The Halloween Surprise

by Seth King

  Josh: Bathroom, I’ll be out in a second.

  I wipe my face with a paper towel and try to do something with my destroyed hair. But I can’t. My phone vibrates again, telling me I have no more time to deliberate.

  Because I think Harry is texting me now.

  And if it’s him – how the fuck did he get my number?

  Harry Young: Tell me why you left, Joshua.

  Josh Nash: Whoa, you have my number?!

  Josh Nash: How???

  Harry: Don’t worry about that.

  Josh: Okay, stalker…

  Harry: Enough. Where are you right now?

  Josh: The bathroom, actually.

  Harry: Why?

  Josh: …Trying to get my heart to calm down, because that was weird?!

  Harry: Tell me why it was weird.

  Harry: Why did you leave like that?

  Harry: I mean, were you raised under a bridge? Haven’t you any manners?!

  Josh: Harry, I was…

  Harry: Tell me.

  Josh: Can you cool it with the dominatrix shit for a second?

  Josh: And like, back up.

  Josh: We’re roommates.

  Josh: Who barely know each other.

  Josh: And we’re gonna have to face each other every day…

  Harry: Which is exactly the point. We can’t run from this.

  Harry: Whatever that was, whatever just happened.

  Harry: It was hot, wasn’t it?

  Josh: Never said it wasn’t. You know what you look like.

  Harry. So tell me why the hell you left, then.

  Josh: Because…because I just said why! We’re roommates, and roommates don’t do this!

  Harry: I don’t care. That’s boring. Tell me another reason. A real one.

  Josh: Because…

  Josh: Because…

  Josh: Because we’re roommates!

  Josh: And that’s strange!

  Harry: Booooring.

  Harry: It’s a full moon. On Halloween. Stranger things have happened.

  Josh: Like…?

  Harry: Look.

  Harry: I can’t explain this in any way that makes sense, but your ass did things to me, spiritual things, and I want to be balls deep in you.

  Josh: ?!?!

  Harry: Just kidding.

  Harry: But seriously.

  Harry: Don’t you ever think accidents happen on purpose sometimes?

  Josh: …

  Harry: What?

  Josh: It’s just that…

  Josh: Well, wow, first of all.

  Josh: Also, nobody calls me Joshua, not even my parents, and it’s kinda hot as fuck. You’re so formal.

  Harry: Well I’m glad you like it, Joshua.

  Josh: There you go again.

  Josh: But I just want to know one thing. Seriously.

  Harry: Yes?

  Josh: Tell me the reason, the real reason, why you were so distant with me up until now.

  Josh: Because this makes zero sense.

  Josh: …

  Josh: Hello? It’s been four minutes!

  Harry: Sorry, I was just thinking.

  Josh: Well, then?

  Harry: Bear with me.

  Harry: For months now I’ve been under the assumption that I was missing out on something, that something out there that I should’ve been experiencing was just beyond my reach.

  Harry: But tonight, I realized that maybe all along, that “thing” I wanted and needed was living in my apartment instead.

  Harry: …

  Harry: Now you’re the one being silent.

  Josh: Sorry, I was just kind of stunned.

  Josh: Makes sense, I guess.

  Josh: And all it took to open your eyes was a glimpse of my infamous twerking skills!

  Harry: Come to my car, Joshua.

  Josh: What?!?

  Harry: I don’t like crowds. Especially hot, sweaty ones. I’m going home, and I want you to come with me.

  Josh: This is crazy, Harry.

  Harry: That’s why I trust it.

  Josh: Okay, Rose from Titanic.

  Harry: Never seen it.

  Josh: Okay, you really are closeted…

  Harry: Stop. I’m serious, Joshua. What else do you have to do that’s so pressing?

  Josh: Oh, come on.

  Josh: And have you ever even been…you know…with a guy…in that way?

  Harry: No, but I’m assuming you’ll fill me in on anything I need to be filled in on.

  Harry: And then I’ll fill you.

  Harry: Come now, Joshua, please.

  Harry: ….

  Josh: You know what? Fine.

  Harry: “Fine?” Don’t sound too enthusiastic, dear.

  Josh: Okay, then:

  Josh: YIPPIE YIPPIE YAY, I CAN’T WAIT TO DO THIS POTENTIALLY RECKLESS THING THAT COULD VERY WELL END UP BITING US BOTH IN THE ASS FOR THE NEXT SIX MONTHS!!!

  Harry: Better. At least there was some spirit to it.

  Josh: Good.

  Josh: Oh, and Harry?

  Harry: Yes?

  Josh: I lied.

  Josh: I WAS watching you today.

  Josh: See you soon. And where’s your car?

  Harry: You’re already torturing me, aren’t you?

  Harry: I’ll flash my lights.

  Harry: Come now.

  Josh Nash

  “Ryan, I’m leaving.”

  I find Ryan by the bar and bid them adieu, but from the look on their face, they are not ready to be alone yet.

  “Huh? What?” they ask, adjusting the plastic crown they won onstage.

  “I have to go,” I say, taking one of the two-dollar “acid green” shots from their hand and swallowing it.

  “Hey, that was mine!”

  “Oh, God. Sorry to break your bank, I know they were super-duper expensive.”

  “Whatever,” Ryan scoffs. “That’s two dollars I’ll never get back. And where are you going? Are you leaving with that sexy Bruce Wayne guy you were slut dancing all over on the dance floor? Who was that, anyway?”

  I feel something flutter within me. Then I push it down. Part of me wants to scream it to the heavens: Harry Young wants me!!!

  But obviously I can’t, and I wouldn’t even if I had the chance. At least Ryan only saw us from afar and wouldn’t have gotten a good enough look to see Harry’s eyes and recognize him. Thank God for costume parties, right?

  “Mind your beeswax,” I say. “He’s just a new friend.”

  Ryan rolls their eyes to the heavens, then back down at hell. “Fine, leave me alone, like you always do…poor little me, forever a single sob sister…”

  “Um. Didn’t you go to an orgy last night?!”

  “Uh, yeah, but I didn’t leave with any numbers, duh!”

  I look around and then soon set my eyes on Scott, a guy who dated my friend Sparkle, who works as a drag queen.

  I grab Scott by the arm and pull him over.

  “Hey, Scott. Wanna make out with a hot slut in a dress?”

  Scott blinks, then looks Ryan up and down. “I mean, hey, I don’t know you, but…nice dress! You look like that hooker from Pretty Woman, actually.”

  Ryan bats their eyelashes like nobody’s business. “Aw…you don’t have to be so sweet…”

  “I’m serious, you’re a dead ringer for her!”

  And with that, Ryan moves in for the kill. By the time I make it to the front doors, I look back and see them groping each other like horny little pre-teens.

  Checkmate.

  ~

  Outside, I take a deep breath and then get into Harry’s car, which is parked across the street, next to another bar. He’s slid his mask up his face so he can drive, and his hair is wild and beautiful. Without speaking, he puts his hand between my legs.

  “Well, hello.”

  “H-” he begins, but just then a pretty brunette leans into his open window.

  “Harry fucking Young!” she giggles, her boobs and hair falling everywhere, as I roll my
eyes. The car is so dark, she can’t see me, or see where his hand is – but regardless, he doesn’t move it.

  “Lizzie,” he nods coolly. “How are you tonight? Happy Halloween. That test in Dr. Leighton’s class was no joke, eh?”

  “How am I?” she slurs blankly, swaying a little. She’s some kind of slutty version of the Joker’s girlfriend – what was her name, anyway? – and it looks like she’s been partying for far longer than we have. “I should be asking you how you are. You look so…hot. Nice suit. What are you, anyway?”

  His face is annoyed, but he sits and talks to her for a second – and soon she rests a hand on his shoulder.

  I clench my jaw. Great, I’m being reminded yet again of how desirable he is. Suddenly I regret ever walking out on him. He clearly has a million backup plans – who was I to just turn him away like that? I mean, this is Harry Young we’re talking about – what was I thinking?

  So I lean into his ear and whisper the filthiest thing I’ve ever said in my life. He tenses, grips the wheel, and then turns to Lizzie.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” he says, and she blinks and steps back. And just like that, he throws the gearbox and speeds down the street.

  “Whoa,” I say, being pressed back into the leather seat, which he has pre-heated for me. “The Bruce Wayne jokes weren’t too far off, huh?”

  He waves me off. A funny detail is that he even drives a sleek black Cadillac sedan, which always struck me as such an odd choice for someone his age. He’s like a dad with his car and his clothes and his demeanor – which also makes sense, come to think of it, considering how many times I’ve heard that Ashley girl refer to him as “Daddy” through the walls…

  “You’re hard for me,” he says, ignoring my Batman jokes. “I’ve never felt a guy be hard for me before.”

  Whoa, again…

  “Lizzie seemed hard for you, too,” I tease, trying to add some lightness. “Who was she, anyway?”

  “I barely know her. She doesn’t matter. You matter tonight. Now put on your seatbelt,” he says, and I do.

  “Thank you.”

  I watch him drive, his eyes so intense they are flashing. “You’re welcome. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a little…spooky?”

  “I prefer direct.”

  “That, too…but trust me, I’ve heard some pretty…intense things from your room.”

  “I’ve never had a complaint,” he says.

  “Is that right?”

  He gives me a dark look, then shrugs. “I fuck hard and I don’t apologize for that. I slap asses. I pull hair. I suck on toes. All of it is consensual, and safe words are established every time. I have no qualms about my sex life, Joshua.”

  “How did you know you were like that?”

  He laughs and rolls his eyes. “Let me guess, you want me to have some hideous backstory to explain why I’m so intense in bed. Daddy walked out, Mommy used to hit me, I was thrown into foster care, whatever. No, none of that happened. I had a very boring life. I just like to fuck, Joshua.”

  “Got it.”

  “Now say it again,” he says softly but sternly.

  “Say what again?”

  “Say that you were watching me. And that you want me. I want to hear it.”

  I close my eyes as he turns onto a wider street. “I was watching you, Harry.”

  “Okay. Tell me why, then.”

  “Because…”

  “Yes?”

  “Because…”

  “Say it.”

  The last shot I took with Ryan finally hits, and I grab my knees and take a deep breath. “Because you’ve been my weird little fantasy for months, and I lowkey want you to fuck the hell out of me. Is that enough?”

  I can’t believe my own words. Can he, though? I can’t tell, since all he does is stare at the road.

  “Tell me how long you’ve wanted this,” he says soon, very quietly.

  “Um…”

  “Have you ever watched me before?”

  I bite my lip.

  “What?” he asks, but I look away.

  “Yes,” I say, and then fill him in on the outdoor shower story.

  “I knew,” he says soon.

  “You did?”

  “I felt eyes on me. I didn’t know they were yours, but I remember the day. Why do you think I stayed showering for so long?”

  “So you…you like being watched?”

  “Sometimes,” he says, and then goes silent.

  I betray myself by getting even harder. He glances down, then makes a face like he’s in pain or something.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, but he ignores me.

  “So. I want you, and you want me. How are we going to rectify this problem?” he asks as we get deeper into Savannah’s historic district.

  “Um…”

  “Say something, please.”

  I start to get a little annoyed. “There, that, that’s exactly one of the problems – you don’t speak to me for months, you bring home a different girl every night of every weekend, and suddenly you’re coming onto me at a gay club? Make it make sense for me.”

  “I do apologize,” he says after a pause. “I was going through a lot. But don’t ever confuse silence with indifference. Trust me, growing up with a Brit for a mum, that’s something I had to learn firsthand.”

  “What?”

  “Europeans are very…cool with their emotions. Controlled. Clearly something rubbed off on me.”

  Please don’t talk about rubbing right now…

  “And what’s this business about a different girl every night?” he asks, amused.

  “I mean, I hear noises, and I hear you walking back there with girls pretty often, so…”

  He smirks again. “Girls, as in, plural? What makes you think these were different partners? Have you ever looked, for yourself?”

  “Well, I mean, not really…I just hear things from my bedroom when I’m getting ready to go out…I just assume, you know…”

  He flexes the hand resting on the wheel. You know, the hand that isn’t currently caressing my dick…

  “Exactly,” he smiles. “You don’t look. And you were wrong. For your information, it just so happens that I’m a one-person-at-a-time kinda guy, and Ashley also just happens to enjoy having sex with me quite frequently. A little too frequently, probably, now that I think about it, but don’t mention that I said that.”

  “…Ashley?”

  He screw up his face. “Yes, Ashley. Quite American a name, isn’t it? She’s my former…well, what do you call it here in the State? Oh yes, ass call. A person who calls you up and comes round for sex.”

  “Ass call?” I laugh. “You mean, booty call?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Sorry, whatever, I didn’t live in the States until my tweens, I missed out on some phrases. Anyway, she just moved to Atlanta for grad school and told me she was going to date other people, though, so it’s done.”

  I contemplate this. It still doesn’t add up to me, though. She really wanted that much sex from him? I even know gay married couples who don’t have that much sex.

  Nobody can be that good at sex – right?

  “But…all those sounds…and screams…and slaps…and moans…”

  “I already mentioned I liked rough sex, Joshua,” he says firmly, and my cock strains against the fabric of my costume. “That doesn’t mean it’s happening with ten thousand partners. Ashley and I had a certain…dynamic we would fall into, a somewhat rough one, and that’s that. But God, now I’m embarrassed…I should’ve known our cheap apartment had paper walls…”

  “Um…”

  “What?”

  “Trust me, I didn’t mind…”

  He smiles, his eyes bright, his face a little red.

  “So you listened, then?” he asks.

  “Maybe.”

  “And would you touch yourself while you listened?”

  “Maybe.”

  He wraps his hand around my cock and makes a face.

  “Wha
t?” I ask.

  “It’s just…bigger than it seemed in your outfit, no offense.”

  “None taken. I’m a grower, not a shower.”

  “Well I’m glad I made it grow.”

  Well, then.

  I cross my arms, my cheeks hot. I can’t deny that I’m relieved that he isn’t the man whore I always assumed he was.

  And pleased.

  But…no.

  I can’t be those things.

  He is my fucking roommate.

  And his hand is on my dick…

  To distract myself I look out the window at Savannah. The trick-or-treaters have been replaced by adult bar-hoppers in more…well, adult costumes, and every brick townhouse is decked out in piles of gourds and constellations of cobwebs. It’s the only thing that could take my mind off the magnificence of Harry in his tuxedo – God, I love Savannah. Especially during any holiday. We rely off the dollars of visiting tourists, meaning Halloween is an autumnal paradise and Christmas is basically a month-long parade. And don’t even mention the shit-show that is St. Patrick’s Day on the river…

  “God,” I sigh.

  “Yes?”

  “Just look at this perfect little town…it’s like a Halloween diorama come to life…the other day Ryan and I walked through Forsyth Park with the leaves all changing, and we probably took twelve thousand photos. Don’t ever offer to take pics for Ryan, by the way – it’ll turn into a four-hour photo shoot, whether you agreed to it or not.”

  In my peripheral vision I see his mouth shrink. “Speaking of that, I need to ask you something.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t be offended, but…why, exactly, do you like Halloween so much, Joshua? Is it, like…some kind of mental thing?”