All the Bold Moves (All The Right Moves 2)

Molly’s mouth falls open. “Oh my gawd, I’m going to kill you…”

In response, he grabs an orange off the counter and saunters out of the room chuckling.

Molly turns to me, a shit eating grin plastered on her face, whispering, “There. Happy now? I just did all your dirty work for you – your little man-crush is coming to the party. Please, hold the applause.”

Now it’s my mouth that falls open. “What the hell!? Were you trying to give me a damn heart attack? I seriously thought you were pissed!”

“Would you keep your voice down? He’s probably listening through the heating vent for crying out loud.”

“Sorry,” I apologize in a staged whisper. “It felt like you were throwing me under the bus.”

“Au Contraire! I was doing you a favor. Cece – you need to make him start working for it a little. Sheesh, my brother always gets whatever he wants – it’s so annoying.” Then, as she opens a cabinet and grabs a clean wash cloth, she lets out a soft giggle. “Oh my god, did you see the look on his face while we were arguing? Like a sad, confused puppy dog. He sooo wants to come to that party.”

“How do you know?”

In typical Molly fashion, she snorts. “Puh-lease. He couldn’t have been more obvious. I mean, hellooo. He literally came right out and asked to be invited.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“No, not ‘I guess.’ Cece, the guy was trying to play footsies with you under the damn table and ended up rubbing my leg instead.”

“Can we please not talk about that?”

“He looked like he was going to crap his pants when I called him out on it.”

We resume washing glasses and silverware. Molly glances at me sideways, and quietly says, “He needs to just freaking ask you out already. This cat and mouse game is getting ridiculous.”

“Yeah but I don’t think he really li-“

She shushes me with a loud, obnoxious ‘SShhh!’ “Don’t you dare start in with that ‘I don’t think he likes me’ self-deprecating crap. It’s nauseating.”

“Um… You seem angry. I think you’ve been hanging around Weston a bit too much. You look like you want to body check me.”

She ignores me and barrels on. “So now we have our work cut out for us: deciding what costume you’re going to wear to this party - and we only have a few weeks to do it…”

Oh. Crap.

Matthew: Do you know how much self-control I exercised tonight by not claiming my prize and using the code word? Just sayin

Me: I was wondering if you would. but then again, it wouldn’t have been much of a surprise.

Matthew: True. I am kind of going for shock value.

Me: Great. Just great…

Matthew: The look on my mom’s face would have been priceless, tho.

Me: Yeah. Even more so if I hauled off and slapped you when you tried to kiss me. LOLz

Matthew: You wouldn’t dare. That wasn’t part of the deal

Me: The deal was that you got to ‘plant one’ on me, not that I would LET you… Compliance was NOT part of the discussion.

CHAPTER 22

CECELIA

“We’re all gonna have so much fucking fun we’re going to need plastic surgery to remove our goddamn smiles.”

– Clark Griswold

There are really no words to describe the parties my friend Amber, and her husband Lincoln, throw each year - but I’m going to give it my best shot anyways.

Because you really must see it to believe it.

At the tender ages of twenty-four and twenty-eight respectively, Amber and Lincoln (a trust fund baby of epic proportions) live on a little slice of heaven called Lake Geneva - in a house that has been in his family for generations (see: Trust fund baby), and which Lincoln inherited from his grandfather on his twenty-fifth birthday.

(And really quickly, before I go any further… with a name like Lincoln, was it really necessary for me to tell you he comes from money? Yeah. Didn’t think so…)

Nestled back from the main road and only accessible down a long windy driveway, the estate sits on several acres of premium lake frontage – which just happens to be a prime location for their Third Annual Halloween bash.

Invite only, and under a black rented reception tent (a tent normally intended for wedding receptions) – Amber really knows how to throw one hell of a party – and this spectacle is like nothing I have personally ever seen (and I’ve seen some crazy shit).

Under the canopy, in the center of the dance floor, a large, manmade constructed tree stands, seemingly holding up the entire tent. Its lifeless, leafless branches are wrapped in low glowing L.E.D lights, just emitting enough light to be functional.

On both sides of this giant tree, two monstrous black chandeliers hang, their prisms and crystals adding a sophistication to the event, while a large Dracula ice sculpture at the head bar lends an air of fun.