You're My Boo: A Friends-to-Lovers Halloween Romance

by Frankie Love

  But now I doubt that, because I doubt myself. I might love Noah, but so does every other girl in this town and I’m tired of trying to get him to love me most.

  I run through Jake's backyard and through a gate. I run through the yard of Noah's mom’s house. The place Noah's been staying while he's been back in town for the last month. The lights are off and his mom is probably off at a party of her own. So no one sees me or hears me as I climb the ladder of the tree house. Our tree house.

  When I get to the top I crawl inside, burying my face in the sheet I'm still carrying, the one with circles cut out for eyes. My shoulders shake as I cry for what could have been. If I had just been braver and bolder, sooner. If I just stood up and said what I really wanted all those years ago.

  I've been so scared of losing my best friend, my Noah, that I've kept quiet all this time. And the heartbreaking part is realizing that if he wanted me, he didn't want me enough to make a move. And now I'm alone on Halloween — my favorite night of the year — crying my little heart out in the tree house where we slept as kids.

  When the tears have stopped falling, I wipe them away and lean my back against the wall of the tree house. Looking out the window, I take in the stars and the big night sky, wishing for this night to have gone differently. I'm so lost in my thoughts that I don't even hear him until his face is poking through the door of the tree house, his brown eyes lifted, meeting mine.

  "I've been looking for you for thirty minutes," he says as he takes the last few steps on the ladder and enters the tree house. He has to duck down and I wish again that we could rewind time. Go back to when we both fit together, in this space, but also, everywhere.

  When we still believed in fairytales, make-believe, when our favorite book was Winnie the Pooh. And when The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe didn't seem like a fantasy. It seemed like a possibility. When did we stop dreaming, believing, hoping?

  “Lucy," Noah says. He's clutching something in his hand. And he sits down next to me; our shoulders knocking, knees knocking too. He takes my hand. He holds it in his. It's something we've done a thousand times before, but this time it's different, charged, filled with a sort of longing that feels too big for this small space.

  I wipe my eyes. The tears have once again started fall.

  “I’m so sorry about what happened. But hear me out. I didn't plan a couple's costume with Natalia," he tells me. "She's a liar and honestly, I’m not surprised. When could we ever trust her?”

  But I'm not listening to the apology or the reasons why. "What are you holding?" I ask him. He shows me the rumpled sheet in his hand. "You're a ghost too?" I ask. Eyebrows raised, my heart clenching, hope surging, not wanting to start dreaming of something that isn't happening. Isn't real. Also, clinging to what could be.

  "No," he says. "I wasn't just any ghost."

  I swallow, waiting for more.

  "I was dressed as your boo,” he says.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. The tears fall anyways. And I shove my sheet at his chest. "No, don’t be like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “So perfect.” I shake my head, pushing myself away. It's all too much. The emotion rising within me spilling out. I’m so scared of having what I want. Because when you give your heart to someone, they might break it.

  "Don't," he says. "Lucy, don't run again." He takes hold of my wrists and keeps me in place. We're facing each other now, sitting with our knees between us as a barrier. "I'm not letting you go."

  "I read your checklist," I tell him.

  "Good," he says.

  "Good?” I repeat, looking for a fight because it’s easier to push back — that is something I know how to do. But to give my heart to someone without holding anything back? I know nothing about that sort of love.

  "I was hoping you had. What did you think?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow, cocking his head. He looks so handsome in the moonlight and my head fights with my heart.

  "Stop it, Noah," I say, not having the energy for his charm. "If I was your dream girl, then why have you been dating people like Natalia, like Tabitha, like Sadie, like all of them?" I ask.

  "Because I thought you weren’t ready."

  "Ready for what?" I say.

  “For me.”

  "What do mean, not ready? Why didn't you say something? All this time you’ve wanted me and kept quiet?”

  “And risk losing you? Risk my best friend looking me in the face and saying, ‘No, I don't love you back’? I couldn't do that, Lucy. Not when you're the best thing I've ever had going for me. We both know that."

  "That's not true," I say. "You have the world, you have adventure. You have your Navy career and a whole future, the one you’ve wanted since you were a kid.”

  “Maybe. But what's the point of any of that," he asks, "if I don't have you?"

  "You want me?" I ask.

  "How could I not?" he asks. "You've always been my boo."

  "But Noah," I push back. "You're leaving again soon, and I'm getting a job here when I graduate."

  "And I'm not going anywhere," he tells me.

  "What do you mean?" I ask. "What do you mean, you're not going anywhere? If you make an irreversible decision because of me, I'll never be able to live with myself," I tell him. "Don't let your dream die because of a girl."

  "That's the thing though, Lucy. You're not just a girl. You're the girl. And besides, it’s all decided. I'm not going anywhere."

  I shake my head. It's too much. "No," I say. "I don't believe you."

  "You think I'd lie about this? No, Lucy, I'm staying put, I have to."

  "Why do you have to?" I ask.

  "How else am I going to win you over?" he asks. "How else am I going to make you see me the way I already see you?"

  "Stop it," I say. "That's not how it's going down at all."

  "What do you mean?" he asks. His eyes darken. "You don't think you could love me the way I love you?"

  "Love?” I ask. "You love me because I meet the criteria of a checklist?"

  He nods. "You're the reason there is a checklist."

  "You're such an idiot," I tell him. "I've loved you since we were eight years old. I've been waiting for you to see me."

  "I see you," he says.

  "Even if I'm a ghost?” I ask.

  "You were never a ghost," he pushes, letting go of my wrist. Tucking my hair behind my ear and looking deep into my eyes. "I've seen you all this time. I was just scared."

  "I was scared too," I tell him.

  "You don't have to be scared now," he says, pulling me against his chest.

  And even though it’s supposed to be the scariest night of the year, right now, with Noah’s arms around me, I only feel safe.

  Chapter Seven

  Noah

  Maybe it was always supposed to happen just like this. Lucy and me in the tree house on Halloween night.

  The sky is full of stars. The night hushed and quiet. Costumes and candy. Both of us dressed as ghosts, ready to stop hiding who we truly are, what we truly want. One another.

  "I love you, Lucy," I tell her. Her eyes are bright, her tears wiped away, and I press my lips to hers for our very first kiss.

  She kisses me back tenderly, with devotion, and it fucking makes me want to be the man she needs, not just the man she wants. I wrap my arms around her, making a vow to myself to never let her down. Lucy is not the kind of girl I want to disappoint. I want to make her happy, whole, satisfied.

  “I’ve wanted this for so long,” I tell her between kisses, my lips pressed to her mouth. The kiss intensifies, and I ache for her. Our lips part and her tongue finds mine and, God, my cock is hard. I want her more than I want anything else.

  She runs her fingers through my hair. "I want you, Noah," she says as she wraps her arms around me.

  I hold her close, tight, her breasts pressed to my chest, and though we've hugged a hundred times, one thousand times — more — this is different, electric.

  "I'm such a fool," I say. />
  Her eyes are closed. Her nose brushes against mine. "I'm scared I won't be enough for you. You've had so many…”

  I shake my head. "The past is the past. Maybe the future can just be ours."

  She nods. "I'd like that."

  "Good," I tell her, "because I'm not fucking letting you go."

  She kisses me again, then her eyes meet mine. "Noah, I don't want to lose what we have."

  "We won't," I say. I lace my fingers with hers, a foreign gesture that feels familiar because she is familiar. She is closer than family — my dearest friend, and I love her.

  She kisses me hard, as if she can't get enough. And I like this side of her. She teases my lips with hers. Her hand presses to my chest.

  "Should we go back to the party?" she asks.

  I shake my head. "No, this is the only place I want to be tonight.”

  "I was hoping you'd say that."

  We sit there for a long time, staring into one another's eyes. I want to take this further and I think she does too.

  “I don’t want to move faster than you are ready for,” I tell her, brushing my knuckles across her cheek.

  “I’m ready for this,” she tells me softly. “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

  “I know you’re a virgin,” I say, the tree house so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

  “I know that you’re not.”

  I hate that part of my past, that I’ve slept around carelessly, wanting to feel whole. I’ve always been missing something, and was looking for it in all the wrong places.

  “Will you forgive me my past?” I ask her, wanting to know she can see herself with me.

  “I already have,” she says, then she pulls off her sweater, and she is kneeling before me in her hot pink bra, dotted with devil horns, and I laugh, loud.

  “Fuck, Lucy, you are perfect.”

  “Shush,” she says as I toss my shirt off. Her hands run over my muscles and she bites her bottom lip. “You are the one who is perfection.”

  I grin. “Really, you like me for more than my personality?”

  She laughs softly. “Shut up. You know you’re the hottest guy in this town.”

  “Just this town?” I laugh. “Shit, I need to step up my game.” I decide to take control of the night. And I pull Lucy close to me, my hands on her hips.

  "Fuck, I want you,” I tell her, and her eyes close, her head falls back, her pink hair brushing my fingertips.

  "Tell me more,” she says with a laugh. But it's more than just a laugh. It's a wish. A desire. She needs to know how sexy I think she is. How goddamn gorgeous I find her.

  "I think your body is perfection. I think, when you wear those tight sweaters and those short skirts, you look like a dirty schoolgirl. And I think you know it, how good you look. And your tits? Perfect,” I say, massaging them, reaching behind her body and unhooking her bra, dropping it to the floor.

  My cock aches as I take her in. "God, you're good,” I tell her.

  She licks her lips and her tongue is pink, and fuck, she's beautiful. “Really?" she asks, and I understand her apprehension, her nerves. Because this is all new for her, and I want to make it special. I want to make her feel like the queen she is.

  "They're so fucking perfect," I say as I lower my mouth to her nipples, twirling my tongue over them, and she whimpers softly as I do. I've never seen this side of Lucy, so damn vulnerable. She puts on a brave face, always has. She lost so much when she was young, but she's kept her heart locked up, letting me in, but hardly anyone else.

  I understand this, but I'm ready for her to break down her walls. And I'm ready to let mine down too. To let my guard down. I'm ready to be the man she needs, the partner she wants. I want to be her best friend, but I want to be her lover right now. Right fucking now.

  "I want to see all of you," I tell her, and she nods, understanding. There's a pile of blankets in the corner and we spread them out. She lies down, shimmying off her pants.

  She's in a hot pink thong and I shake my head, running a hand over my jaw. "God, girl, you always in these things?" I ask, reaching underneath the side of her panties, hooking my finger through before pulling it down.

  "Mostly," she says. "I always had this fantasy that one day we would admit how we felt, and you'd take me somewhere spontaneous and rip my clothes off of me, and we'd make love." She covers her face with her hands. "I can't believe I just told you that."

  "All this time you've been wearing sexy panties and I had no fucking clue."

  "Would it have changed anything?" she asks. "If I had told you how I felt?"

  I nod. "It would have changed everything, Lucy. Fucking everything."

  "I'm glad I'm not too late," she says. "I've been waiting for you forever."

  "There's no need to worry about being on time. I'm here for you, girl. I'm here."

  She seems to understand my words, how much they mean to me, how true they are. Because the moment stops being filled with laughter and giggles. There are no more jokes now. It becomes sensual. Now it becomes about her body opening up, and my body giving her what she needs, what she craves, what she's never had before.

  My cock is hard and it's aching against my jeans, but I know my needs are not as important as hers. With her panties gone, her body is naked, head to toe. Her pink hair is spread out around her shoulders, and she's looking up at me with expectation, anticipation, ready for me to give her what she wants.

  "I'm going to take it slow," I tell her.

  "Not too slow," she says, running her hands through my hair as I lean down, pushing her thighs open, taking a first glimpse at her sweet virgin pussy.

  "Fuck, it looks good. You're beautiful," I tell her, dipping my mouth to her cunt and licking her up and down.

  Soft, so, so soft, wanting to arouse her in the most gentle way possible. Her back is already arching, and her knees buckle, as if in fear.

  "It's okay," I tell her, "I got you."

  I draw her closer to my mouth and I begin to run my tongue up and down her sweet slit. She's wet for me, wet and ripe, her innocence dripping against my mouth, and I drink it up. Fuck, she tastes good. Creamy, and wet, and so damn juicy.

  Lucy may be the smartest girl I know, and funny as all get out. Conservative, but not a prude, and open-minded but not exactly adventurous. So I'm not quite sure what kind of lover she's going to be. But her cunt tells me everything I need to know. She is all in.

  She's so fucking wet, it gets me hard as a rock. She likes this, I can tell she does already. When my tongue circles her clit, flicking it ever so slightly, she moans loudly.

  "Oh, Noah," she says. "Oh, Noah, that feels so good."

  "Good," I tell her. "That's the point. I want to make you come, baby. I want to get you off."

  "Baby," she says. "Is that weird, to call me that?"

  I shake my head.

  "No," I say. My finger is on her pussy, entering her nice and slow. I want to finger her nice and good, until she's warmed up the way she needs to be, before I can fuck her with my thick cock. I don't want to hurt her. I want to make her moan in sweet relief. I want to make her do more than come, more than get off. I want to make her gush. I want her come to coat my chest as I finger fuck her.

  I know she wants it too because as I ease her knees open, she lets them fall to the side, her body open and bare, her tits bouncing as I begin to enter her with one finger, then another, giving her what she needs.

  "Do you like to get yourself off?" I ask her. We've talked about everything under the sun as best friends over the years, but I've never asked her if she likes to touch herself.

  But now she nods, telling me yes. "I love to get off," she tells me. "I touch myself at night, thinking of us. Of you."

  "What do you think about?" I ask her as her juicy cunt begins to pour for me, for my hand. And I groan with a thought, what it's going to be like when my cock fills her up. I feel precome at my tip, I'm so fucking hot for her. She has no fucking clue I'm scared that I'm going
to explode here in my jeans like I'm in middle school.

  "I think about you, naked in my bed. I imagine it’s hot in the summer, the windows open, the breeze rushing through the window, the curtains floating open. You’d climb in my window, finding me naked in my bed, alone."

  "And what would I do to you, Lucy?"

  "You'd make me come so hard," she whispers.

  "Like this?" I ask her.

  "Just like this," she moans. "Just like this." An orgasm begins to ride through her. I feel it as the walls of her pussy tense against my fingers. She's panting, out of breath. And she wraps her arms around me, clinging to me. This perfect person, the love of my life.

  "Fuck," she says, my fingers still inside her. "Oh God," she says, "I can't, I can't."

  "You can," I tell her, "I know you can. You are." I spread her knees apart once more and I finger her harder, adding a third, and then fuck, my girl starts to gush the way I knew she's been building up for her whole damn life. Hard.

  I lean down, kissing her mound, wanting to drink it up, all of her sweet juice.

  "Oh God," she cries, her back arching. She presses her hands to my chest, her palms against my skin, and I look at her as she gets off and she looks so fucking gorgeous. So damn beautiful.

  "You like that?" I say as she finishes, my hand stilling against her cunt. She nods.

  "I loved it." She moans, "Oh my God."

  She reaches for me, drawing me to her. And she crawls on top of me, wrapping her body around me, kissing me, hard. Tasting herself on my lips. Her wet cunt is against my belly, and I know she feels my thick cock beneath her. Her eyes meet mine. I know what she wants.

  "I can't wait to fuck you, boo," I tell her. She smiles down at me.

  "Then what in the world are we waiting for?"

  Chapter Eight

  Lucy

  I straddle him completely naked, but I don't feel nervous for him to see me.

  After all, he's just touched me, opened me up, felt me in a way no one on earth ever has. I lick my lips and unbutton his jeans, pulling down the zipper. As I move off of him, he tugs them down, pushing them aside. His boxers too. And he takes hold of his cock. It's big and thick and hard.