Page 8 of Beg for It

CHAPTER EIGHT

BLAIR

Everything. Hurts.

But I keep smiling like the good witch my mother dressed me up to be.

“That tiara is just stunning. Reminds me of the Braganca tiara, do you know the one?” Mrs. Flanagan preens.

“I do.”

And it weighs even more than the damn Braganca tiara. I checked earlier. This thing on my head comes in at a whopping four pounds. Do you know what it’s like carrying four pounds of gemstones on your skull while a corset crushes your ribs and thirty pounds of beaded tulle drags around your waist?

It’s a nightmare.

I won’t have to work out for a month after tonight.

“It’s a gorgeous piece. Do you know where your mother ordered yours from?”

“She had it custom made. All our costumes are.” I give her a placid smile. “Our mother truly goes above and beyond for us.”

“Truly. I wish I had a daughter to spoil like you,” she sighs. “Unfortunately, all I had were sons.”

I just hum and nod…or attempt to nod because of the tiara.

“It would be wonderful if one of my sons married a girl like you. So poised and beautiful.”

“You flatter me too much, Mrs. Flanagan.”

I give her a polite laugh as though I am not aware that one of her sons already has a fiancée, another is still in high school, and the last is gay. Not really much I can do to help the woman with her wish.

“Hannah, come here, my dear.” Mr. Flanagan waves at his wife from a social circle nearby.

She takes my hand and squeezes it. “Lovely chatting with you.”

“You, too.”

I wait until her back is turned and then attempt to make an escape but am pulled into yet another conversation.

It’s been going like this nonstop for the last three hours.

These parties mom throws are worse than the pageants I was forced into.

I need a wine break in the kitchen with Josh, but I haven’t seen him for at least half an hour.

Ugh. He can’t have gotten that far in his loud tin armor.

I’ve barely been able to leave this room.

A flash of silver moves past patio doors.

Bingo.

I do a quick scan for my parents, clocking them by the fireplace chatting up Councilman Sval and his wife. Perfect.

“I’m so sorry, I’m just going to head out for a spot of fresh air, if you don’t mind?”

I excuse myself from the conversation and glide—yes, glide, because that’s what it looks like in this ballgown—through the crowded foyer and down the hallway.

The living room is packed with more people, but the wide berth of my skirt forces people to make a path for me.

The double doors to the patio are both open, making it easy for me to slip out without having to contort the petticoat to fit through it.

I bounce my gaze over the crowd. Everyone is dressed to the nines for the party. Elaborate costumes that have spared zero expense. And yet, I don’t see a six-foot-two tin man.

Where the hell is he?

My gaze catches on the large oak tree that grows near my bedroom, and a shiver runs down my spine.

Part of me still thinks I imagined what I saw.

A man with a half-skull mask sitting on the branch, watching me as I came apart.

A man who looked just like Phantom. I had been tipsy and stressed, unable to fall asleep after my encounter with Eli at Old Spur.

My thoughts were everywhere, and my body was wired with pent up frustration.

Tossing and turning to no avail, I’d done the only stress-relieving thing I could think of.

Orgasming.

I thought maybe I’d hallucinated Phantom because I’d been watching his videos, specifically the one with the dark blue lighting that hits his bare chest just right as the camera pumps up and down in what social media guidelines think is a push-up but to the more savvy is most clearly not a push-up.

It’s the one where he groans into the microphone with his gravely voice, “fuck, that’s right, baby. I know you can take it.”

Except this morning, when I’d looked out my window at the tree again, I’d noticed something shining on the branch. After shoving my face against the glass, I realized there was a literal switchblade stuck in the wood.

That didn’t just appear out of thin air.

What the hell does it all mean?

There’s no way it was actually Phantom.

So…who was watching me?

I need a drink, stat. Maybe Josh is in the kitchen with the same idea. There is a back entrance from the patio he could’ve snuck through so our parents didn’t notice him slacking off from his “filial duties.”

Settled with that idea, I take the side door into the kitchen, lifting my thirty-pound skirt to fit through the doorframe.

Servers buzz around the space, and the caterer paces up and down the length of the island watching every platter that gets sent out.

I spot the bottle of red wine Josh and I had stashed earlier still hidden behind the vase of marigolds.

I’m not exactly subtle about pouring myself a glass, but no one back here really cares. As long as none of the red spills on the pink gown, I’m fine.

I take a sip, letting the rich liquid coat my tongue. The muscles in my shoulders relax a fraction as I take a moment to drop my mask. It’s a lot of work keeping up the pretense of perfection. Eyes are on me every second, making it so I can’t even take a breath without sneaking away.

But even the brief respite can stop the suspicious feeling that swirls in my gut.

Where the hell is my brother?

I pick up my phone from where I’d also stashed it behind the vase, noticing that Josh’s phone is no longer there.

Not a good sign. Neither of us has a place to hide our phones in the costumes mom designed, and she would murder us if she saw us on them instead of interacting with guests, so we always keep them back here.

His phone being gone just compounds the awful hunch I have.

A notification sits on my lock screen.

Phantom uploaded a story

I swipe the notification open, causing the app to automatically load and bring up the story in question.

I expect it to be some kind of shirtless mirror image or a countdown to a gaming live stream.

What I do not expect is for it to be a selfie of him at a party.

Phantom never posts anything personal. He never posts anything outside of his room.

Period. The people around him are too far away to make out, but you can tell it’s some kind of Halloween costume party.

I guess it is kind of a smart idea. Cosplaying as yourself. Who would know?

Something about the picture is throwing me off, but I can’t quite place it.

I finish off the glass of red as I click through my friends’ stories since I already have the app open.

I tap through all the various Halloween parties they’re attending that are way more fun than the one I am at.

Michelle even has a cute pic of her and Brett at Trent’s, the two of them dressed up as a singer and football player respectively.

I tap through the next seven selfies she has posted because that girl has zero chill.

The last one is a video of D’Andre bobbing for an apple in the beer-filled barrel before panning out to the old barn house.

Wait.

No.

There’s no way.

I go back to Michelle’s story and rewatch the video, holding my finger down and pausing once she zooms out.

I screenshot the still and then go back to Phantom’s profile, going through his story until I hit the latest one.

I screenshot that too and then click into my photos.

I swipe between the two screenshots, my brain having trouble comprehending what I’m looking at.

Holy shit.

Is Phantom at the old barn house?

Why would Phantom be at Trent’s party of all things?

My mind whirls and the wine flushes my cheeks.

Before I can stop myself, I go back onto his profile and click the message button. He doesn’t follow me, so there is a chance he never sees this among the forty million other DMs he probably gets, but I have to ask.

BlairHanes_: Hi! I swear this isn’t me trying to be creepy, but are u at the old barn house off Clendon Road? P.S. great pic :)

“Blair.”

I jolt, snapping my head to the side to see my father standing in the kitchen with a disapproving frown. Better him than my mother, I guess.

“Hi, Dad. Sorry, I just needed a breather.”

“I know, but your mother needs you out there. Without your brother, you must be more attentive to our guests.”

“What? I mean, sorry, pardon?”

Did he just imply that Josh isn’t here?

“I said, your mother needs you out there. The Acostils just arrived, and you know how Wendy always aggravates her.”

“No, not that. Did you say Josh left?”

“I did.”

“Where?”

My voice pitches high, and he gives me a disapproving glare. Me, the child who is actually here and present and slowly dying of oxygen depletion in the not-sexy way.

“He said he had a party.”

“Y-you say that like you approved this?”

“I did. He has been busy with lacrosse all semester; he deserves a night out with his friends.”

What the actual hell?

My practiced patience cracks, years of pent of frustration leak through.

“Seriously? You’ve never let me go to my friend’s parties. That’s not fair.”

“Blair. Do not start with me on this. Tonight is already stressful.”

“But—”

My phone vibrates and I look down, the complaint poised on the tip of my tongue lost.

Holy shit.

Phantom replied.

With a photo.

I click on it to see a selfie of him with a couple that is very clearly Michelle and Brett making out behind him. He’s seriously at Trent’s Halloween party.

Phantom: want to join me for some fun? [devil smile emoji]

“Blair, don’t make me confiscate that thing,” my father warns.

I close the screen and clutch my phone behind my back with a tense smile.

“Sorry, Father. I’ll go out and make my rounds with the guests and make sure Mrs. Acostil is far away from mom. It’s just…”

“Yes?”

“Is it alright if I use the restroom upstairs first? This skirt is just so big that the guest bathroom down here is a nightmare.”

His gaze sweeps over the mass of tulle. “Fine but be quick.”

“Of course.” I place a peck on his cheek and then move as quickly as I possibly can to leave the kitchen before he can renege.

I’m a woman on a mission as I weave through the crowded living room, careful to keep an eye out for my mother so I don’t get caught in her web. People try to stop me, but I just give them that classic close-lipped, overly sweet grin and keep moving.

Once I safely get upstairs and hit my bedroom, I let all pretenses drop.

“That little shit.”

I can’t believe Josh got to leave and didn’t even try to sneak me away with him. So much for partners in crime.

I unlock my phone again, checking that I didn’t misread the message from Phantom.

Yeah. Nope. That’s totally him.

Gnawing on my lower lip, I type out a response.

BlairHanes_: yeah, I’m in

My heart is beating so loudly, I can practically hear the blood pumping against my eardrums.

Phantom: can’t wait

Holy crap.

A winky smile?

Is he hitting on me?

I space on what to type back, but it doesn’t even matter. Three little dots appear as he shoots off two more messages.

Phantom: one hour

Phantom: tick tock, princess

This cannot be real.

Oh my God.

I contort my arms behind my back and unzip the beaded bodice. Then I get to work on untying the corset. I can’t take too long. I need to get out of this costume and out of this house before my father realizes too much time has passed and comes looking for me.

Willing my fingers to work deftly through the satin ribbons, I finally get death-trap off, and take the biggest inhale known to man.

God. I’d forgotten what it was like to actually breathe.

The beaded tulle skirt is easy to remove. One zip and it falls to the floor. I pop out of the petticoat and then carefully remove the tiara from my head without tangling my hair. I seriously don’t have the time to redo my look.

Now, the real question.

What the hell am I going to wear to Trent’s?

All my past Halloween outfits are custom-made ones from my mother. Totally not sexy. I need something that will make Phantom turn his head, something that screams hot, something that will make him go mad.

Oh, my God.

Wait.

I dive into my walk-in closet, grabbing the box that holds my old school uniforms and sport uniforms. I dig through it until I find the Halloween outfit I secretly bought senior year when I thought there was a chance Mother would actually let me attend a party.

I hold the dress up with a grin.

It is perfect, so long as it still fits.