Unlikely Allies

I giggled looking at it. "Seriously?" I said as my giggles turned to laughter.

She smiled at me. "Actually, I bought you this one too, figuring you could pick," she said, holding up a plum-colored mask decked out in gems and feathers.

"Okay, but you better not leave me stranded while you and Chris make out in some dark corner."

"Chris is so old news. I'm going with Michael."

"Michael?" I asked, wracking my head for a recent mention of him. "Regardless, you better not leave me high and dry."

“I won't leave your side," she said, smiling at me mischievously. "Scouts honor," she added, seeing my skepticism.

"You weren't ever a scout," I pointed out, heading off to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

Carol's laughter followed me.

Two hours later I was standing alone against a wall watching the party unfold in front of me with Carol nowhere to be found. I was ready to wring her neck for leaving me in a crowd where I knew no one. Though I was seriously pissed at her, I couldn't help openly gawking at the people around me. To say that college students got into their costume parties would have been a gross understatement. Scantily dressed girls walked around in costumes, ranging from vampires to angels. The majority of the male population at the party had gone with the werewolf theme. I had lost count after like the twelfth one walked by my safe place. I felt out of place standing there by myself, clutching a solo cup of punch that some stranger in a werewolf mask had assured me would make me happy. By his staggering around, I was pretty convinced his idea of happy and mine were entirely different.

"I'm going to kill, Car," I mumbled to myself, setting down my full cup.

"Talking to yourself is never a good sign," a voice said from beside me.

Startled, I turned and found myself facing yet another werewolf.

"Seriously, did you guys get a group rate on costumes or something?" I said, snippily, knowing I sounded like a bitch, but I couldn't find the will to care. I was over the whole party scene.

"Nah, it was a joke. We thought it would be fu

"Oh, I get it. We used to do stuff like that when we were in second grade," I said sweetly.

"Ouch, that's harsh, but I guess when you put it that way, it does seem pretty childish," he said, pulling off his mask and tossing it to the side.

Static from the mask made every hair stand up straight across his head.

"Much better," I said, stifling a giggle.

"Damn, I make static look good," he said, glancing in the mirror on the wall behind me.

"Wow, I'm surprised you made it through the door with that ego of yours," I said.

"You don't like me much, do you?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the end table in front of me.

"I don't know you well enough to determine if I like you or not."

"We could change that," he said, dropping his voice down a notch.

"Seriously, that's the pick-up line you decide to go with?" I asked, shaking my head as I started to walk away.

"Hey, wait. I know I sounded like an ass there. It's just unsettling to talk to you."

"Really?" I said, raising my eyebrows behind my mask.

"Yeah, Zorro was a hero to me when I was growing up, and I just never expected him to be so shapely."

I couldn't help laughing as I pulled off the cheap mask and tossed it to the side. "There, is that better?" I asked.

"Oh, damn, you're a girl?" he teased. "Can I get you a beer?"

"I was actually on my way out," I said, all my animosity gone.

"Just one? As friends," he pleaded.

"Friends?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Yeah, you definitely have the 'no vacancy' sign on. I figured you have a boyfriend that is either stupid enough to leave you alone at a party or doesn't go to school here, right?"

"No, he doesn't," I said, not bothering to correct him. "Okay, I'll have a beer, but can we drink it on the porch before my ears start bleeding?"

"Sure, I'll grab a couple while you head outside."

"Okay," I said, making my way through the sea of bodies toward the door. Multiple hands grabbed at me on my way out, but I ducked away from each of them.

I was grateful to find the porch empty when I finally made my way out. I breathed in the cool crisp air, glad to be away from the smoky haze that had filled the building. I sat on the rustic swing at the far end of the porch, enjoying the relative silence. I could still hear the music throbbing beyond the walls beside me, but the muted sounds were a relief. While I waited for the "werewolf" to join me, I contemplated Carol's words from earlier. Maybe it was time for me to move on. Maybe meeting someone was my sign.

"I was worried you'd ditch me," werewolf boy said, exiting the building with two bottles of beer in each hand.

"I contemplated it, but I thought I remember reading somewhere that werewolves are super fast," I teased.

"Good call. I would've definitely sniffed you out," he said, setting the unopened bottles on the ground before sitting beside me. "By the way, I'm Brad," he said, holding out his hand.

"Kimberly," I said, taking his hand in mine. I was slightly disappointed that I felt nothing at his touch. His hands were smooth and cool from carrying the beers, and all I could think about was Mason's warm calloused hands that felt so right wrapped around mine.

"Freshman?" Brad asked.

"Yeah, is it that obvious," you?"

He laughed shrugging "Junior. So what do you think of UCLA?"

"I like it, but I could do without my Statistics class," I said, grimacing.

"Who do you have?"

"Johnson," I said, making a face.

"Yeah, I heard he's a prick. I took stats last year, but I had Wilson who has mad-teaching skills. I can help you out if you want."

"That'd be great. I'm definitely going to need a little tutoring if I hope to pass the class."

"It's no problem. You pick the day and time and I'll be there. What's your major?"

"Um, I'm doing dual," I said, taking a deep swig of beer. "Art and education."

"Sweet, so you want to be an art teacher?"

"Yeah, my dad runs a foster camp during the summer and I got to teach the art class before…" I said, letting my voice trail off.

"Before?" he asked, questioningly.

"Before I got hurt," I admitted.

"How did you get hurt?" he asked, sounding intrigued.

"It's kind of a long story," I said, wishing I had kept silent, but before I knew it I was spilling out all the sordid details of my disastrous summer. He listened attentively while I talked and I was embarrassed when I finally finished. My diarrhea of the mouth had been getting me in trouble for years. I couldn't believe I was sitting with someone I hardly knew letting it all hang out.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to unload all of that on you," I said, downing the rest of my second beer.

"Sounds intense," he said. "You're like a hero."

"No, I'm not," I scoffed. "I may have saved us, but I didn't save his leg."

"Because you're a medical doctor and you botched his treatment?" Brad said, finishing off the last of his beer.

"No, but I should have gone for help sooner."