Her Halloween Treat

“And bloody feet. Don’t forget that part. Who are you going as?”

“I was thinking Carrie. Bloody prom dress to match your bloody feet.”

“Carrie came out in the ’70s.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve seen every Stephen King movie at least five times.”

“Five times? What is wrong with you?”

“Don’t ask,” he said.

“Got any other ideas?”

“Got a metal bikini? You can be Princess Leia in Return of the Jedi.”

“It’s a little chilly for that, don’t you think?”

“There goes that fantasy.” He smiled again. She blushed. Oh, my God, they were flirting. She was flirting. He was flirting. Flirting was happening. Did Kira make this happen? Or was it Dillon? Was he trying to put her and Chris alone in the house together? Very possible. Dillon never liked Ben. And she knew a setup when she saw one.

“So...who are Oscar and Dillon going as?” Chris asked.

“They won’t tell anybody. It’s a big gay secret, Dillon said.”

“He called it a ‘big gay secret’?” Chris asked.

“You know my brother.”

“Intimately,” he said. “Wait. Never mind.”

“Any guesses?” Joey asked.

“Kirk and Spock from one of those ’80s Star Trek movies. They’re both nerds. It could work. Walking, talking fan fiction.”

“My money’s on Bill and Ted,” Joey said.

“Whoa.”

“Exactly.”

“You know who you should go as...” Chris pointed his screwdriver at her and it was neither threatening nor sexual. Especially when he flipped it casually and stuck it in his back pocket like a kid gunslinger holstering a toy pistol.

“Who?”

“Since the guys hijacked your birthday for their wedding...you should go as what’s-her-name from that movie.”

“That doesn’t help me.”

“Girl. Redhead. Birthday cake.” He snapped his fingers repeatedly. “You know, Molly Something.”

“Sixteen Candles?”

“That’s it. Didn’t her sister get married on her birthday?” Chris asked.

“Day after but close enough. Oh, my God, that’s a great idea. Dillon will think it’s hilarious. He loves that movie. I’ll go as Sam. All I have to do is get a red wig and a floofy bridesmaid dress. Or some kind of Laura Ashley nightmare to wear and a hat. Will you come with me?”

“As who? Don’t say Dong.”

“No, you can put on a pink button-down shirt and be Farmer Ted. Just pop your collar.”

“Will you let me walk around with your underwear in my pocket like he did?”

“You remembered my birthday. You can walk around with my underwear in your teeth if you want.”

Chris’s eyes widened just slightly.

“This conversation got weird fast,” she said.

“I’ve never had anyone offer to let me hold their underwear in my mouth at a wedding.”

“Well, it is Dillon’s wedding.”

“Fair point.”

She rocked back on her heels. “I’m just gonna get my stuff out of the car. Or maybe I should wait since the bedroom’s not done yet.”

“The other bedroom is all set up. You can put your stuff in there.”

“Our old bedroom? You fixed it up?”

“I did. Go check it out. Turned out pretty nice.”

He wore an expression on his face that made her a teeny tiny bit suspicious. She walked out of the master bedroom and down the hall into the second bedroom. She’d always liked that room better. Better view of the forest and she could even catch the occasional glimpse of Mount Hood’s snowy peak on clear days.

She opened the door and her jaw dropped. Chris had outdone himself. The plaster that covered the walls had been removed, leaving the rough wood boards exposed. They gleamed a golden hue in the warm lamplight. A hand-woven blue-and-gray rug covered most of the hardwood floor. A large bed sat in the center of the room. The headboard and footboard were all dark wood, roughly carved but sanded smooth, stained and polished. Piled high on the bed were pillows and blankets. The downstairs woodstove had been brought up to the guest room and a hole cut into the wall to vent it properly. Framed photographs of Mount Hood and the surrounding forest in all seasons lined the walls. It was everything rustic and luxurious and lovely all in one. She could be very happy in this room and in this house. Or, at least, not as miserable as she thought she’d be. Even the frames on the photographs were beautiful distressed wood. A small thing but she admired it, was grateful for it.

“You’re good,” she said as Chris came to stand behind her.

“So I’ve been told. But don’t be too impressed. A friend of mine makes those frames, not me. But I did make the bed.”

“You do excellent hospital corners.”

He chuckled softly. “No, I mean, I made the bed.”

“You...carved the bed?”

“There’s all these trees around here. Might as well put them to use.”