Sweet Dandelion

He grins. “Oh, that’s genius.”

“What are you?” I counter with. “A skeleton?” Half of his face is painted with white and black paint and his clothes are all black.

“Basically.” He shrugs, driving forward when the light changes. “I couldn’t think of anything else so I grabbed my paints and had at it.”

“It looks good.”

And it does. With his sharp cheekbones and bright eyes the look really stands out, where on someone else it might look clownish.

“Merci.”

He reaches over and turns the volume up, whatever song he’s playing from his phone bumping through the speakers. We converse a little, but for the most part the drive is silent between us.

I know we’re at the party before I even see the house, thanks to the cars parked along the gravel and dirt road. Apparently the house sits on a few acres, which makes it excellent for party throwing.

Ansel parks his car and I hop out, the two of us walking the rest of the distance to the house. I shiver in the cool night air. It makes me thankful I did have the forethought to wear a jacket. Regardless, I do only have a tank top beneath it so I still feel the pinch of cold.

Ansel reaches out, draping his arm around my shoulder. Tugging me against his side he shoots me a playful grin. “Cold, Meadows? I’ll warm you right up.”

I shake my head, but don’t pull away from him.

I swear we walk a mile before we reach the house. It’s huge, one of the largest homes I’ve seen, and looks exactly like something that would be on the cover of Modern Mountain Mansions. I don’t think that’s a real magazine, but this house convinces me it should be a thing.

The house pulses with music and the closer we get to the front steps, the more I feel the ground shaking with it too. The outside is decorated with gravestones, zombies coming out of the ground, and purple lights strung along the roofline.

Ansel jogs up the front steps, opening the door wide. He nods with his head for me to go in first. The lights are mostly off, except for strategically placed purple and orange lights, along with those projector ones that I think are meant for the outside. On the wall to the left green witches flash along it.

“Let’s get a drink and look for Sasha.” Ansel grabs my hand, tugging me through the crowd of teens. There must be a lot of people here, considering this house isn’t small and it’s basically wall to wall with bodies.

He’s either been here before, or has a keen sense of direction, because we reach the kitchen in no time. There are a couple of kegs, bottles of liquor, and even some snacks—mostly tortilla chips, salsa, and some weird looking thing that I don’t even want to take a guess at.

“Beer?” A brow peeks on his forehead, cracking his face paint a smidge.

“Sure.” I watch him grab the red Solo cup and fill it up, passing it to me before getting one for himself.

My body moves slightly to the beat of the thumping music, my eyes scanning the room for anyone I recognize.

“Is Seth coming?” I don’t really know Seth, but at least he isn’t a total stranger like most of these people.

My anti-socialness is really biting me in the butt right now.

Ansel shrugs. “Said he was, but I never know with him.” He tips his cup back, gulping down a few large swallows.

I grab onto Ansel’s hand again and the two of us push our way through the crowded kitchen.

“Sexy kitten,” Ansel announces, pointing with one finger, the rest wrapped around his cup. “Nope, not Sasha. There’s another, still not her.”

I can’t help snickering, because he was right earlier in the week when he said a sexy kitten was predictable. With my plastic knife in my pocket and cereal box under my arm I’m sure I don’t even look like I’ve tried.

“Spiderman also seems to be a popular choice.”

Again, he’s not wrong. Most guys seem to be some sort of Marvel character. Spiderman, Thor, and Iron Man seem to be the top choices.

Most everyone is either talking loudly over the music, dancing, or making out. The scent of marijuana lingers in the air, and I’m sure Ansel will be selling plenty tonight. He’s mentioned that parties really boost his regular profit.

We check out the upstairs, still no Sasha, before making our way to the basement. We spot her almost immediately at a pool table playing beer pong. Two black cat ears stick out on top of her head amidst all her spiraling blond curls. Her dress is skin tight, black and shiny, and barely covers anything. When she moves a significant part of side-boob is shown and more than a few guys stare blatantly.

Ansel shakes his head and mutters, “She’s something.”