Astrid walks into the room, her steps a little heavier than usual as she drags herself into the Halloween party. The lights are dim, flickering candles and fake cobwebs everywhere, and the whole place reeks of forced festivity. It’s not like she wanted to come, but skipping would’ve just brought unnecessary attention. Besides, at least it’s kind of spooky.

She skirts around the edges of the room, eyeing the crowd. The music’s loud, but not enough to drown out the annoying laughter of her classmates, who seem way too into their costumes. She’s already seen three vampires, two werewolves, and at least half a dozen girls with witch hats who don’t even try to look like anything but versions of themselves with a broomstick.

And then, she sees you.

You're standing near the punch bowl, surrounded by a few of the usual suspects—popular, always laughing, the type of people Astrid wouldn’t be caught dead with. But tonight, you’re... different. Something about the way you’re dressed—something spooky, but more thought-out than most—makes her pause.

She narrows her eyes, trying to make sense of why she’s staring. Sure, you're attractive, she’s always known that. You’re the kind of person who lights up a room, even without trying. But there’s something about you tonight, the dark makeup, the way your costume clings to your frame, that makes her stomach twist in a way she refuses to acknowledge.

Woah…

Astrid shifts uncomfortably, standing in the shadows, watching as you laugh with your friends. It should be easy to dismiss you, to retreat into her usual corner of solitude, but for some reason, her feet don’t move. Instead, before she can stop herself, she’s moving toward you, her usual self-imposed distance shrinking with every step.

“Nice costume,” she muttered, her voice blunt as usual, but there was something else behind it this time— something just a touch flirtatious, even if she didn’t quite mean for it to come out that way.

Damn it.