After a career-ending fight, ex-professional-hockey-player-turned-Zamboni-driver Chase Cassidy has never looked back at the sport. He's perfectly content cleaning the ice between periods and chatting with fellow staff members, and running a pub outs...
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Spencer
Of all the times to get sick.
Pouting like a baby, I stare at my costume that's hanging over the edge of the bed. A crown lies atop it, as do prosthetic elf ears and jewellery. There's a black wig on the dresser, laid flat so it doesn't tangle.
I swear the costume is taunting me. The first time I get to do a couple's costume, and I can't go to the party. Groaning, I flop against my pillows and throw an arm over my face, cursing. All my hard work means nothing. So does the delivery I made to Chase's house a couple of days ago.
We had the perfect couple's costume. Now it's all ruined. Plus, I won't be able to see Chase dressed as Aragorn, with the wig, facial hair, and everything else. He would've looked so hot.
I release another groan.
"Gonna throw up again?"
Peeking out from behind my arm, I see Lennon standing in the doorway. He's dressed in a Joker costume, with green hair, a purple suit, and ghastly makeup. Although there isn't a set theme for tonight's Halloween party, the team loves to correlate their costumes. Most of the guys are dressing up as villains from the DC universe.
My arms flop to my sides, and I can feel the exhaustion reverberating through my body. "No. Did you bring me my food?"
Earlier, he texted me to let me know he was stopping by to drop of some necessities: bottles of Gatorade, Vick's vapour rub, a heating pad, and my favourite takeout food.
He holds up the bag and saunters to the foot of the bed. From it, he withdraws a paper bag. "Everything is accounted for. Pad Thai and lettuce wraps, both with tofu and medium-spice." Setting the bag down, Lennon crosses his arms and sends me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, Spence. I know how much you wanted to come to the party."
His expression tells me he has more to say, but I'm too tired to have a deep conversation with him. All I want to do is drape the heating pad over my stomach, take some more medication, and devour the food. Even if I'll throw it up right after. I may as well enjoy the food before my stomach rejects it.
A big yawn encapsulates me and a wave of tiredness cascades through my body. On second thought, maybe I'll take a nap before trying to eat.
"Yeah," I sniffle. "It sucks, but there's always next year."
Lennon's lips pull to one side. "Always next year," he echoes.
"What's with the grin?" I ask.
"Nothing," he shrugs. "Your optimism amuses me, Spence. What happens if a freak accident steals your life away before next Halloween?"
I snort. "That's a little dark for you, Lennon."
He wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, even on Halloween, I can't resort to saying shit like that. It doesn't feel right." He gives my foot a squeeze. "Next year'll be better. I'll bring you back some candy, okay?"
