Page 31

TWENTY-NINE

HAWK

“Do I really have to wear this shit?” Jackson whines, glaring at the colorful outfit that hangs from his closet door. As soon as I saw Arden walk by with the couple’s costume she picked out for tonight’s annual Daytona Fury Halloween party, I rushed up the stairs behind her so I could enjoy his real-time reaction. As expected, it did not disappoint.

“Baaaaabe,” she replies, batting her long, dark lashes. Oof, she’s laying it on extra thick with the pet names. “It’s nostalgic. Mario and Peach, back together again. Please wear it… for me ?” Her bottom lip pushes out, and like clockwork, his body accepts defeat, slumping as he exhales slowly.

“Fine. But how come he doesn’t have to wear one?” he asks, pointing to where I’m lying against his pillow with my arms propped behind my head, because this is way better than TV. I wink in his direction, and he flips me off.

“She looked, but they didn’t have anything in my size. Apparently, they only make them for dudes with small dicks.” He looks at her with wide eyes like he’s expecting her to say something, making me chuckle smugly under my breath. She shoots me a look, and I go silent, stopping while I’m ahead since I narrowly escaped what she so creatively called a throuple’s costume when she placed the order.

“They were sold out of Luigi and Bowser because you both waited until the last minute to tell me about this thing.” She puts a hand on her hip, her sassy fucking attitude making me want to put her over my knee and turn that tight little ass red.

Later, Hellcat. I have plans for you.

“That’s because I didn’t want to go,” I quip under my breath at the same time Jackson shouts.

“Bowser? You gave him the option to be Bowser ?” He shoves an exasperated hand through his hair, the other shooting in the air before dropping against his thigh with a slap . I hold in my laugh at his outburst, because I’m pretty sure he’ll kill me with his bare hands if I don’t. His ears are bright red, and his jaw opens and closes several times before he continues. “When I wanted that costume in the fourth grade, you told me no! And look what happened! All along, Bowser was in love with Peach! He even wrote a song about it, Arden !”

She steps into him, wrapping her small arms around his waist and pulling him in. He relaxes, hugging her back as he rests his cheek on top of her head. I love seeing them like this. Jackson has always been the guy who gives all of himself to others, easing their pain and anxiety without asking for a thing in return. Watching the way they connect, bringing each other peace and comfort, is something I feel lucky to be a part of. Even though the whole reason behind him losing his shit is fucking hilarious, this is them. And I love the way they love one another.

He pulls away slightly, looking down at where she has the cutest, most innocent expression plastered across her face. I know he’s about to fold like a cheap lawn chair even before he does, because fuck , so would I. Arden has us both wrapped so tightly around her finger that we’d probably go to the party as slutty nurses if she asked us to.

“Okay,” he says, smirking as a bright smile reaches her big brown eyes. “Mario and Peach are back together.” She jumps up and down in celebration, pushing to her toes and planting a chaste kiss on his lips. He rolls his eyes playfully, cringing as he takes in the ridiculous costume one more time.

She pulls her phone from the pocket of her hoodie, gasping quietly as she checks the time. “I have to go. I’m meeting Monroe and Lark to get our hair done. I’ll see you at the event center.” Hurrying to where her outfit for the evening is draped across the corner chair, she quickly zips it into its bag before scooping it up. She gives Jacks one last kiss before leaning over the bed and doing the same to me. “Love you!” she yells, disappearing down the hall as we both return the sentiment in unison. We listen as she rushes down the stairs and pads through the entryway, opening and closing the door behind her.

He turns to me, an annoyed scowl creasing the skin between his eyes. “What costume did you end up with? Something edgy and cool, I bet.” He looks like a four-year-old who didn’t get the candy he wanted in the checkout aisle, and to be honest, I’m really enjoying it.

I stand, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from my clothes as I strut past him, smugness dripping from my demeanor. “You’ll see.”