Still the One (Book 2 in the Four of Us Trilogy)

31 | Trick or Treat

Rachel

"Miles, can you go get the keg and the liquor, please? I have to finish cooking!" I called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, hopping into the kitchen on one foot while pulling his Nikes on. "I'm already on my way out." He kissed me swiftly on the side of my head.

"Thanks, babe," I said, flashing a grin over my shoulder.

"No problem, be back soon!" he answered as he disappeared out the door.

I finally got all the food cooked, and I was sitting down to relax for a minute when I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

It was a text from an unknown number.

Bitch, you better watch your back.

I rolled my eyes. How did Iris get my phone number? It had to be her, there was no one else it could be. Before I could stop myself, I texted back.

Iris, lose my number and don't text me again.

Okay. Next time I'll just text Miles.

I growled under my breath.

Get a fucking clue, Iris. Miles doesn't want anything to do with you, but he's too nice to say it. I, on the other hand, could give a shit's care less about your feelings. I got the lead in the play (I know you wanted it; I heard you tell Yolanda), I have Miles, and you'll never have him. So give it up. It's pathetic, and you're doing nothing but making a fool of yourself.

I pressed send and waited.

She never answered.

***

I was putting on my costume when Miles came into the bedroom.

"Well, hello there," he murmured, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. "You look so hot," he said, kissing my neck.

I cocked my head to the side and smiled. "I do look pretty good, don't I?"

I was wearing an extremely short, extremely tight strapless black dress that accentuated all my curves – some of which had only appeared after gaining the freshman 15 – in all the right places, black cat ears, and a long black tail. I had also drawn whiskers on my cheeks with black eyeliner.

"Yeah... and I actually have something you might want to wear with that tonight," he said, letting go of my waist and pulling a box from under his side of the bed – a gold shoebox.

"Oh my gosh," I murmured. "Is that what I think it is?"

He grinned and handed me the box. "See for yourself," he said.

I lay the box on the bed and sure enough, the top read Christian Louboutin.

"Miles!" I squealed, taking the top off the box and pulling out a pair of black patent leather pumps with 5-inch stiletto heels, with the signature red soles. They were the exact ones I had pointed out at Neiman Marcus when we went to Orlando last Christmas. Not to mention, these were $700 shoes.

"Do you like them?" he asked, his eyes gleaming.

I was already putting them on; they fit perfectly. "Like them? I love them! I can't believe you remembered! When did you get them?"

"I ordered them from Neiman Marcus' website. They were supposed to be for Christmas, but that costume..." He let out a low whistle. "You needed to wear them tonight."