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He looks and keeps looking.
My stomach tightens.
He’s too far away for me to see the exact color of his eyes, but I can feel them.
I slowly finish chewing.
Mariah turns around with all the subtlety of a fucking lighthouse.
“Oh.”
“Stop.”
“Oh, he’s hot.”
“Mariah.” I warn.
“Really hot.”
“He can see you.” I whisper-shout.
“Good.”
The man’s mouth moves slightly. Not quite a smile though. Then the older guy says something and his attention shifts away.
I look back at my plate as Ali leans closer. “You know him?”
“No.”
“He looked like he knew you.”
“Well, unless he’s my gynecologist, he doesn’t.”
Mariah snorts cider through her nose. “Jesus Christ!”
I hand her a napkin. “That’s what you get.”
She wipes her face while glaring at me.
When I look toward the bonfire again, the man’s gone.
The next couple of hours disappear somewhere between finishing our food, getting another round of drinks, and letting Mariah drag us back onto the dance floor every time a song she likes comes on. By ten thirty, I’m pleasantly buzzed with way too many pictures clogging my camera roll, we finally make our way over to register for the Hunt.
Mine is surprisingly simple, a cream-colored half mask decorated with tiny dried flowers around one eye. It’s actually kind of cute. Which feels strangely tame for an event where I’m about to let masked strangers chase me through a cornfield.
Mariah picks one with black feathers and Ali chooses red velvet. Then we spend fifteen more minutes taking pictures in them because apparently tonight is seventy percent alcohol and thirty percent photographic evidence.
At eleven twenty, the band stops. An announcer climbs onto the stage and the crowd cheers. “REAPERS!”
The response is deafening.
He laughs into the microphone. “Who’s ready for midnight?”
The crowd erupts into screams, and Mariah immediately joins in. I’m right behind her, mostly because when hundreds of people start screaming at once, your body decides that’s just what we’re doing now. That shit is contagious.
“Registration closes in ten minutes! If you’re running tonight, get your asses over to the south field!”
Another roar.
