Candy Hearts | Watty's 2015

| 19 | Saturday, October 31

| 1 9 | Saturday, October 31

Priya, as it turns out, is very into the holidays. Arizona, not so much-except for Christmas. She really likes Christmas; too much, it seems, at times.

The week of Halloween, Arizona's roommate begins decorating their room, pumpkin lights strung up across the ceiling, plastic jack-o-lanterns set on the windowsills, a bowl of black and orange candy by the door, somehow always filled with the same amount, no matter how many Arizona takes every time she leaves.

Priya had been absolutely appalled when she'd heard that Arizona'd only dressed up twice in her entire life, once as a hippie when she was nine, and another time as a gumball machine in eighth grade. That Halloween had been a rough day; she wouldn't recommend that anybody dress up as a gumball machine for their costume.

"You're going to dress up," Priya had stated, shaking her head and spinning in her roll-y chair, hair tangled around pointer finger. "Our dorm and the two others near us always throw a Halloween party at our common room, since it's the biggest. It's super fun, and you're going."

And that's how Arizona winds up in the corner of the lit-up common room, clad in a pink skirt, a neon off-the-shoulder top, purple tights, huge hoop earrings, and a side ponytail. She pulls up her leg warmer so it's the same length as the other and her right hand clasps lightly around her left upper-arm. A trip to a local second-hand shop and Priya's friends' closets had scrounged up an easy 80's chick costume, which she is now kind of regretting, as she stands alone. Priya had gone to dance, but not before asking Arizona about a thousand times if she's okay being on her own for a few minutes-which Arizona convinced her that she is-but the lights seem fluorescent on Arizona's skin, which looks a sickly color against her neon clothing. Maybe she should have just gone with Katniss, or Hermione, or something. No matter the fact that she would get mistaken for another person probably a million times by the end of the night if she did.

The room is dim, the bass is pounding through the floorboards. A recognizable pop song is dissolving her, and she feels dizzy from heat and light and sound. Arizona tips the cup at her lips once more, to find that it's empty. Sighing, she kicks off the wall she had been leaning against, making her way to the drinks table. Tara is there, popping a can of soda open. The redhead smiles at Arizona, tilting the can towards her in question. Nodding, Arizona stretches her cup out, and Tara pours some Coke in.

"Having fun?" Tara asks with risen eyebrows. She's dressed in all black, a stark contrast to her fire hair, and her her leather pants cling to her mile-long legs like another layer of skin. She doesn't seem to notice all the eyes glued to her, and Arizona smiles slightly in amusement.

"Sure."

"Come on, don't be like that! Dance with us."

"You really don't want me to."

"I beg to differ."

Arizona shakes her head, laughing, and sips at her drink. Tara nudges her with her elbow.

"C'mon, it'll be fun. You'll enjoy yourself."

When Tara grabs her by the hands and pulls her to the center, where everyone dances, Arizona doesn't protest. Actually, she does, a little, but then decides that there is no point in wasting energy on trying to convince Tara of not doing something. Nobody can convince Tara to do or not do anything once she sets her mind on something. It's actually a bit scary how decisive she is.

Tara drags Arizona to the group of girls to the side of the floor, and Arizona kind of just bobs up and down uncertainly. Heather laughs and yanks Arizona to her, holding the blonde's hand above her head as she twirls under it, which doesn't quite work out due to the fact that they are in a mosh-pit, not a ballroom. Heather stumbles and Arizona straightens her out.