“Anyway, Sean’s waiting for me downstairs, so I’m taking off now.” Allie pops over and smacks a huge kiss on my cheek. “Have fun handing out drinks with Tracy.”

Yeah, right. I’m already regretting agreeing to help Tracy with the dorm crawl. I’m not in the mood to wait around all night for drunken college kids to wander into Bristol House so I can hand them drinks and Jell-O shooters. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I’m tempted to back out, especially when I picture Garrett at home by himself, scowling at his reflection in the mirror or throwing a tennis ball against the wall like they do in prison.

Rather than continue my search for a non-costume costume, I duck out of my dorm and walk across the hall to knock on Tracy’s door.

“Coming!” She appears nearly a minute later, running a comb through her curly red hair with one hand and applying white powder to her cheeks with the other.

“Hey,” she chirps. “Happy Halloween!”

“Happy Halloween.” I pause. “So listen…how badly will you hate me if I bail on the dorm crawl? And then when I add insult to injury and ask to borrow your car?”

Disappointment floods her eyes. “You’re not coming? Whhhhhhy?”

Shit, I really hope she doesn’t start crying. Tracy is the kind of girl who bawls at the drop of a hat, though in all honesty, I think her tears are of the crocodile variety because they always dry up way too fast.

“A friend of mine is having a bad night,” I say awkwardly. “He could use the company.”

She gives me a suspicious look. “And does this friend go by the name Garrett Graham?”

I smother a sigh. “Why would you think that?”

“Because Allie said you guys are dating.”

Of course she did.

“We’re not dating, but yes, he’s the friend I’m talking about,” I admit.

To my surprise, Tracy breaks out in a huge grin. “Well, why didn’t you lead with that, dum-dum? Of course I’m going to let you off the hook if it means you get to go and fuck Garrett Graham! Note to you—I will be living vicariously through you, because Oh. My. God. If that hottie so much as smiled at me, my panties would probably melt away.”

I don’t want to touch even a single part of that response, so I ignore it altogether. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She waves a hand. “My cousin is visiting from Brown, so I’ll just recruit her.”

“I heard that!” a female voice shouts from inside the room.

“Thanks for being so cool about this,” I say gratefully.

“No prob. Hold on a sec.” Tracy disappears, then comes back a moment later with her car keys dangling from her index finger. “Hey, so I don’t know how you feel about sex tapes, but if you get a chance, record every single thing you do with that boy tonight.”

“I most definitely will not.” I take the keys and grin at her. “Have fun tonight, babe.”

Back in my room, I grab my phone from the living room couch and text Garrett.

Me: U home?

Him: Yup.

Me: Bailing on the dorm crawl. Can I come by?

Him: Glad u came to your senses, baby. Get your ass over here.

29

Garrett

When the front door creaks open, I’m more than a little apprehensive, because I half expect Hannah to appear in some ridiculous-ass costume in an attempt to spread the Halloween cheer and lure me to that dorm party.

Fortunately, she looks like regular-old Hannah when she pops her head into the living room. Meaning she looks fucking gorgeous, and my dick immediately salutes her. Her hair is tied in a low ponytail with her bangs swept to one side, and she’s wearing a loose red sweater and black yoga pants. Her socks, of course, are neon pink.

“Hey.” She flops down beside me on the couch.

“Hey.” I sling my arm around her and plant a kiss on her cheek, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

I have no idea if I’m the only one feeling this way, but Hannah doesn’t pull away, nor does she tease me about how fucking boyfriendly I’m acting. I take that as a promising sign.

“So why’d you flake out on the party?”

“I wasn’t in the mood. I kept picturing you crying here alone and pity won out.”

“I’m not crying, jackass.” I point to the boring-ass milk documentary that’s flashing on the TV screen. “I’m learning about pasteurization.”

She stares at me. “You guys pay money to subscribe to a gazillion channels and this is what you choose to watch?”

“Well, I flipped by it and saw a bunch of cow udders, and, well, you know, it turned me on, so—”

“EW!”

I burst out laughing. “Kidding, babe. If you must know, the batteries in the remote died and I was too lazy to get up and change the channel. I was watching this wicked-awesome miniseries about the Civil War before cow udders came on.”

“You’re really into history, huh?”