Anything for Us

Halloween. Fuck, I hate this day.

It could be because of the excessive amount of candy that everyone buys (especially Dakota and Yasmin) and tries to force the people around them to eat (again, Dakota and Yasmin). The nasty, sugar overdose comedown that follows Halloween is never pretty.

It could also be because my dad always goes overboard when decorating the house – and I mean overboard as in, turning the front yard into a graveyard – and he seems to have recruited Scott into his schemes too. No-one needs to see a 35 year old man dressed up as the devil, prancing around the front yard. It’s a good thing I warn our neighbours, otherwise we would have serious problems.

And it could also be because little kids get so freaking excited that it actually becomes fun to make them cry. I don’t like seeing kids cry – but the way that some of them get all obnoxious, it’s worth scaring them. There’s nothing wrong with pretending to be a hooded statue with a scythe when the walk up to the house, and then jumping out at the them when they walk back down, is there?

But the reason why I hate Halloween the most? The parties. Or should I say, the costume parties. And why? Dakota, who else? Whether it’s a costume party or not, Dakota will wear something slutty, taunting me all night while groping someone else, dancing with someone else, making out with someone else or fucking someone else. Every single fucking year he does this, and seeing as we go to at least three different Halloween parties on the days leading up to (and including) Halloween, I get tortured relentlessly.

This year is no different. Another nameless party – thankfully not a costume one – but Zach’s picked me, Dakota and Yasmin up in his car, and is staying our designated driver so we can all get a safe ride home. I’m wearing a simple plain black t-shirt (a little on the tighter side to show off my hard-earned torso) with a pair of comfy jeans and my old leather jacket. Zack is dressed similarly (but with a white t-shirt) and Yasmin is wearing a shimmery pale blue dress. But Dakota? He just had to wear the tightest pair of black skinny jeans that he owns and the tightest t-shirt with a v-neck cutting right down to under his collarbone. He’s doing it on purpose. I know he is.

What really caps off the situation is mine and Dakota pre-party tradition. The second we walk into a party, we share a good luck kiss. Just a simple peck. For Dakota, it means my permission to have fun. For me, it shows everyone at the party that, at the end of the day, Dakota is mine. Fucked up? Yes. But if I can even show the losers at each party that they will never truly have Dakota, then I’ll do it. Plus it means I get to kiss him too.

It’s not just at parties we kiss. We do kiss occasionally when one of us is really upset, or if one of us has done something amazing that deserves a celebration, but only on the odd occasion has it gone past gentle pecks to a full-blown make-out, and it's been even rarer after that that we've got to handjobs and blowjobs. And by rare, I mean only a few times and all of them involved me being very drunk. I’m not stupid – I know my limits. I have to remember my limits because if I don't I know I’ll be tempted to have sex with Dakota, and we all know that’s not going to happen unless some changes are made.

So, as usual, the moment that Zach and Yasmin step into the party and Dakota and I join them, Dakota jumped up to wrap his legs around my waist and his arms around my neck (he has some serious gymnastic skills, this is the reason he’s on the cheerleading team), and grinned at me.

“Pre-party kiss?” he asked hopefully.

“Pre-party kiss,” I nodded.

I made sure we were in view of the door to the living area, where most of the partygoers were, and cupped Dakota’s ass with my hands (totally for support, not for groping), before lightly pressing my lips to his. Dakota sighed against my mouth, I’m assuming out of happiness, and kissed me a little harder, before pulling away. If only he knew how much I wanted to make it more than that.

“Thanks Angel,” he said cheerfully.

I just shrugged, letting him to the floor. Zach was waiting for me just inside the doorway and shook his head in amusement.

“The more you do that, the worse it’ll get,” Zach pointed out.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said innocently, watching Dakota skip over to Yasmin and some of the other cheerleaders.

A couple of hours passed, and for once the party wasn’t so bad. No cheesy music, not too many tacky decorations, and plenty of alcohol. I wasn’t too drunk, just buzzed enough to relax and not worry about Dakota, and I was chatting with Zach and some of the other basketball team, when I felt someone tug at the hem of my t-shirt. Turning my head, I saw Dakota, swaying lightly. Huh. He’s trashed already. Typical. Looks like I’ll be helping him into bed and crashing on his couch tonight in case he needs me. Dakota can’t handle being sick from alcohol when there’s anyone but me there (I know, another bad habit), so I normally sleep on the sofa in his bedroom which pulls out into a bed. At least Hendrix won’t have to deal with him like this.

“Yeah, Kota?”

I vaguely heard one of the team mocking the nickname. I’ll punch him later.

“Comeplayspinthebottle,” Dakota slurred.

“You’re speaking ‘drunk’ again,” I sighed, looking at him properly.

Dakota cleared his throat, looking as if he was really concentrating.

“Come…play…spin the bottle,” he said slowly.

I gritted my teeth together, before shaking my head. Dakota pouted.

“You know I don’t like that game,” I said firmly.

“But…”

“No. And don’t think that grabbing my dick will help persuade me,” I warned, interrupting as his hand edged towards me.

Dakota stuck his tongue out at me before stumbling back to the circle that was starting to form. I watched him for a few seconds, before shaking my head.

“I need another drink,” I grunted, earning laughter.

“I’ll join you,” Zach said softly.

The two of us headed into the kitchen, where the music wasn’t so loud. I leant against the counter as Zach uncapped a beer for me and a diet coke for himself.

“Wanna tell me what that was just now?” Zach asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“I don’t play spin the bottle with Dakota. I can’t,” I said simply, taking a gulp of my beer.

“Dude, I think we all know that you two kiss – what’s the difference?” Zach frowned.

I shook my head, smiling sadly.

“It’s not that I might have to kiss Dakota. That’s not a problem. It’s that I can’t watch him kiss other people. Yes, I know it happens. Yes, I’ve seen it from across a room – but upclose? While he’s sitting less than a metre away from me? No. I won’t put myself through that,” I said.

Zach stared at me for a couple of seconds, before grimacing.

“Fuck, man, I don’t know how you do it,” he sighed.

I just raised an eyebrow, making him laugh shortly.

“All this unrequited love shit? I wouldn’t be able to handle that. I don’t know how it doesn’t drive you crazy. You’re torturing yourself and you’re worth so much more than that. You deserve so much more than that. You should love someone who loves you back,” Zach said seriously.

I swallowed heavily. You should love someone who loves you back. That would involve moving on from Dakota - I can't do that. I hate it when Zach has his once-a-year epiphany and actually says something that makes sense.

“Such wise words for a guy who sometimes forgets his left from his right,” I mocked.

“You can change the subject all you want, Angel. You know I’m right,” Zach shrugged.

I rolled my eyes. I do know he’s right, but the second I admit that, I’ll be lost. What the fuck am I meant to do if I don’t live life as I am?

“I don’t want to talk about it, Z,” I said softly.

“Fine. But please don’t torture yourself like this. Please,” Zach said.

I just nodded, and the two of us rejoined the party. I turned my back on the spin the bottle game, consuming myself with the basketball team conversations. I won’t listen to Zach’s words. Without Dakota, what else do I have worth living for?