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“Oh, I’m sure she’ll try,” I replied, smirking down at Dakota.
Dakota rolled her eyes, but I could see her mouth twitching, trying not to smile. “I think I don’t really like you anymore.”
“Liar,” I shot back.
As we moved through another dark hallway, the atmosphere shifted slightly. The decorations grew more elaborate, and the rooms darker, the air thick with store-bought fog. It was still cheesy, but I could tell Dakota’s nerves were starting to get the better of her. Her fingers tightened on my arm, and her steps slowed just a little.
“You okay?” I asked, my voice softening.
She glanced up at me, and for a second, I saw something vulnerable in her eyes—though she tried hard to cover it up with her usual sass. “Peachy. I just don’t like... jump scares.”
I chuckled, pulling her a little closer. “You’re safe with me, remember?”
She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, I remember. I just don’t know if that means I should trust you or not.”
“Smart girl,” I said, keeping my voice low as we rounded the next corner. “But for what it’s worth, I’ve got your back. Even in haunted houses run by PTA moms.”
Her laughter broke the tension, and as we moved deeper into the haunted schoolhouse, I made it my mission to distract her. Whether that meant making jokes about the ridiculous decorations, teasing her about her various “allergies,” orpretending to be grumpy every time she jumped at a fake skeleton, it worked.
By the time we reached the final room, she was clinging to me but laughing just as much as she was gasping, and the flush on her cheeks had less to do with fear and more to do with how much fun we were having.
The air in this room was thickest with fog, and the dim lights flickered along the faux cracks in the walls. The music was louder now, too, and the sound echoed off the concrete floors.
It was clearly the event’s grand finale, but all I could focus on was the way Dakota’s fingers had relaxed around my arm as she laughed at something I’d said about the low-budget decorations.
“I think that skeleton over there owes me five bucks,” I joked, nodding toward a plastic skeleton propped in the corner, its jaw hanging open in a frozen scream. “I loaned it to him for the poker game with the Wine Club ladies last night.”
Dakota snorted. “Ah, so you’ve heard about the Book Club’s real name, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m a regular Charlotte Oakian with all I know now.”
She giggled, but then it kind of trailed off and died.
I cleared my throat, steering us away from that weird turn in the conversation. “I’m just saying, if they’re going for scary, they might wanna invest in a little more than spirit store leftovers.”
Before she could respond, the fog thickened, rolling across the floor in heavy waves, making it harder to see more than a few feet ahead. The eerie glow of red lights bounced off the haze, and I noticed the path in front of us splitting into two corridors.
Phoebe and Austin were already well ahead, their voices echoing somewhere in the distance as they disappeared around a corner. I glanced down at Dakota, expecting to see her usual playful smirk, but instead, I caught the brief flash of uncertainty in her eyes as she glanced between the two paths.
“Great,” she muttered, biting her lip. “Which way?”
I grinned, leaning down just enough to whisper in her ear. “Use your gut. One way leads to a safe exit, and one drops us into a pit of PTA vampires.”
Dakota rolled her eyes, but I could feel her laughter bubbling beneath the surface. “Let’s go left. I think that’s where Austin and Phoebe went.”
“Left it is.”
We started down the path, the fog growing denser with each step. But as we rounded a corner, the lights flickered again, casting strange shadows across the walls. Then, without warning, a figure in a tattered cloak jumped out of the mist, letting out a high-pitched screech that echoed off the walls.
Dakota let out a startled yelp, jumping back instinctively—right into a separate corridor.
I laughed, but the sound barely lasted a second before the figure blocked my path before disappearing into the fog.
“Dakota?” I called out, taking a step forward, my voice half-amused, half-curious. “You good?”
There was no answer—just the sound of her footsteps retreating down the other hallway, muffled by the fog.
I waited for a beat, expecting her to circle back around or shout something sarcastic in return. But when no reply came, I frowned, realizing she’d gone further than I thought.
