🎃 Bonus Chapter - Halloween Special

A/N: So I know Halloween has passed within the timeline of the book lol, but it's spooky season in real life, so I thought it would be fun to have a Halloween episode! Also, just a warning, there will be smut NEXT chapter (not this one). And there will be 3 more chapters after this before the story is marked as completed.

Happy Halloween 👻

Jaron sits cross-legged on the floor, still as a statue, while I lean over him with a brush in one hand and a half-empty tube of latex in the other.

“Hold still,” I mutter.

“I am holding still.”

“You’re breathing too loud.”

He laughs under his breath. “Sorry for being alive, Michelangelo.”

“Don’t talk,” I snap, dabbing the sponge too hard on his cheekbone. “You’ll mess up the texture.”

It’s supposed to be a fake scar. Just a jagged line across his face for his so-called “minimalist Halloween look.” I told him he could’ve just drawn it with eyeliner like a normal person, but no, apparently he wanted realistic. Which means it’s now my problem.

The weird thing is, it’s kind of…fun. The latex dries weird and bumpy, and I layer foundation over it, blending until the edge disappears into his skin. I get lost in it, the same way I do when I’m painting. the little details pulling me in until the rest of the world fades out.

He tries to peek at the mirror. I grab his chin, forcing his face back toward me. “Don’t move. You’re not done.”

“Jeez, relax.”

“Art takes focus.”

“Art,” he echoes, grinning. “So this is foreplay for you?”

“What?” I smack his shoulder with the sponge. “Shut up.”

He laughs, but stays still after that, letting me paint the bruise colors around the edges, a little red, a little purple, a touch of brown. When I finally step back, the line of fake flesh and shadow looks disturbingly real.

I cross my arms, squinting critically. “Not bad.”

Jaron looks in the mirror and blinks. “Holy crap. It looks like I got mauled.”

“Mm.” I wipe a smudge off his jaw. “By your own bad decisions, maybe.”

He catches my wrist before I can pull away. “You missed a spot,” he says softly, tilting his head.

“No, I didn’t—”

He kisses me anyway, careful not to smear the scar.

When he pulls back, he’s smiling. I roll my eyes, but my ears are burning. “Anyway,” I mutter. “Let’s go. We’ll be late to your friend’s party.

He rises to his feet and pulls me up with him. “Ethan’s chill,” Jaron tells me as we get to his car. “He’s our team captain. For baseball. He’s rich, so he throws great house parties. Stereotypical high school parties you know?”

“Oh,” I say. “Sure.” Ethan used to tug my backpack and throw my pens on the ground when I was in middle school. But he didn’t know that cause it never came up and he only moved here this year. And I’ve never been to a house party. I climb into the car, cross both my arms and legs and look out the window.

He looks me over once. “Where’s your costume?”

“I’m wearing black.”

“That’s not a costume.”

I shrug. Then I get a rather clever idea. As he starts the car, I climb into the backseat.

“What—Indra stop! I’m already on the road!”

I lean over the headrest and fish through his trunk until I find one of his baseball jerseys. I slip it on and go back to my seat.

He sighs. “You’re…a baseball player?”

“No, I’m you.” I twist to show him the back of the jersey: his name. “Ashcomb.” I pause. “Ass-comb,” I correct.

He smiles faintly, looking back at the road in front of him. “Sure.”

I stick my hand on his thigh, close to his crotch.

“I-Indra! I’m driving!”

“I’m you,” I remind him. “You always grope me in the car.”

He slowly starts turning bright red, but he doesn’t stop me. Just bites his lip and his knuckles on the wheel turn white.

“Focus on the road,” I say. “Don’t crash. That’d be embarassing.”

“Embarassing,” he echoes and shakes his head.