Nothing Like the Movies

Liz

“I cannot wear this.”

“Why not?” Campbell stood behind me, looking at my reflection in the mirror over my shoulder. “If you want to trick him, this is the way. He’s going to be looking for a Liz-coded costume, so he will never even consider that this is you.”

My stomach was full of nervous butterflies. It was all well and good what my dad said, about me not having to worry about my confusing Wes feelings, but it made things feel precarious when I was preparing to go to a party that could end with me having to go on a date with him tomorrow.

Did I want to?

Definitely not.

But his idiotic balcony attempt had left me shaken. I wasn’t Little Liz anymore, but I wasn’t unaffected by the lengths he’d gone to either.

I looked at my reflection and wanted to cover myself with a cardigan. I was wearing Campbell’s costume, which was a black latex Batgirl dress paired with thigh-high black boots. The dress was short and showed some cleavage, but the part that had me feeling like I looked obscene was how tight it was.

Skintight, shiny black, no room for secrets.

“Yeah, but it’s so…” I trailed off, turning around and making sure it covered my ass.

“Watch yourself before I’m offended,” Campbell said, crossing her arms. “You look hot, and your face will be covered. No one will know it’s you unless you want them to.”

I looked at my reflection again. No one will know it’s me.

“Just enjoy it and have fun.” She tilted her head. “Feel sorry for me, that I’m stuck wearing the cat costume.”

“The costume from Cats the Musical is cute, though,” I defended. “You’ll look adorable.”

“Yeah, adorable isn’t hot, but I’ll make it work.” She grinned, which made me worry for her. She’d stayed up all night talking to Wade on the phone, and she was downright smitten. I liked how happy she was, but I was nervous she’d end up hurt.

Even with a good guy, things could change quickly, but with a cocky dude like Wade? It was worrisome.

She said, “I’m gonna go change, then let’s do a shot before we go, okay?”

We did a couple of shots and Leo fed the raccoons before we locked up and loaded into an Uber. Campbell was dressed as Bombalurina, Taylor’s character in Cats; Clark was Thor; and Leo was Cupid (he’d sewn a confetti pocket into his toga-thing and was very excited to randomly toss love confetti at people).

“Okay, remember—if you need to talk to me, do it quietly,” I said, my buzz making me excited about the challenge of not being discovered. “All Wes has to do is follow Thor around, and he’ll find me in a second.”

“Like I’m going to be hanging out near you,” he said. “I have my own person I’m trying to find.”

“What?” Campbell said, making the Uber driver look at us in the rearview mirror. “Who are you looking for?”

He just shrugged. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“What does that mean?” Leo asked.

“It means a world of interesting people are awaiting us at the party,” Clark said in that very Clarky way of his, where it seemed like he was being ironic but he actually was not.

We rolled up our ski masks (decorated to match our costumes, of course) on the ride there, but when we pulled up in front of Nick’s house, we lowered them over our faces.

“It’s go time,” Campbell said, opening the door.

We probably terrified the Uber driver as we climbed out with our faces covered, and when we got inside, the party was already wild.

Which wasn’t a surprise.

Everyone loved the Ski Mask-erade, so it was packed. The house—a guesthouse in Bel Air—was brimming with people, all in ridiculously decorated ski masks, but even over the loud noise, I heard Wes’s laugh right after we arrived.

I couldn’t see him, but his laugh was unmistakable.

I could close my eyes and be so many places with that laugh. That laugh was the cohesive thread, the little recurring melody that showed up in so many scenes of my life, like Mia and Sebastian’s theme in La La Land.

Always there, playing in the background.

My eyes searched the crowded living room, and it seemed like it should’ve taken me longer, but I found him in a quick minute.

Wes was Batman.

Talk about ironic.

He was wearing black baseball pants, a yellow belt, and a long-sleeved black Under Armour workout shirt that had a yellow bat—made of paper—taped across the front. He was laughing hard at whatever the horse beside him was saying, and I realized as I watched him that I probably would’ve found him even if he hadn’t been laughing.

Because no one else moved like Wes.

I mean, of course there was the tallness, the long arms and legs that hinted at his identity, but it was more than that. The backtilt of his head when he laughed, the prominent Adam’s apple on that neck, just below where the mask ended, and the relaxed way he moved his body, like he could just as easily pop out silly boy-band choreography as he could bench-press a car.

It was like Wes was his own brand of human.

Also—it looked like he was wearing one of those padded-with-fake-muscles costumes, only it was his actual body.

“I need a drink,” I said, pulling Campbell with me toward the keg as I wondered three things.

Would Wes be able to recognize me?

Did I want him to?

Was I actually going to go out with him if he did?