Page 120 of Only Ever You

Without hesitating, I stalk toward them. The whole way there, I rack my brain, trying to figure out who Isla is dressed as. She’s half-turned toward the crowd, the side of her face covered in black markings. As they become clearer, recognition sets in, and a smile breaks over my lips. I should’ve known.

I stop at her side, facing her. As if she feels my presence, she immediately turns and freezes. Her attention flicks to my mask, and her breath hitches as she presses her hand to her chest. “Jesus, Ghostface. Could you not sneak up on people like that? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Without a word, I drink her in. Long pink wig. Black markings drawn along her cheekbones and jaw, a black line over her pert nose and an ornament on her forehead. Her makeup is impeccable, and, to top it all off, she’s wearing red contacts. She’s dressed as Sukuna from Jujutsu Kaisen, and her fitted black dress hugs every soft line of her body, easily making her the hottest girl at the party.

“Hello, dude.” Blake waves her hand in front of my face. “You’re kinda creeping us out.”

With a snort, I lift the mask, propping it on the top of my head. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Dammit, Thompson.” Blake laughs. “In that mask, you really look scary.”

“Just wait until you see Asher. He’s dressed as Jason Voorhees.”

“What’s the obsession with serial killers?” Isla pouts.

“Fictional serial killers.” Ducking, I catch her eye. “You’re not much different. Sukuna was no saint, from what I remember.”

She blinks, her jaw dropping. “Um, you know who I am?”

“Yeah. From Jujutsu Kaisen. Though, from what I remember, the pink hair isn’t canon.” I gently touch her cheek with my fingertips, making sure not to smudge her makeup. “The markings, though? They look perfect, and so do you.”

“Thank you.” Her skin is hot, just like the fire now burning in her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d know. You weren’t into anime.”

“I watched it with you all the time.” I shrug. “It grew on me.”

I don’t tell her that even though we were apart, even after all the hurt and heartbreak between us, I watched anime as often as I had with her, every night before bed so it became a habit I couldn’t break, even after she left for Boston. I was clinging to something to connect me to her, even in the smallest of ways, to the point that some of those characters now live on my skin.

For a while, we stay like this, caught in one another’s orbit, together but not touching. Eventually, we join the hockey team, and, to my relief, Isla is relaxed and smiley.

Before long, though, Blake tells her she wants to find her sister, and the two of them scurry off with a quick goodbye.

Forty minutes later, when she still hasn’t come back, I make my way to the kitchen for a drink, searching the room for her as I go. I find her holding a red plastic cup, but she’s not with Blake. Some dude is standing too close, his hip propped against the cupboard, wearing a lazy smile, his eyes glassy. He’s not touching her, but just the sight of him hovering over her like that makes my body go taut.

Fuck no.

Muscles tensing, I stomp toward them.

“I’m not really in the mood for this,” Isla says.

He chuckles. “C’mon, I’m just curious. I have no idea what this all means.”

“I’m dressed as a character from one of my favorite anime.” Her words are clipped. She avoids looking at him. The tension in her shoulders is unmistakable. “Who cares what my costume is? It’s not like I came here naked.”

“Maybe you should’ve,” he retorts, excitement flashing in his eyes. “Your body⁠—”

I drop a hand to his shoulder roughly, and, luckily, he shuts up. He peers at me, and when he registers my identity, his eyes widen. While I have no idea who he is, he surely has no trouble placing me.

His comment about her body buzzes in my head, but I rein in the urge to clock him in the face. “Watch how you talk to her,” I grit through my teeth.

He scoffs. “It was a compliment.”

I take off my mask, brows pulled together. “Does it seem like I’m asking?”

“Dammit, you’re like a fucking dog marking your territory.” He rolls his shoulder so my hand falls. Focusing on Isla, he says, “Good luck with whatever it is.”

With that, he stalks away.

I turn to her, and she shakes her head. “I could’ve dealt with him myself,” she mutters. “He’s in one of my classes. He came up to me like a minute before you showed up and asked about my costume.”