Hard As Steel

by McKinley May

  “Internship-worthy? God, I hope so.” I mumble, letting that last minute anxiety slip through. Although I'm confident in my work, self-doubt always seems to cripple me in the days leading up to due dates.

  He cocks his head at my anxious tone. “Hope? There's no hope involved, babe. It's going to be great and you know it.”

  When I give him a weak smile in return, he frowns and immediately tugs me back into his grasp, cocooning his strong arms around me in a comforting embrace.

  “Try not to be so stressed, baby. If this is even half as good as any of your other articles, you've got that internship in the bag. And I'm not just saying that. You're so fucking talented, Rayne. Don't let doubt get you down.”

  He rubs my back and I melt against him, his encouraging words helping me to relax.

  “Thanks,” I mumble into his chest. “You know, you're kinda good at these pep talk things. You'd make a good coach.”

  I lift my head and kiss him again. After a few seconds, he groans and gently pushes me off.

  “Okay, you need to leave now because I'm about half a second from bending you over and fucking you right here on the couch, and I'm not about to give my roommates a free show. So get going.”

  With that, he throws my bag over one shoulder and grabs me by the waist, tossing me effortlessly over his other shoulder as he carries me to the front hall.

  He sets me down in front of the door. “When do you think you'll be done?” he questions, handing me my bag.

  “It'll probably take me the rest of the night to add in the stuff from today, and then tomorrow I'll be reading over and editing it a billion times until it's up to my standards. Definitely should be done by tomorrow night,” I say assuredly.

  Technically, I’ve been “done” for a while, barring today’s interview. But with my perfectionist tendencies, nothing is ever truly done.

  “And when's it due?”

  “Tuesday night at the meeting.”

  “Okay, make me a deal. If you finish everything by Monday night, promise me you'll reconsider coming to the Halloween party.”

  Before I can answer, Ellie pops up behind us and joins the conversation. “Rayne, you have to come to the Treehouse Terror Party! It's by far the best Halloween party at Windhaven and you can't miss it!”

  I chew on the inside of my cheek. Vaughn invited me a week or two ago, but I told him not to count on me being there.

  But now I've got Vaughn and Ellie on my back about going.

  Liam walks up and slings his arm around her shoulder. “You better fucking be there, Rayne,” he demands. “Best party of the whole year. Even Parker gets totally smashed.”

  Anddd there’s another one to add to the list.

  “I don't know. I'll try to make it,” I say, starting to come around to the idea. I'm sure I’ll have the finalized draft done by then, and it’ll be a good way to blow off some steam, almost like a “reward” for completing the feature.

  Plus, I spend practically all of my spare time here, so I’m probably a bona fide hostess of the party at this point.

  “Y’all can do a couple's costume!” Ellie suggests enthusiastically. Liam visibly recoils and lets out a low grumble.

  “Fuck, El. We're not doing one again, are we?”

  She hip bumps him. “Quit your whining. Of course we are.” She turns to us. “Last year we were Woody and Buzz. So cute!”

  “Cute?” Liam scowls. "I think the word you're looking for is humiliating, love.”

  I turn to Vaughn. “What's your opinion on couple's costumes?”

  He rubs his chin and lifts his shoulders. “Don't have one. I go as the same thing every year.”

  “What's that?”

  “A Windhaven soccer player.”

  “My man.” Liam laughs as he pats Vaughn on the back.

  “Y’all know we have an entire room at Tri Delt filled with costumes,” Ellie says. “One of my sorority sisters is the VP of the drama club, and she 'stores' all the excess theater outfits at the house. You're more than welcome to come scrounge through everything if you decide to come, Rayne.”

  A sly grin creeps across my face. “Actually, I think I'm going to leave that to Vaughn.” I turn to his flabbergasted face. “I’ll definitely make sure I'm at the party if you pick out a couple's costume for us. Let's see what you can come up with.”

  He shakes his head hesitantly. “I don't know about that, Raynie. Isn't picking out the couple costumes the girl's job?”

  I shrug casually, letting out a disinterested yawn. “You know, now that I think about it, I probably won't be able to make it to the party.”

  He holds up his hands in easy defeat. “Fine, fine. You win. I'll go over there tonight and take a look. I may even run by the costume store downtown and see what they have left.” A mischievous smile breaks across his face. “I think I can come up with something you'll appreciate.”

  I quirk a brow as I study his expression. I know that smile and I know it means trouble, so I immediately lay down some ground rules.

  “Nothing inappropriate, Steel. No key-and-lock, plug-and-socket type of crap. And nothing too scandalous. I refuse to parade around in a bra and underwear with a pair of animal ears and call it a costume.”

  He puts on a frown. “Awh shit, babe. You're no fun. You just nixed all of my ideas.”

  “Perv.” I stand on my tip toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek before twisting the doorknob to leave.

  “I’ll make sure he keeps it classy!” Ellie calls out after me. I wave as I head out the door, putting my faith in her to keep my crazy boyfriend in line.

  35

  “Okay, yep. Now I'm almost positive I've been here before,” Lexie proclaims as we walk past the Treehouse gate onto the property. She points towards the pool area. “The night is foggy at best, but I definitely remember that hot tub.”

  I grin as I watch Lexie examine the area, eyes wide as she takes it all in. When I'd invited her last night, she'd happily bailed on her other plans with the latest Lexie-reject and accepted. She told me the party sounded super familiar and that she may have ended up here when she was drunk out of her mind freshman year Halloween. As her eyes flit around the yard, recognition passes through them.

  “Yeah, that settles it. I was totally here before.” She nods towards a life-size pirate skeleton hanging from a tree. “I have a vivid memory of dancing with that guy, but that's about it. I wish I remembered more from that night. This place is completely insane.”

  “Try to go easy on the jello shots this year,” I instruct as I gaze around. Everything's still in set-up mode, but she's right; it looks fantastic.

  A makeshift dance floor's been constructed in front of a massive DJ booth, and outdoor string lights with bright orange and purple bulbs are hanging overhead, casting an eerie glow over the entire lawn. The Halloween decor is impressive as well—a plethora of carved pumpkins of all shapes and sizes, thick slabs of gray tombstones with funny epitaphs, and cobwebs strung throughout the trees set the mood for the holiday perfectly. They went all out and it shows.

  Lexie and I wave to Diego as he sets up a giant fog machine on the edge of the dance floor, and I spot one of the freshman defenders fiddling with a blinking strobe light behind him.

  “Let's go see if they need any help inside.” I grab Lexie's arm and pull her towards the main home.

  The moment we step through the door, we practically crash into Parker in the entryway, his vision blocked by a massive cauldron he's carrying.

  “Sorry, ladies. Coming through,” he says as he carefully maneuvers around us. He's about to walk through the door when he turns to face us.

  I chuckle when I notice his attire because of course he’s dressed up like Clark Kent—a Superman t-shirt peeking out beneath a purposely disheveled white button-down. He's like the boyish, blonde version of Superman.

  “Y’all want any of the Pumpkin Punch before it disappears? Solo cups to your left.”

  He tips his chin towards the red
plastic cups sitting on the foyer table beside us. Lexie grabs two as Parker lowers the cauldron. It's filled to the top with a foamy orange liquid, gummy eyeballs, and giant ice cubes in the shape of hands.

  “Be careful,” he warns. “This stuff is potent. It can really sneak up on you.”

  He grins widely and I get the feeling he's speaking from personal experience. We serve ourselves with the giant ladle swimming in the bowl, thanking him before he takes the punch down to the front yard.

  As we're sipping our drinks—which are absolutely delicious and taste nothing like alcohol (the world’s deadliest combination)—Lexie smiles as she gives me a once over.

  “I know I've already told you a hundred times, but your costume is so freaking cute. It's like the perfect combo of sexy and playful. The BF gets double thumbs up from me. You look amazing.”

  “Thanks, Lex. You do, too,” I say as I glance down at my get-up.

  I'm not gonna lie, I was more than a little nervous to see what Vaughn was going to pick out for me. I'd come home today after my last class to find a black box with a giant orange bow wrapped around it on our doorstep. When I got closer, I saw a pair of animal ears and a note attached that read Hope you were joking about the no lingerie rule ;) and I was completely regretting my decision to give him creative control over our outfits.

  I ripped open that box as fast as possible and was super relieved when I saw what was inside: a bodycon white dress with black spots, an attachable tail, and a cute little dog collar. No tight corsets, silk negligees, or lacy boy shorts to be seen, Thank God. I'd happily gotten dressed, even painting a few spots on my face to complete the ensemble, and I don't look half-bad if I do say so myself.

  “If you're a Dalmatian, what does that make Vaughn?” she questions, reaching out and straightening my dog ears.

  “He didn't tell me, but I have a hun—”

  My words lodge in my throat when I see him walk out of the kitchen behind Lexie. My train of thought flies off the rails because, holy shit, I think I may be the luckiest girl in the entire country, the entire world. No, the whole freakin' universe.

  I'm staring at the world's sexiest firefighter—one that puts every firefighter calendar in existence to shame.

  He's got on a shiny hardhat, black work boots and pants, and red suspenders over his shirtless torso. Such simple attire, but seriously hot as hell. I’d knock over a candle or two to get him to come to my house.

  Yeah, Saturday when I said I love him in his soccer uniform the most? Think this just might be competing for that top spot right about now.

  Lexie follows my stare, letting out a low whistle when she sees him. “Holy guacamole, R.”

  Vaughn catches us drooling and saunters over, coiled muscles rippling with each step. He hooks his thumbs under the suspenders and snaps them against his broad chest when he reaches us. He gives Lexie a polite hello before turning to me, a cocky smirk painted on his face.

  “How'd I do? Pretty damn good, right?”

  “Fireman?” I feign disappointment. “I was all excited for your Cruella Deville costume!”

  He grins. “Totally crossed my mind, but I thought you'd appreciate this look a little more.”

  I let my eyes graze over him, lingering on his biceps, then his pecs, then his abs. Seriously, I can't pick a favorite. They're all straight out of a fitness magazine.

  “Good call. I appreciate this look. A whole lot,” I say with a nod of extreme approval.

  “Knew you would. Also, I think you rock the black and white much better than I could.” He eyes my dress and frowns. “Shit, I think this was a mistake, though.”

  “What do you mean? We look cute!”

  “Exactly, Raynie. You look way too damn sexy, and every dude in this entire place isn't going to be able to keep their eyes off of you. I'm gonna have to spend the entire night fighting them off. Kinda wish I had a fucking firehose so I could blast them all away.”

  I cross my arms. “Uh, me?! What about you? You're the one who's half naked and all oiled up. If anything, I'm going to be the one fighting people off,” I counter.

  Lexie interjects with a loud snort. “As adorable as you guys are, this conversation is getting much too mushy-gushy for my taste. I'm going to fill up my drink,” she says with a shake of her already-empty cup. “Meet you on the dance floor later?”

  We wave as she heads out the door. Almost immediately, Ellie and Liam appear in her spot. Both are decked out in Harry Potter Gryffindor ensembles complete with wooden wands and scarlet and gold ties.

  “Wow. You pull off sexy Hermione really well,” I tell Ellie, admiring her slender figure which is perfectly accentuated by a school-girl miniskirt and half undone white button-up. She pulls out her time-turner and gives it a playful twirl.

  Vaughn reaches a hand out and pushes Liam's hair off his forehead, revealing the world's crappiest lightning bolt scar scribbled above his left eyebrow. No joke, it looks like a five year old drew it on with a dull magic marker in the dark. And that's a generous description.

  “Shouldn't you be Ron, dude?”

  “Nah, mate.” Liam shakes his head. “I'm not a Weasley. I'm Harry fucking Potter.”

  Ellie laughs as she rips off the time-turner and stuffs it in her pocket. “Okay, I guess that makes me Ginny then.” Liam smiles graciously, and she squeezes his bicep. “But only because you've been such a good sport over the years when I've forced you to dress up for all my sorority socials. Also because I can tell you're really into this one.”

  “I do fancy this one, El. It's British.” He grins as he pulls a cheap plastic broom from behind his back and straddles it. “Even dug this Quidditch broom out of the closet to finish the look.”

  Before anyone can let Liam know how many nasty things that broom has probably touched, Diego slams open the front door, sticks his fingers in his mouth, and lets out an ear-piercing whistle.

  “Let's go people! Party has officially begun!”

  We cheer and pile out the front door. I'm shocked when I look down at the yard that was barren just twenty minutes prior. People definitely aren't exaggerating when they say this is the party of the year. It looks like every undergrad at Windhaven showed up for the fun.

  Luckily, it doesn't take long for us to make our way to the dance floor, the students parting to let the Treehouse boys pass through as if they're royalty or something. At Windhaven, I guess they sorta are.

  We get to the center of the floor just as the DJ begins blasting Monster Mash. Immediately, we start swaying to the beat of the boisterous song.

  After an hour of wild, drunken dancing, we head to the refreshment table to fill up our drinks. Vaughn spots someone behind me and doubles over laughing.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mumbles.

  I swivel around to follow his stare, rolling my eyes when I spot the culprit.

  He's wearing an untied, carmine robe which is open and exposing his abs and bright red boxers to the world. He's got devil horns, a giant pitchfork, and five—yes, five—girls decked out in pure white angel costumes surrounding him.

  Yeah, Weston went there.

  “That is actually really fitting for him,” I comment between bouts of laughter.

  He must sense we're staring because he catches my eye and tips his chin in a suave greeting. We wave back, but he doesn't turn away. Instead, he removes his hands from two of the girls' waists and cocks his head, gazing in our direction with a weird, mesmerized expression.

  I'm about to throw him a What's your deal shoulder shrug when I hear Lexie's voice beside me.

  “How's it going, lovebirds?” She grabs a pumpkin cookie and takes a huge bite.

  Before we can answer, Cameron sprints up to us and bends over to catch his breath. He takes a few nervous glances over his shoulder, almost as if he's being chased.

  “You okay, Cam?” Vaughn asks.

  “No, dude. I'm trying to escape Julie. She’s driving me fucking crazy.” He points at Vaughn's drink
. “What is that? Can I have some?”

  “Uh—” He grabs the cup from Vaughn's hands without waiting for an answer and downs the alcohol in one quick gulp. When he finishes, he looks up and notices Lexie. “What are you supposed to be?”

  She stops mid-bite, looking down at her costume in confusion. “It's obvious, isn't it? Try and guess.”

  “Malibu Barbie?”

  “What? No!” She runs a hand over her red one-piece and tiny white board shorts. Then—in true Lexie fashion—she dramatically pulls down her aviators from the top of her head, slipping them over her eyes before giving the whistle around her neck a long, loud blow. She puts her hands on her hips and sighs. “Lifeguard.”

  Suddenly, the devil himself graces us with his presence, forcefully squeezing in between Lexie and me.