Love Notes

Chapter 5

"Sexy nurse. Sexy kitten. Ooh! Sexy dinosaur?" I point at a girl wearing a green bustier and miniskirt getting out of a car ahead of us at Carly's Saturday night. "I win."

"Not so fast. Sexy Mr. Rogers."

I burst out laughing as Pen points at a girl in a sweater vest, her hair spray-painted gray. "Ew. And also amazing."

Carly's house isn't in the country like my dad's, but it's huge. Two storeys, stone, with columns flanking the double doors. Ten bedrooms, which she likes to tell everyone. I'm guessing the indoor great room will be packed full of drunk teenagers instead of its usual charity events.

As we make our way up the stairs to the open front doors, I'm grateful we decided to take Pen's mom up on her offer to drop us off.

It's my second time in this house. The first time was Carly's party last year, where Pen and I got eliminated from the contest in the first hour, forced to wear our stamped hands for the rest of the night.

Now, from the way bodies flood the hallways, dressed as all kinds of real and imagined creatures, with music pounding from unseen speakers, it appears the entire junior and senior classes are here.

"I'm glad you decided to go through with our plan," my friend calls, poking at the cupcake on my head.

I nod to the giant heart hanging from her wrist that tops off her Polly Pocket ensemble. "Solidarity."

"Do you know what Tyler's dressed as?"

I shake my head. "He left early."

The other night in the laundry room left me craving more than tortured looks.

No more. I'm here to have fun. Not to worry about what Tyler's up to. The rest of the student body can obsess over him.

We follow the flow of traffic and end up in the kitchen, where Carly is dressed as a mermaid, surrounded by her minions.

Each is equipped with an uncapped bingo dabber. Each surveys the scene hungrily, as if looking for their next victim.

"That's subtle," Pen mutters, leaning in.

"Huh?"

"The auditions for the musical? The Little Mermaid? She's going all out."

If there was any doubt of whether trying out would cause a shitstorm, it's clear now. It'd mean going head-to-head with her and her minions.

There's no sign of Carly's parents—or any adults actually—as we fill our cups.

"What is it?" I shout at the guy doing the honors. He shrugs, and I sniff the liquid. My stomach turns.

Sweet, but there's a heavy, unmistakeable scent of liquor underneath.

A few people comment on our costumes, laughing, and I grab Pen's hand and tug her toward the living room. A stage is set up in the middle, and my gaze drags to it.

Girls surround the band, dancing as close as they can get. It's not for the music. It's for the four boys on stage.

Brandon's a skeleton. The drummer's dressed some kind of hula girl, a coconut bra on his chest. The bassist has a unicorn horn.

And Tyler...

I shake my head.

"What is he?" Pen asks, taking in his all-black outfit, the dull silver crown on his head at an angle.

"A prince," I answer immediately.

Knowing Tyler, he was going for irony. But it's not irony that has me memorizing the way his flowy button-down shirt skims the muscled lines of his body, the way his hair falls over his face under the crooked crown.