Cameron Cole has a plan.
After yet another relationship ends because of certain shortcomings-literally-Cameron decides it's time to swear off dating and focus her energy into her junior year at the University of Charlotte. There's an internship up...
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If there's one street in the world that knows how to do Halloween right, it's Sycamore fuckin' Row.
Picture a long, uneven street just off campus, lined with a mix of mid-century fixer-uppers and Southern-style bungalows that has quickly become ground zero for college chaos. The street itself is kind of a mess—cracked sidewalks, streetlights that flicker ominously, and lawns that are more weeds than grass.
Most of the homes here are bought or rented by students, and they just kind of... stay that way, passed down like some kind of unholy torch from one class of graduates to the next.
A few unlucky civilian families still live here—bless their hearts—but for the most part, it's sacred ground for debauchery. A historical landmark for some of the best and worst nights a UC student will have in their life.
And I just know tonight's gonna be one of those nights.
Every house tries to outdo the others: spooky decorations, strobe lights, fog machines, and soundtracks of creaking doors and bloodcurdling screams pour into the street. It's like the students went out, bought as many Halloween items as possible, and just threw them anywhere and everywhere.
There's music blasting from every house—Monster Mash, Thriller, and Disturbia merging together in one horrible, dizzying remix.
The streets are flooded with people in costumes: pirates, a group of Minions following an appointed Gru, and so, so many slutty hot dogs. There's a guy in a banana costume doing a keg stand on someone's porch.
And I can't even feel my feet. Haven't since we first arrived.
Which, honestly, is probably for the best, because otherwise, I'd be in searing pain right now. These platform white heels? The ones currently strapped to my feet like the world's sexiest torture devices? Yeah, those were Jude's idea.
I'd planned on wearing sneakers, but the second I pulled them out, Jude acted like I'd just committed a damn hate crime.
To be fair, it wasn't his worst idea. I look fucking hot.
The heels make my legs look amazing, and for once, people don't tower over me as much. But holy shit, I'm going to be icing my toes for the rest of my natural life.
The white satin mini dress clings to my curves, the boning in the bodice pushing up my boobs to an absolutely dangerous level. My thighs are on full display, and the short skirt flares out just enough to cover the necessities, but there's no way I'm bending over in this thing.
Add the satin gloves, the tiara perched on my head, the oversized black sunglasses, and the vintage-looking headphones hanging around my neck, and voilà—Her Royal Highness Mia Thermopolis from The Princess Diaries.
Okay, technically, I'm slutty Mia Thermopolis, but details.
The glasses are my favorite part, though. Not because they complete the costume, but because they're doing an excellent job hiding the fact that I took a turn on Yasmine's joint earlier in the night.
