The Twins & Me

Halloween pt. 1

Arlo and I sit across from each other at our café, each working on stuff for other classes; Art History homework is the first thing we do since it's the only classwork we get to do together.

My phone buzzes on the table and we both look at my screen at the same time. He snatches it up so fast I almost jump.

"What do you want, Ollie?" He asks, answering it. A pause. "I don't know." Another pause. "I don't think she'd—" he stops short, and listens. After a few seconds he looks at me with an odd expression. Then, biting the inside of his cheek he hangs up the phone.

I wait, fingers poised on my keyboard. I'm in the middle of an English paper.

"Little Wren," he begins innocently, "When was the last time you went trick-or-treating?"

"Absolutely not. No fucking way," I say firmly, shaking my head at the white bundle Oliver holds out for me.

They both look devastated.

"But, Wren," Arlo begins, gesturing to the outfits sprawled out on the bed behind them. "We'll be dressing up, too."

"That's not fair!" I snap, pointing at their costumes. "Those are okay—they cover your asses!"

He sticks out his bottom lip in a pout, while Oliver puts an arm around my shoulders.

"Are you self-conscious, Wren?"

I gape at him. "No, it's not that—"

"Because you are so hot I'd fucking take you right now if I thought you'd let me."

I wriggle out of his grasp, suddenly feeling a heat creep up between my legs. "It's just that I've never dressed like this for Halloween, I'm not that kind of girl."

They give each other a look like the thought never crossed their minds that I wouldn't want to dress up for them.

"Plus, it's freezing outside, and I guarantee there would be a mob of parents after me if they saw me wearing that out in public. It belongs in Playboy."

"Who do you think made it?" Arlo says, taking the outfit from his brother to check the tag—the Playboy bunny logo is big enough for me to see.

But Oliver grabs my shoulders and spins me towards him. "We're not actually going trick-or-treating, you know that, right?"

The look on my face pulls a laugh out of him.

"You think I'd let you walk the streets in that? Fucking hell—we'd be beating off dudes left and right, Wren."

"But—Arlo said—"

He pulls me into a surprisingly tight hug. Oliver has never hugged me before. I give a confused look at Arlo through his arms, and even he looks mildly alarmed.

"Where we're going, everyone's going to be dressed like that," he says, releasing me. I look up into the eyes he shares with Arlo—but where Arlo's are soft and brown, Oliver's are harder, darker, hungrier. But through all that, there's a glint in them I've never seen before. The night at the movie theater changed something between us.

"Fine," I say, somewhat breathlessly. I turn to Arlo. "As long as you can promise I won't get pneumonia."

The kitten outfit is tight, but soft. The stretchy white fabric leaves little to the imagination, and I find myself staring at my own nipples through the crushed velvet that's pulled tight across my breasts. The one-piece fits like a strapless swimsuit and comes with a frilly corset which Arlo volunteered straight away to do up for me. It also came with white fishnets and lace gloves. The main feature, however, has to be the white collar studded with gold points and a ring with a bell.