Stay With Me (14 page)

“It still sucks though.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

I
MAKE DAPHNE PROMISE ME
that she won’t say anything to Caleb or any of the other guys.

She draws back, insulted. “Like I’d ever tell them anything like that.”

But nonetheless, we pinky swear on it, and then Daphne looks over at me, her warm, cat-like hazel eyes widening.

“I’ve bet you’ve never had a Mugelnot.”

“A muggle, like Harry Potter muggle stuff?”

“A) Harry isn’t a muggle—”

“A) I know that—”

“And B) no. It’s a mugelnot. Spelled M-U-G-E-L-N-O-T.”

“What is it?”

“Oh, some things are better left to experience. I promise it’s good. So good it’s like having an orgasm.”

“That good, huh?”

“You’ll be popping your mugelnot cherry, but it won’t hurt and you definitely won’t be thinking of England.”

“Well, this I have to have.”

“Good.” Daphne puts her fingerless gloves on. “We’ll walk to get it.”

“It’s not far, is it?” I’m not wearing heels, but these boots weren’t made for walking.

“Ten minutes away. No hills. No steps. All flat roads.” She pulls me to the door. “Besides, the exercise will totally help us burn off one calorie of the millions of calories in the mugelnot.”

“So that means we can have two, right?”

She smiles brilliantly at me. “Hailey, I like the way you think.”

I
’VE DIED AND GONE TO
heaven.

Mugelnots, as I soon find out, are a cross between a muffin, bagel, and doughnut. It shouldn’t make sense, let alone work as a food.

But it does.

It so, so, so does.

They’re huge, and I’m not able to even eat one.

But that’s what doggie bags are for.

Chapter 16

T
HE PAPER LANDS FACEDOWN ON
on my desk, and I finger one corner, my heart racing.

Midterms were last week, and I had tests in Spanish and Environmental Science, a paper due in English, and a selection of paintings/drawings as well as a new painting for Art. I’ve been worried about each and every one of them and worked harder than ever to get my grades up. Since the dorm room party, I haven’t gone out as much and haven’t really gone out on another date with Caleb. We’ve hung out at his house or my apartment, both of us usually studying or doing work, or we’ll grab a quick bite to eat. Halloween is tomorrow, and I don’t have a costume yet. If I pass these mid-terms, I am totally going to have fun this weekend.

If I don’t, well, I’ll need the drinks.

I aced my Spanish final, which I’m thrilled about, and got an 80 on the science test. Both of those results were given on Wednesday, as well as the English paper, which I got a B on. Friday classes were cancelled, so I have tomorrow free. Earlier today, I got back my Art project and aced it. The professor even wants to showcase my work with some other students’, but I just think he’s being nice about that.

But right now, it’s Philosophy I’m worried about.

Everyone else in my philosophy class has already turned their papers over and has started to leave the room. The professor made us wait the whole class until she gave them back, and gave a whole lecture about being prepared and working to the best of our abilities, and that this grade was final and there was no chance of changing it.

So I don’t have high hopes that I’ve even passed. Disappointment has already settled in my bones, and I feel sick to my stomach.

It’s just a paper, I tell myself.

But I can’t fool myself. Because it’s not
just
a paper. I take a deep breath, cross my fingers, and then, I turn the paper over.

I blink.

And blink again.

A minus.

I’m not sure I’m seeing this right. Maybe it’s the wrong paper, but no, it has my name on it. Maybe the professor made a mistake, but no, that A minus is written in the same heavy red ink as the F was.

I can’t believe it. I really, really can’t. I can’t even begin to describe how happy I am. I put the paper in a folder, put that in my messenger bag, and start to leave the room.

The professor looks up at me as I near the door.

“Good job, Hailey. Really good job.”

I’m pretty sure my smile can be seen from the moon.

Caleb’s waiting outside my class. He leans against a wall, but when he sees me, he straightens.

“So?” he asks, as I near him.

I lean up on my toes and brush a kiss over his lips.

“That good, huh?”

To answer, I give him another kiss and feel his arms wrap around my waist. His forehead presses against mine when the kiss ends, both of us short of breath.

I place my hands against his chest; his heart pounds against the center of my palm. “That good.”

“Good,” he whispers. “Because now you can relax a little and have some fun. You’ve definitely earned it.”

“I still need to get a Halloween costume,” I say as we leave the building, and frown. “Although I bet there isn’t a lot to choose from this late.”

“You can always improvise.”

I look at him. “Do you have your costume?”

“Yup.”

Caleb doesn’t say anything more, and I stop in the walkway. He turns back, arching an eyebrow.

“So, what is it?” I ask.

He smiles. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

I huff out a breath, then start walking to the main parking lot, where I’ve parked my car. Caleb follows, so his car must be there.

“Okay, fine. Be like that,” I say. “But I’m not going to tell you what I’m going to be. I bet you wouldn’t even be able to pick me out in a crowd of people.”

“You want to make a bet on that?”

“Sure, it’ll be an easy win for me.”

“I’ll be able to find out before . . .”

“Midnight.”

“Midnight,” Caleb agrees. “If I don’t?”

“You’ll owe me chocolate chip pancakes.”

“And if I win . . .” Caleb follows me to my car. I see that his is in the other row. “I’ll tell you when I win the bet.”

“Nothing illegal.”

“Well, I can’t promise you that.” He backs me up against my car door. “Because there are many things I’d like to do to you that aren’t legal in every state.”

My blood turns molten. “I’m going to win this, so you might as well face it.”

“Hailey.” Caleb leans down. “I never lose.”

And then he kisses me, a hard stamp of possession, and all I can do is claim him in return.

I
DECIDE TO EMAIL DAPHNE.
when she doesn’t answer my texts

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

subject: SOS

Your cell is off. Need HELP. I don’t have a costume for Halloween. I have a bet against your brother that I
need
to win.

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

re: subject: SOS

Sorry. Cell was off. Was working.

What’s the bet?

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

re: subject: SOS

I said he couldn’t find me before midnight. He says he can.

If I win, he owes me chocolate chip pancakes.

Where are you working?

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

re: subject: SOS

That’s a lame bet. Why didn’t you ask for something better?

What did he bet? Wait, do I even want to know? Don’t tell me if it’s something gross, like you two getting naked.

And not that type of work. Other type of work.

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

re: subject: SOS

He didn’t tell me.

What’s this other type of work?

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

re: subject: SOS

It’s nothing. Just stuff.

So, you made a lame bet with my brother that you need to win. You don’t have a costume, and Halloween is two days away.

Nothing like cutting it short, Hailey.

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

re: subject: SOS

I KNOW!

HELP ME! PLEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASE.

to: [email protected]

from: [email protected]

re: subject: SOS

Duh.

Of course.

No way am I letting my brother win. He won’t know who you are. Hell,
you
won’t know who you are.

M
E: YOU’RE SO GONNA LOSE.

Caleb: No. U are.

Me: Fat chance.

Caleb: We’ll see about that.

Chapter 17

“T
HERE,” DAPHNE SAYS. “YOU LOOK
fabulous.”

I walk over to the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. Daphne and I decided to get ready at my place.

No one is going to recognize me. No way, no how. Daphne’s idea for a costume was absolutely genius.

We’d both been wracking our brains over the costume since late Thursday night. I didn’t want anything too obvious, like being covered head to toe, because I’m sure Caleb would be on the lookout for any mummies . . . or witches in green faces. And I also didn’t want to go the obvious route, like sexy barmaid, or a slinky cat, or a fairy.

It wasn’t until today, when Daphne and I were in a Halloween costume shop, that the costume was found. The perfect costume.

My long dark hair is covered in a jet-black bob wig that we’ve curled near the temples and parted in the middle. My skin that’s bared is dusted with white shimmery powder, giving me a soft, almost translucent glow. My eyes are rimmed in thick black eyeliner, extended out way past the corners, and are covered in nude shadow. False lashes give me an almost doll-like appearance. My lips are bright red, bow-shaped, and pursed. I have tiny black hot pants, a red bustier with white polka dots, and shiny black patent leather pumps.

I’m Betty Boop.

And I’m not the only one who’s unrecognizable.

Daphne has become a butterfly. Thin, wide gossamer wings spread out from her back, the cobalt blue threaded with silver thread, her face painted in multi-colors. Her body is covered in stretchy black leggings and a form-fitting tank. Her arms are covered in see-through black material, stockings she cut up to wear on them. Her headband has two antennas sticking out—fuzzy corkscrew wires with tiny fuzzy pom poms attached that bob up and down.

And then we head over to the dance.

T
HE GYM IS CROWDED WITH
people in all types of different costumes. I see a few Batmans, sailors, cops, M&Ms, Sandy from
Grease
, the Phantom of the Opera, and a guy who has a bandage over his head covering one ear—obviously he’s trying to be Van Gogh. I see Daphne’s roommate Maura, who’s dressed in a schoolgirl uniform, and Tatiana, who’s dressed as a sexy devil, dancing on the floor.

Daphne and I look once at each other, and then we separate, each going to either side of the gym. Caleb will definitely be looking for his sister among the crowd, and if he spots her, then he could identify me. But we make plans to meet up later that night, and if things get too crazy, Daphne or I will text each other to make sure the other one is okay.

I make my way to one corner of the gym, where the DJ is stationed. I go over to the food area, looking over at the chips, pretzels, and other snacks, before deciding I really don’t want anything. And then make my way through the dancers to reach one of the tables near the back. Through the crowd I see Daphne sitting at one of the empty tables near the punch bowl area. I quickly change directions to hit the other area of tables.

Although no alcohol is served at the college dance, there are more than a few who pour something into their drinks as they walk away from the fruit punch bowl and sodas. People block my way as the music turns louder. Some start doing some old-time popular dances, like the Macarena and Electric Slide. But the next time I look, Daphne’s talking to a guy dressed as Dracula. She smiles at him, nods, and then gets up and heads to the dance floor.

I have no idea who the guy is, but he’s definitely not one of Caleb’s friends. Dracula is tall and skinny, and all of Caleb’s friends have toned, muscular bodies.

I finally leave the dance floor and head toward the bleachers, where one door is slightly ajar. Some students are hanging out in the area, clearly getting some fresh air. I turn around and sit on the bottom bleacher, letting the wind whisper against the nape of my neck.

So far I haven’t seen Caleb anywhere. And I’ve been looking. I don’t even see his friends.

The music turns slower, and Daphne starts slow dancing with Dracula when a guy comes up, dressed all in black, wearing a half-mask that covers most of his face, and has a fake toy sword attached to his hip.

Zorro.

Zorro taps on the guy’s shoulder, causing Dracula and Daphne to stop dancing. Dracula backs away, and then Zorro starts to dance with Daphne.

I have no idea who Zorro is, but he’s big, built, and seems slightly familiar to me.

I stand up, trying to get a better look, and then I immediately sit back down.

Caleb. Twelve o’clock. Near the DJ booth. And he’s looking around the gym . . . for me.

Dressed in chinos, a white shirt, and a low slung hat that shadows his face . . . I think at first that he’s a cowboy. But there are no cowboy boots or star attached to his shirt. And then I see the toy whip.

Indiana Jones.

Now that I’ve spotted him, I look around the gym for the others; it doesn’t look like Caleb’s moving any time soon, and besides, even if he did look my way, he wouldn’t be able to know it was me. I see Jamie at the punch bowl, his blond hair slicked back, dressed in black jeans and white muscle tee—clearly going for the 1950s type of look. Kai is a cop and “arresting” a pretty brunette by the punch bowl, and Dylan is dressed in a pinstripe suit with a fedora, going for the mobster look. Griff is sitting alone at a table, not dressed as anything or anyone, and I barely resist rolling my eyes at him.

There’s no sign of Nick . . . perhaps he decided not to come.

Or maybe he’s—

Caleb is suddenly in front of me.

And he smiles.

“You lose.”