Page 176 of Devils' Day Party
“I enjoyed it,” Calix says as I look over and meet his eyes, a sharpness arcing through me as I remember our breakfast at the Mud Street Café and our subsequent tryst in Michael's room. I swear, when we were in there today, and I met Calix's eyes, something strange passed between us. That feeling, it can't be faked or manufactured. In his own way, he remembers. “Besides, it's Halloween. Don't be an asshole, Raz.”
Raz narrows his red eyes on Calix as Barron sits down and flips his sketchbook open. I admire that, the way he falls into his work at every available opportunity. I'm learning from his dedication. I mean, that's not the only thing I'm learning from Barron Farrar, but the rest of his lessons are a bit darker, a bit more sensual.
“Seriously, do you believe in that shit, Lix? Ghosts and faeries and crap.”
“He might not, but I do,” I say as I grin and then head up the wide stone steps, using the code to let us in the deck-side door. The boys follow after me, stepping into the dark house as I turn on all the lights, filling the place with warmth.
“You really do?” Barron asks, carrying several reusable grocery bags into the kitchen, filled with the food we picked up at the store yesterday. We're going to need it, considering that we'll be staying here for the next week; the moms’ trailer is not big enough for me and my three boyfriends. I almost choke on laughter at the thought of them staying with Jane and Cathy; it wouldn’t go well for long. “Believe in faeries and ghosts and shit?”
How could I not, after everything that happened to me?
“Sometimes things happen that we can't explain,” I tell him, helping to unload the groceries. Calix and Raz spend the time arguing with each other instead, but that's alright. They have their own issues to work on.
When I start a pot of coffee, Raz finally gives up and moves into the kitchen, pausing near the peninsula and putting his palms on the epoxied brick surface. His eyes widen as I glance over at him, the bag of coffee grounds in my hands. We look at each other and something passes between us, a fragment of memory that'll never truly be lost, not so long as I keep it in my heart.
“I'm never doing a ghost tour again,” he murmurs, but I just laugh as he slips out the door with Barron to light up some joints.
“There was something else I wanted to say to you tonight,” Calix starts, coming into the kitchen to stand beside me. He leans back against the counter, his velvet doublet unbuttoned, his leather pants low-slung enough that there's a bit of a sexy gap between the top of his waistband and the bottom of his shirt. I appreciate the boys wearing their Devils' Day costumes tonight, truly. It felt … important, somehow. I mean, it is Halloween, and we’re home for the first time in months. We’ve been living in New Orleans since graduation, and we don’t get back to Arkansas as much as I’d like. I only wish Luke and April could’ve come with us. Sonja, too, I suppose.
“And that is?” I ask, pouring four mugs full of coffee and turning to look at him, my heart racing frantically inside my chest.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now, actually.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks up at me. “I didn't have the courage before.”
“But you do now?”
“I do now,” he says, exhaling and lifting his dark gaze to focus on mine. “Karma, what I meant to say was … I want you to marry me.”
My cheeks flush red, and I find that the words have left me, stolen away by the spirits of All Hallows’ Eve. Too bad for them that I've tangled with much deadlier spirits on Devils' Day. These assholes could never compete.
“We're still in college,” I whisper back, because that's the right thing to say. “Plus … Raz and Barron …” But holy god, I want to say yes. I'd probably say yes to all of them, if they asked. So what do I do about that?
“Don't reply to me now,” Calix says, giving me a rare smile, as perfect as the jack-o-lantern outside on the porch. “Think about it.”
“I will,” I tell him, choking back tears as the door opens and the other boys step back in.
We take our coffees outside and sit on the deck, listening to the sounds of owls, the rustling of the deer in the brush, the distant scream of a cougar that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
When we head upstairs, we head up together, shedding clothes. Their hands are worshipful, their attention focused.
