Gavin Davis, my crush — and part of the bully-pack I’d endured since my family moved to a snotty self-serving area in middle school — was throwing a Halloween party.
I wasn’t invited, so I decided to crash it.
For years, he put me down to the glee of his girlfriend, Chelsea. Which wouldn’t have bothered me so much if he was always like that, but he wasn’t. There were times when I saw another side to him. It would have been so much easier to hate him if those times didn’t exist
In fact, Gavin’s ridicule only got to me because my interactions with him traversed more than school. His dad was my dad’s boss. His dad hosted work functions for every major American holiday.
I had to attend these functions with my mom and dad. This put me in a position to be alone with Gavin and he wasn’t awful to me. No, worse, he was actively nice to me. Because of that, I let my guard down a few times and allowed him to see glimpses of me I’d never meant to show him.
His dad’s company threw a 4th of July party right before Gavin and I entered our senior year of high school. His mom sent me a dress to wear. It was a perfectly normal dress for a teenager, a halter-style bodice, a sparkly deep navy material. An uncomfortably figure-hugging material on my body. It fell about mid-thigh on me. I’m a short girl. It falling mid-thigh on me meant it was either supposed to be a shirt or someone had it tailored to fall mid-thigh on me.
Dad sighed when I came down with a pair of nice black slacks underneath it with a long-sleeved white sweater covering my arms, “Would it kill you to wear a nice dress for once, Jessica?”
I looked to mom for support and she shrugged, “It was a gift, sweetheart. Mr. Davis sent outfits out to all the kids who would be attending. He might take offense at you altering it.”
“Is there a reason a middle-aged man needs to see my arms and legs, Mom?”
“Just go put on some heavy tights so it at least looks like you aren’t insulted by having to wear a dress most girls would love to have,” she replied.
I changed with great reluctance. I wore thick white tights under the dress. I refused to remove my sweater, but I did agree to push the sleeves up my forearms. Same effect, more effort on my part, whatever.
Even covered, I was uncomfortable. I kept tugging at the skirt to try and pull it down a little further while fussing with the sleeves of my sweater. When we arrived, Mr. Benjamin Davis, Gavin Davis, Mrs. Juliette Davis and Natalia Davis, Gavin’s older sister, were standing at the door, greeting everyone.
Everything was stuffy. I was trying so fucking hard not to scowl when I had to shake hands with Mr. Davis and Gavin then hug Mrs. Davis and Natalia all with an empty smile plastered on my face.
I walked away upon hearing my mother say, “Oh, the dress you sent over for Jessica is beautiful, she absolutely loves it!”
Fucking liar, I smirked.
Followed by Mrs. Davis saying, “It really is, isn’t it? You know I was so surprised that…”
I tuned them out. The only high point of these parties was the amazing food. So, I went searching for the ever-replenishing array of bite-sized nourishment.
Another positive thing about the gatherings: Chelsea was never at them. Mrs. Davis didn’t seem to like her much. Which was why I saw a different side of Gavin while trapped with him.
“Don’t try the pink stuff,” he said, coming up behind me when I finally found my way to the buffet.
He was so close to me when he said it that I jumped, then I scowled.
“Seriously, don’t try it. It doesn’t taste edible.”
I took one of the pink things.
“I’m not joking, you do not want to try that, Jessica.”
And bit into it. “Oh, fuck,” immediate regret washed over my face before I could grab a napkin to spit it into.
He laughed and handed me the much-needed paper receptacle for the disgusting food, “Told ya.”
“It tastes like moldy flowers smell.” I wiped my tongue with the napkin he’d offered.
“Yup.”
“Why would they serve that?”
Gavin smiled, “Oh, they didn’t serve it. I made a nice little powder from dehydrated flowers and sprinkled it on almost everything.” He looked around the party, “I really don’t wanna be here with all of these people. Sabotaging the food seemed like a good way to clear the place early.”
“Is there anything here that you didn’t adulterate so I can get this taste out of my mouth?”
He grabbed a tall glass of a red, white and blue layered drink one of the waiters was carrying on a tray, “Anything on a tray is probably safe,” he handed it to me but didn’t let go of the glass right away.
“You ruined the best part of these parties,” I said, pulling it from him and taking a desperate sip of what tasted like pure sugar with a light cherry after-taste.
“No, I made the best part of these parties come a little faster. Don’t tell me you aren’t anxious for the night to end.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but the food made it tolerable.”
He looked around, my own gaze followed his. We were the only ones over the age of 12 and under the age of 25, “I tried to tell my mom not to send you that dress, by the way. Most of dad’s employees have little kids. She thought it would be a great gesture to include you. She didn’t care what her son had to say on sending a classmate a dress he knew she would hate.”
I tugged on the skirt again, shifting from one foot to the other as I crossed my arms over my stomach, clutching the top of the drink awkwardly, “I don’t hate it. I’m just not comfortable in it.”
Gavin reached out to me, grabbing my arm above my elbow. I winced and jerked away from him, “Don’t touch me,” I said a little louder and sharper than I meant to.
He held his hands up and backed away a couple of steps. Some nearby eyes turned to us. My cheeks were burning and my eyes widened with embarrassment. He seemed offended by my outburst. Gavin grimaced and walked away from me.
I took the layered drink he gave me and went to find a quiet place to sulk. Eventually ending up on the backstairs near the kitchen, where I sipped the tolerable drink while scolding myself for always reacting poorly.
After a while, Gavin walked into the kitchen from the backyard with a pizza in his hands. His shoulders slumped when he saw me. I thought he was going to turn around and walk back out, but he continued over to the counter. With the pizza box dropped on the island, he pulled two of the barstools out. He sat on the one further away from me and flipped the box open.
I went over and sat beside him.
“I didn’t mean to yell at you,” I said.
“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have grabbed you.”
I looked at the pizza, “What’s on it?”
“Not the moldy flower powder.”
I took a slice, and, while it wasn’t my favorite type of pizza, it didn’t taste like a rancid garden. “Thank you,” I said, glancing at him.
“Well, I was starving but no one’s leaving. I rendered the food inedible and it failed miserably,” he said with a laugh.
“Pizza’s better than the stuffy food anyway.”
“No, it’s not.”
I agreed, “No, it’s not. Those crab things are so good, why’d you have to ruin them?”
“Because I wanted people to leave, Jessica. No good food usually means people take off. I underestimated how much people want to suck up to my dad.”
We didn’t talk much, only sat there eating pizza together. Though after he swiped a swig of the drink he’d given me, he snuck off to grab us some drinks from the party that weren’t sugar bombs. The night wore on and eventually they ushered everyone outside for the big display of fireworks. I was leaning back against a tree on the lawn, my ankles and arms crossed while I looked at the sky. Gavin came over next to me and I didn’t complain.
He wasn’t so bad when he wasn’t trying to keep his friends impressed. He leaned back on the tree beside me, mimicking my stance with his arms and ankles crossed and his back pressed to the bark of the thick tree.
I couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like he was watching me. I caught him glancing away from me and back to the sky a couple of times during the show.
Toward the end of the fireworks display, he leaned over to me and pushed my hair away from my face, getting close enough to whisper, “The dress looks nice on you, by the way.” His breath was soft against my ear and I fought off a chill that tingled along the nerves across my neck and down my spine.
And with that, I found myself disgustingly enamored with him while hating myself for it.
Between his dad’s 4th of July party and Halloween, Gavin had changed from the mostly clean-cut executive’s kid to someone I not only had a crush on but was actively attracted to. He went from a couple of tattoos and piercings which were largely hidden, to tattoos scattered along one arm and at least one on his back. He also had some small gauges in his earlobes and a new lip and eyebrow ring, along with the barbell tongue ring he’d had since he was sixteen. His light-brown hair was shoulder-length and perfectly messy, suiting his tall, lithe frame.
He had always been the bad boy of our school; the rich kid who got away with anything, because “Daddy.” He also ran the student hierarchy, with himself on top, of course. The more blatant “bad boy” look enhanced his reputation and gave him more ammo to throw at any other students who dared to emulate his style, even if they had the look before him.
Halloween was my secret weapon. My chance to leave a lasting impression, not only on Gavin but on our entire senior class. And what an impression it would be.
The air was biting, but it was an otherwise beautiful Friday, the 31st of October. The leaves were falling, leaving a carpet of red, orange, yellow and brown. Each bitter wind gust cut across the nearly barren limbs and knocked another scattering of leaves to the ground. I didn’t have time to take in their beauty as I normally would.
I had a mission.
When I stepped into my house, a giddy tingle of anticipation crept through me. I ran to my bedroom to begin my transformative preparation. My first step was to dye my peanut butter brown hair a deep auburn. I went against the box warning and dyed my eyebrows as well. Another layer of protection between myself and my costume.
After a shower to further prep myself for the night I hoped I’d have, I tied my wet hair up with cloth strips close to my head. It was the best way to ensure my hair dried in perfectly formed ringlets. I moved on to the next elements of my costume and couldn’t help but smile.
Chelsea was the attention grabber and I had been the wallflower for the past six years. But that Halloween would be different. Gavin’s party was my night to shine and there was nothing she could do or wear to get in the way of my goal.
What was my goal? Gavin.
My makeup was bold and heavy, a rich royal purple smoked out into a thick black winged eyeliner. My complexion was already nice, but I wanted the perfect model look. I contoured and highlighted, changing the apparent shape of my face with an effective illusion. A bluish-green lipstick topped with a shimmering emerald and violet gloss enhanced the shading of scales I’d dusted around my face and chest.
I shimmied my way into my outfit, which was little more than a corseted bodice zipped up my side and a short, V-shaped skirt where the high points of the V came up to my hips on either side. With body glitter on my chest, arms and legs, my movements created a slight twinkling across my skin. Emerald, light blue, and violet beads and gems on the princess-cut bodice shimmered similarly. Even my posture changed as my costume came together.
The sleeves were little more than decorative blue and emerald silk ribbons draped over my upper arms. Beads of pearls and strands of seaweed decorated my bodice and shoulders. I stepped into the overpriced, designer, purple-velvet high-heeled boots I bought for this outfit and the expense seemed worth it.
I let my hair down and tousled my curls loose into thick beachy waves and spritzed them with a saltwater spray. After putting in violet contacts, I checked myself in a mirror. Pleased with the results, I added a few decorative pieces to my hair and glued some pointed fangs over my eye teeth.
My own nails had grown long and I sharpened — sorry, shaped them into claws. Between the changes to my appearance and posture, I was a different person. Even the way I carried myself was different, standing straight with my shoulders back and chest lifted. My roller derby confidence shone through.
I was certain no one would recognize me, even without a mask.
Besides, no one would be looking at my face. Their attention would be on either my glimmering-in-the-light cleavage or my peek-a-boo legs which emerged from my skirt when I walked.
Beneath the layers of clothes I wore on the regular, I had a toned and athletic body which was only seen through freshman year in Phys Ed. I got my credit and it wasn’t required after my first year, so I had no reason to torture myself further.
Roller derby gave me all the exercise I needed. It was a constant workout for my core, ass and legs. I also trained on heavy bags and speed bags three times a week to keep my ability to defend myself and my team on point.
My name on the track was Sunny Red Fields. Perhaps not the best name, but I liked the Resident Evil game series, Claire Redfield especially, and I wanted a play on her name and a way to include sunflowers. I kept trying to find a way to get a reference to Leon’s name in there, but it never worked out in a way I liked. So, from junior leagues on, I was more comfortable with “Sunny” than “Jessica.”
I pinned a light blue and green, intricately scrolled and decorated Venetian mask into my hair with pearled bobby pins and covered my whole outfit with the thrift store find of an old Soviet Naval-style long black leather coat. Since the intent behind the party was not only Halloween, but Gavin’s birthday, the coat served the dual purpose of hiding my outfit until the big reveal and a gift for him once I removed it. I bought it in his size in an attempt to be the most memorable guest he didn’t invite.
My ride dropped me off down the block. I arrived at the door about an hour after the festivities had begun. Being intentionally late meant truly making an entrance and allowed time for my classmates to have slipped under the influence. I walked inside and took in the various costumes around me with a sweeping gaze.
Someone handed me a drink and I readily sat it on a nearby table. I recognized everyone in the low-effort costumes, but a few classmates had made more effort. It was harder to tell who they were. I walked between people, smiled and mingled, but didn’t speak.
Curtsying my way through our fellow seniors and some college freshmen, I sparked rumors and left curiosity in my wake even as the main event of my costume lay hidden under a heavy coat. After making it to the kitchen, I mixed my own drink and carried it with me while I made my way up the backstairs.
I worked my way through the crowd until I was back in the living room. Gavin was sitting on a couch with some friends. Most party-goers were already flying high, having taken one, or a variety, of the little pills and powders spread over the coffee table. Gavin was in the middle, laughing about something. He seemed clear-headed while I watched him. I doubted he’d indulged in anything beyond a drink at that point.
Approaching him, Gavin glanced up at me. His devil costume was low effort, but quite effective. He was wearing normal clothes, but he’d added some actual FX around his forehead to make it seem as though horns were protruding from his skin. Glued on toilet paper or torn apart cotton balls, maybe? He also had some nice new double fangs, which were noticeable when he smiled.
“I like your jacket,” he yelled at me over the roar of the music.
I smiled and curtsied, pulling up the jacket’s hem and allowing a glimpse of my skirt. I stood back up and curled my finger, tilting my head and beckoning him from the couch. He smirked and put his cup on the coffee table, got up and moved through the crowd toward me. I lured him off to a quieter part of the room. He followed, backing me into the corner I led him to. He appeared pleased, maybe even excited, at having me trapped. I sat my cup on a nearby table and lifted my masked face to him.
I began to unbutton the coat, performing the slow reveal of my costume beneath. His smile grew to match the noticeable bulge which presented itself, even through his jeans. I slid the jacket off my shoulders. He reached out toward me and I moved, dodging his attempted touch with ease even as I slid the jacket onto his arm. He laughed and shook his head, then watched me slink behind him to get his other arm in the jacket.
“What’s your name?” he asked in a more normal tone.
I put my finger to my lips and arched my eyebrow, though he couldn’t see it beneath my mask.
He looked around the room, trying to figure out who I was. “Adriane? Lexi? You’re not Chelsea, she wouldn’t hide her face behind a mask no matter how much it suited the costume.”
I shook my head and crinkled my nose at his guesses.
He moved closer and I backed up, bumping into the table which had my drink on it, causing it to slide off. Gavin caught it before it fell. He leaned over me and I breathed in his scent — an intoxicating mix of old leather, diesel fuel, metal and black pepper.
When he moved to put the drink on the bookshelf his crotch pressed against me. The visual bulge hadn’t done him justice. He didn’t make a move to step away though, so I slid my fingertips up his inner thigh.
He was blushing and his gaze scanned my face rather than my barely covered body. Those eyes of his should have stayed below my neck. Naughty.
He closed his eyes and swallowed hard when I pulled my hand away before I touched his cock. My fingertips slid under his shirt and my hand grasped his hip.
“Who are you?” he asked in such a quiet tone I wasn’t sure if he’d meant for me to hear him.
I moved my other hand to cup his cheek and he grabbed my wrists, pushing them away from him as Chelsea approached us — fury on her face.
“What. The. Fuck?” She yelled when she was certain he had seen her.
He rolled his eyes, “Chels, you broke up with me two weeks ago to fuck Zeke. I don’t even know why you’re here. I didn’t invite you.”
She was in a novelty store angel costume which was little more than white hotpants, a bustier, wings and a halo. She was a little older than the rest of our class after getting held back before I moved there. She liked to flaunt the fact she had matured first, but not the reason why. Though there wasn’t anything mature about her beyond her body and the legal status of her usable orifices.
I was getting the attention she normally did and she didn’t like it one bit. She tried to push past Gavin, but he held his arm out and blocked her path to me. Chelsea was a good six inches taller than me, but somehow I wasn’t scared of her anymore.
“Go home, Chels,” Gavin said, staring her down.
“I wanna know who the slut is,” she countered, grabbing his wrist and trying to get past him.
He looked around, “Looks like you’re the only slut here. Now either get out or go try and make me jealous by fucking whatever desperate lonely soul you can get your claws into.”