Ghosts of Halloween: A Dark Why Choose Romance

Three years ago

I try not to stare at Harlow as she tries to put on the new prosthetic Noah got her. She’s nervous, her fingers fumbling, even though I know she’s been to a few fitting sessions, so she knows what to do. Maybe the fact I’m staring unnerves her, so I look away, pretending not to care. And yet, my eyes are drawn to her as if magnetized.

Taking another peek, I suck in a quiet breath when I notice the wrinkled skin of her stump, the uneven scars lining her soft flesh. She’s unbalanced right now, her nerves making her blush, and I ache to drag her into my lap and kiss every inch of that arm.

Not because I have a thing for stumps or some kind of disability fetish. God, no. It’s just that she’s so clearly embarrassed, so self-conscious about it, and I want to show her she shouldn’t be.

Something tells me nobody has touched that wrinkled skin with love and desire before. The thought of being the first to do that makes my heart thump heavily.

But I can’t. Noah sits by her side, his eyes tender as he grins at her. I swear, that dude never smiles. Ever since we became friends in high school, he’s smiled maybe a handful of times. And only when his little sister’s around.

He’s so keyed to her, so obsessed with protecting and pampering her, I sometimes wonder if it’s healthy. And I get why he doesn’t want me to touch her and snarls every time I so much as look at her for too long—Noah and I have done some bad shit together, so he’s right to warn me off Harlow—but fuck, I sometimes think his jealousy goes beyond the bounds of brotherly love.

Though, maybe I’m wrong. They’ve been through hell together, even before the accident. He had to care for her basically since the day she was born because their shitty mother couldn’t be bothered. Maybe their fucked-up life created such a twisted, thorny love that’s tougher than anything.

Harlow looks up with a bright smile, beaming at Noah when the prosthetic sits tightly over her stump. Slowly, she moves her fingers, laughing shakily as she watches them in wonder.

“There’s barely any delay,” she says, tightening and loosening her fist. The matte black surface of the prosthetic looks classy and futuristic, and when she reaches that robotic arm out to hold Noah’s hand, my heart lurches.

Fuck. I want those black fingers curled around mine. I want to feel them on my cheek, in my hair, and on my dick, too, while we’re at it. At the same time, I want her to take the arm off so I can see her truly naked without the prop. She never goes out in public without a prosthetic, though the old one was barely functional. She still wore it like a shield.

“Thank you.” Her voice is raspy with emotion as she looks at Noah with bright, shining eyes. “I won’t even ask what you did to be able to get it for me. Just… I love you so much.”

She launches herself at him, and Noah hugs her with a laugh, burying his face in her hair. I look over at Caden, who wears a mild expression, holding his beer bottle loosely. Silas sits next to him, their knees touching, and when he catches my eye, he shoots me a frustrated look.

He doesn’t like the fact Noah splurged most of his cut on the prosthetic so soon after we did the job. He thinks it’s careless, but I don’t give a fuck. No one in this town knows how much it cost, and besides, they can say Harlow inherited money from a relative or some shit if somebody asks.

And Silas is always so ridiculously careful. I’m sure his money is buried somewhere, hidden so no one ever learns about it. Wonder when he’ll feel safe enough to start spending it. A year from now? Five?

I haven’t spent mine, either. I don’t think too much about what I’m planning to do with it, but sometimes, I let daydreams through when I lug crates in my shitty job at the warehouse. I dream about a small, cozy apartment. Soft sheets smelling like Harlow. Maybe a ring on her finger.

Stupid and pathetic, especially since I can’t even look at her as much as I want. Noah has already threatened to gouge my eyes out with a spoon once. He’s crazy enough to make good on his threat.

When Harlow lets go of him, shrugs on her hoodie, and reaches for her soda carefully, using the new hand, Silas gets to his feet and pulls cigarettes out of his pocket. Noah pats Harlow’s arm and gets up, Caden following them, his beer bottle held carelessly in two fingers.

I’m trying to give up smoking, so they don’t get suspicious when I don’t follow. Only Caden looks over his shoulder and shoots me a smirk. I flip him off, my heart beating faster when I look at Harlow, whose bright, happy eyes are on me.

I’m on my third beer, already feeling pretty loose and confident, so I don’t even hesitate before I slide my crate over to her side. I maneuver carefully so our knees touch without making it obvious it’s on purpose.

“Hey, you.”

She shakes her head with a smile, bumping me lightly with her elbow. “Noah will pop a vein when he sees you,” she warns me, her voice low, her smile conspiratorial. “You know how he is.”

I shrug, reaching over to get my beer and settle back, an inch closer than before so my hip is pressed against hers. “What Noah doesn’t see won’t hurt him,” I say with a wink.

She snorts lightly, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she looks me up and down. When her gaze returns to my face, her smile seems a bit strained, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. I grin, knowing she likes what she sees. I’m tall and lean, my physical job and long hours playing basketball reflected in my frame. I run my hand over my buzzcut, relishing the roughness of the short hair.

I keep this sharp, soldierly look mainly because Harlow once told me she digs it.

“Hope you’re right,” she says, looking away. She fumbles with her can, finally taking a sip of the soda, and I nudge her with my elbow when she’s done.

“Want something stronger?”

I have rum in my bag, and I could pour some into her drink. No one would be the wiser, and she could loosen up. I know she’s nineteen, but come on. Everyone drinks at nineteen.

But Harlow shakes her head without looking at me. “Thanks, but I can’t. Booze makes me clumsy, and I’m disabled enough as it is.”

I stare at her for a moment before I snort. “Disabled,” I repeat in disgust. “Don’t give me that, princess. Sure, you’re at a disadvantage. But don’t tell me you don’t work twice as hard as other people to make up for it. It’s almost scary how capable you are.”

And she is. I know how hard she always studied for school, because Noah boasted about her grades. But that’s just part of it. Even with the previous, useless prosthetic, she still made a point to cook actual meals for herself and Noah. She takes care of their tiny apartment, and it’s always clean and cozy when we come over.

Even though it’s hard, she keeps looking for a job. Noah wouldn’t let her work until she graduated, but he can’t stop her now, and she’s determined to find something.

When Harlow snorts, shaking her head, I grip her left hand and look at her. “You work so hard,” I say, my voice low. “And in all that, you still find time to…”

I cut myself off, knowing that what I almost said would earn me a kick to the balls. But it’s too late. She narrows her eyes at me, and something tells me she knows exactly what I was about to say.

“To what, Jack?”

I squirm, but there’s nothing for it, so I say it, keeping my face impassive. “To fuck around.”

Harlow remains tense for a moment, but when I glance at her calmly and don’t add anything, she exhales a long breath and nods.

“All right. Give me something stronger. Guess I need it now.”

I just manage to generously spike her soda and move my crate away when the guys come back. We sit and talk for half an hour, and I watch in anticipation as Harlow drains her can, wondering what she’ll do. She doesn’t really look any different from normal, maybe a bit glassy-eyed. When the boys go for another smoke, I shuffle over.

“How is it going, princess?”

She looks at me, her face flushed, pupils blown wide, and my breath hitches in my throat. Damn. Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.

“Wanna know why I fuck around’?” she asks, sounding kinda melancholy. She’s not angry, so I give her a cautious nod, because hell, I’ve always wanted to know. She gives me a small smile and nods at my bag. “Give me more first. I want to get drunk so I don’t remember this tomorrow. It’s pathetic enough talking about it.”

I shrug and pour her more rum. She takes a sip, her mouth twisting, and wipes her mouth, looking at me with glazed eyes.

“Careful,” I murmur, feeling bad for getting her drunk so I can get her secrets out of her. That doesn’t stop me, though. “Since you don’t usually drink, this will knock you out.”

As if to prove this is exactly what she wants, Harlow gulps down more, making such a disgusted face, I can’t help but laugh. When she settles the can at her feet and doesn’t say anything, I carefully lace my fingers through hers. Her hand is warm and small, her skin soft, a bit red across the knuckles.

She flinches as I run my thumb over her palm, her fingers twitching, and looks up with wide eyes. Fuck. I freeze, staring at her. With her cheeks colored, eyes so open and dazed, and lips parted to reveal the pink tip of her tongue, she looks almost… aroused.

But I haven’t done anything. I simply took her hand. Yet when Harlow wets her lips, clearing her throat, my suspicion turns into certainty. She wants me. The thought sends a pleasant tingle down my spine, even though I know nothing’s gonna happen.

It’s like my cock doesn’t even know what’s good for it, though, because it fills up rapidly, tingling when the barbells tighten.

Harlow grips my hand and looks away, but then her eyes dart back at me and she slowly raises our joined hands, wetting her lips.

“Because I’m looking for this,” she whispers, her fingertips digging in. “I call them sparks. It’s… When someone touches me, I get this… this rush… And the easiest way to get people to touch me is, you know. To let them fuck me.”

I blink, staring at her, when realization slowly sinks in. Harlow just handed me the fucking key to her everything and I don’t even stop to think before I decide to use it. Right now.

My heart is in my throat, beating wildly, when I slowly turn to her and reach for her cheek. With just my index finger, I slowly trace the curve of it, and Harlow gasps, eyes flaring with open want.

“Do they touch you like this?” I murmur, because a sick, rabid jealousy boils in my gut, and I have an urge to strangle each and every one of those men who gave her sparks.

But Harlow snorts softly before drawing in a sharp breath when my finger reaches her jaw and follows its shape down to her chin.

“N-not usually,” she says, swallowing with difficulty. “I… I sometimes ask for it but… They are more interested in touching me elsewhere.”

I huff with derision, my jealousy settling. Of course they are. Fucking animals. But then, what does she expect?

“So what kind of touch gives you those sparks?” I ask softly, teasing my fingers down her neck.

She releases a shaky breath and tilts her head back, giving me better access. Her pulse is wild, fluttering fast, and I press the tip of my finger to it, feeling her blood rushing with excitement. With arousal. For me.

“Like… like this,” she answers, her unsteady voice making my dick twitch.

Holy hell, this is fucking sublime. Just seeing the pleasure and need painted on her face makes me want to keep going and never stop. Even if she only wants me to touch her so innocently, even if she won’t touch me back, I’m already addicted.

“J-Jack,” she moans when I slowly unzip her hoodie, just enough to reveal her collarbones, which I gently caress with my fingers. She’s shaking and panting, and fuck, but she looks like she’s about to come. It’s wild, and I can hardly believe it.

I get only a brief warning when boots thud on the porch outside. I jerk away from Harlow, shooting her a sharp look, and she yanks her zip up, grabbing her can and taking a long, mouth-twisting gulp. When the guys enter the room a few seconds later, she’s still flushed and breathing too fast, but no one seems suspicious. Noah sits down with a grunt, giving her just a perfunctory glance, and I slowly let out a breath, sipping my beer.

I don’t say much when the guys talk about some asshole client in Caden’s landscaping job, just sit there with my nerves jittering. Will they go for another cigarette break? I know it’s pretty late, so Noah will want to take Harlow home, but I still hope for one last chance to touch her before she leaves.

It’s not like I can do it out in the open. Or when she’s sober. I don’t think she’ll let me do this again, not when she knows so well Noah’s against it. But tonight? Her inhibitions are gone, and fuck me, but I’ll use it. And is that really bad? It’s not like I’m going to fuck her. I’ll just touch her face. There’s nothing more innocent than that.

I cast furtive glances her way, kinda admiring the way she sips her rum with a straight face, only her eyes watering slightly. She can be sneaky, even when drunk. Just another thing I love about her.

When Caden gives me a wink and gets up, reaching for his cigarettes, I could kiss him. Somehow, he knows. Creepy fucker, it’s like he’s psychic or something.

“One last smoke, gentlemen.” Silas and Noah get up, and I make a point of looking bored while they shuffle out through the door.

It gives me wicked pleasure that Noah is the one who insists on them smoking outside even when we’re in this crappy hole. He doesn’t want Harlow to get lung cancer.

“Where were we?” I ask, standing up on legs that are just a bit unsteady. My dick, which has settled, comes back to life as I stand over her, Harlow’s face turned up and so wanton, I want to kiss her.

“Touch me, Jack,” she whispers hoarsely, and I drop to my knees, my hands already reaching for her face.

I cradle her cheeks in my palms, thumbs stroking over her soft skin, and she releases a shuddering breath, yanking the zip of her hoodie all the way down. She leans back on her hands, offering herself to me, and my cock throbs at the sight.

I have to take a bracing breath to remind myself what the goal here is, because my hands want to stray to her tits and fly, but that’s not what she wants. She can get that from anyone, after all. I want to give her what no one else can.

Slowly, I let my hands slide down her face to her throat, putting her in a loose collar. Harlow’s eyes widen, her breath hitches, and I slowly tighten my hold, breathing fast through parted lips. “This feel good, princess?”

She gives me a jerky nod, and I tighten even more, until her blush deepens, and I let go, one hand going to her cheek, the other to her nape. I scratch up the back of her head gently, burying my fingers in her hair, and her eyes flutter as if to close when she releases a small sound.

I gently pull her head back, baring her throat, and trail my fingers over it, staring at her face. She breathes hard, her eyes squeezed shut, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I only hesitate a moment before leaning down to drop a soft kiss right under her jaw.

She jerks when my lips touch her skin, and I feel the vibration in her throat when she moans. It’s like she forgot where we are, because she’s loud, and I press a finger to her lips, making her breath catch.

“Shh. Don’t give us away.”

She trembles, her breaths growing frantic, but when I trail small, fluttery kisses down her throat to her collarbone, she’s quiet. And when she puts her hands on me, the prosthetic on my shoulder, her other hand on the back of my head, it’s my turn to suppress a groan.

“Fuck, princess,” I murmur, licking along her collarbone, the taste of her skin addictive. “I want to touch you all over. Kiss you everywhere.”

She gasps, shaking harder the longer I caress her, my touch growing feverish as my cock bucks in my jeans. Her back arches, legs falling wide open on either side of me, but I resist the urge to slide my hands down to her ass.

Even though I want to press closer and let her grind on me, I force a deep breath into my lungs and run my fingers up, caressing the sensitive skin behind her ears, gently kissing down her right arm. Harlow grips my biceps with both hands, and I shiver at the touch of her prosthetic fingers. I leave a wet kiss right over the place where her skin gives way to matte black and blow on it.

She grips me harder, her body tensing when a guttural moan rips out of her. She arches, instinctively pressing into me, and for a moment, she’s as if suspended, entire body locked and rigid, until she slumps forward, pressing her forehead to my shoulder.

Before I can ask if she actually came, I hear Caden’s loud voice, so I frantically pull away, falling on my crate and breathing hard. I have just enough time to adjust my dick in my pants before they enter.

When I look at Harlow, her face is red with a blush, eyes averted. Soon, we all part ways and go home, and she still won’t look at me. Not even once.