Eye Candy

I get out of my car, lock it, and walk inside to find Marlie. She’s standing with Kenai, both of them staring up the stairs, no doubt discussing decorations. “Good morning,” I say when I stop beside them.

Marlie looks at me and smiles. “Heya, Jade. How are you?”

“Good. Ready to get this place looking spooky. What’s the plan?”

“Kenai and Oliver have gotten the decorations all ready, it’s just a matter of putting them up. We’re going to have cobwebs on the stairs and balconies, spooky creatures hanging from the ceilings, maybe even a smoke machine. What do you think?”

I beam. “Sounds fun. Where can I start?”

“Upstairs in the big closet are some decorations, you can grab them and start putting them anywhere you think they might look good.”

I nod. “I’m on it.”

With that, I disappear up the stairs, excited to get started.

*

I love Halloween; it’s my favorite holiday of the year. I love the decorations, the spooky stories, the trick or treating and the fun that comes along with it. I like carving pumpkins, making different candies, and I especially love when all the kids come to my door. As spooky as it is, I feel like it brings people together, allows people to interact and have some fun.

I find the storage closet, step inside, and flick on the light. It’s full of decorations, plates, cups, tablecloths, and everything you could possibly imagine for Halloween. I walk in a little further, reaching down for a box of fake cobwebs, when the door behind me slams closed. Spinning around, I reach over for the door handle, only to find it locked. Furrowing my brows, I rattle the doorknob again. Still locked. Great. I’m stuck in here.

I bang my fists on the door a few times, calling out, but nobody comes to my rescue. They must all be downstairs. Huffing, I turn and stare at the boxes. Just great. I’m in here, but I have no way of getting out or getting help. I left my phone in my purse, in the office. I bang on the door again, a few times, yelling louder and louder. A few minutes pass by, and I start getting a little more worried. Someone will come up here eventually, but it’s hot, and stuffy, and I want to get some work done, not be stuck in a damned closet.

I sit for a few minutes, wondering how the hell I’m going to escape this. Shrugging, I start sorting through the decorations. After a while, it’s getting a little harder to breathe, so I turn around and bang on the door again, calling out. Still no one. Feeling a little stressed out, I try to distract myself with the decorations again but I really don’t like the feeling I’m getting. My chest is tight and I’m starting to get a little panicky. I don’t think there is a human alive who likes being in a place where they can’t get out, even if it is only a closet.

I pound my fists on the door again, calling out a little louder, and a little more frantically. My voice is soft at the best of times, so it’s hardly loud. I still try, though. I’m just about to give up again when the door swings open. Not expecting it, I stumble backward. A scream escapes my throat and my legs flail around as I hit a box, falling right into it, bottom first, and crushing all the decorations. Two big hands reach down, curling around my arms and pulling me up. I come face to face with Oliver. He’s standing, holding on to me still, staring at me with those intense hazel eyes.

He’s classically good looking, with light brown hair that’s messy and falls over his forehead like it’s been made to do that. His skin is a soft brown, and his eyes a deep hazel. He’s got very masculine features to match his very large, very muscled body. A few tattoos snake up one arm and disappear underneath his dark shirts. The ones he always wears. He’s gorgeous, in a bad-boy yet breathtakingly beautiful kind of way. His tattoos and dark features give him an edge, yet there is also a softness about him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking up at him. “I locked myself in here. I wasn’t sure if anyone would hear me calling out.”

“I was coming to get more decorations when I heard you yelling. You hurt?” His voice is rich, thick, and husky. It matches him perfectly.

“Ah, no, I’m not hurt. A little embarrassed, but not hurt.”

He studies me. “You should be more careful. If nobody was up here, you might have been in here a while.”

I flush and nod, stepping back. He releases me, dropping his hands to his sides.

“I’m Jade,” I say, meeting his eyes for a second before looking away, cheeks still burning.

He smells incredible.

“I know,” he says, his voice low.

“And you’re Oliver.”

His eyes flash when I meet them again. “Yeah.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I offer, extending my hand, feeling lame the second it comes out of my mouth.

He nods, reaching out and curling his fingers around mine, shaking my hand gently. It feels nice, really nice. I try to keep the blush from creeping up my cheeks. I drop his hand and he holds my gaze for a moment before looking back toward the decorations. “Need a hand? I’m looking for decorations too, so we might as well do it together.”

My heart races. The chance to work with him, maybe make some conversation? Yes please.

“That would be great, thank you. I’ll probably need help putting some of these up. I’m not very tall.”

His eyes drop down my body, and then he shakes his head, “No, you’re not.”

I don’t know if he said that in a good or bad way, but the way he dragged his eyes up my body, I don’t really care. It makes me feel alive, nervous, happy, and anxious, all at the same time. My skin prickles, and I swallow, running my fingers through my mousy brown hair, and straighten. Do I look okay? I wonder what he thinks of me. I’ve always found myself to be . . . too small. My petite frame barely reaches his shoulders, and my hair is long, stick straight, and I would say a fairly plain shade of brown. My eyes, blue like the sky, are my best feature without a doubt.

I was never blessed with curves, or big breasts, or a great round ass, so I often wonder if I have the assets men find attractive.

“Grab a box,” Oliver says, shaking me out of my thoughts.

I reach down, grabbing a box and lifting it into my arms, which barely go around it. I shuffle forward, and Oliver watches me, brows raised. Then, with somewhat of a sigh, he grabs the box from my arms and carries it into the hall effortlessly before reaching for another one. My cheeks flame again. Great, he probably thinks I’m useless. I can’t even hold a box. He drags the boxes over to the balcony and pulls out the fake cobwebs, staring at them with disgust.

“This isn’t goin’ to be easy.”

I stare at the tangled mess. “No, but I guess the good thing about it is that it’s supposed to look messy, so we can get away with it.”

He nods and pulls the big white clumps out. “You take one end, we’ll stretch it out as much as we can and just attach it bit by bit to the railings.”

“Okay,” I say in a soft voice, taking one end of the odd-feeling cobwebs and stretching them out. Oliver finds some string and starts tying it to the railings, and we move along slowly, attaching it as best we can.