“Come on, Emma!” Kate cried, banging on my bedroom door for the fifth or sixth time. “You can’t hide in there forever. I’m sure you look fine. People are going to be here soon.”

I glanced at the clock. She was right. It was almost go time. I slid into my green, marabou trimmed boudoir slippers and straightened my sheer tights. I had a bad feeling that I looked more than a little bit like a stripper.

“Just a second,” I yelled. “I’m almost ready.”

I frowned at my reflection in the mirror, poked at my fake eyelashes, and adjusted the mesh and wire wings strapped to my back. The wings were already annoying me, but not as much as the length of my dress.

My Tinkerbell costume was much sexier and more revealing than I’d thought it would be when I bought it online. My boobs were threatening to spill out of the bright green satin bustier, and the nearly transparent matching skirt just barely made it halfway down my thighs. This is what I got for trusting the photographs on eBay. It would just have to do. The only other option at this point was cutting a couple of eye holes in a sheet and going to our Halloween party as a ghost.

“Wow,” Kate stammered when I opened the door a second later. “You look amazing!”

I smiled nervously. “It’s not too slutty?”

Kate shook her head. “It’s the exactly right amount of slutty. The fact that it’s your real hair up there in that silly bun is what makes it.”

Kate was blonde for Halloween too, but her flowing, gold Rapunzel hair was a wig. Our Halloween party was Disney themed and our apartment looked a bit like a five-year old’s birthday party (but with way more booze). I grabbed myself a cup of the pink punch and tried to work myself up for being social.

My current pair of wings notwithstanding, I was not a natural social butterfly like Kate. If it wasn’t for her, I probably wouldn’t have any friends. Moving in with Kate at the beginning of my sophomore year was the best decision I could have made for my social life, even if it meant living inside a kegger one night a week. This Halloween party promised to be no exception.

Costumed people began to trickle into our apartment, armed with beer, smiles, and excitement. I struggled to fit in. After the disaster that was my freshman year at a school back east, coming to the University of Texas had been a case of serious culture shock. They don’t call it a party school for nothing, and I’m a natural introvert and a bit of a nerd. Before coming here, I’d never had a drop to drink.

Unluckily for my liver, I was also a quick study. I’d determined that I hated most beer, most wine, and anything with a harsh liquor taste, but I loved anything sweet and fruity. Thankfully, Austin had a number of local breweries that specialized in ciders, shandys, and even sour beers.

“Are fairies supposed to be drinking, Tinkerbell?” someone asked me when I went to grab another apple cider from the fridge. I spun around and straightened, surprised.

Kate’s brother Ward was leaning against the door. I hadn’t realized that he’d followed me. I straightened abruptly, hoping my ass hadn’t been totally exposed by my tiny skirt when I bent over.

My breathing sped up and I felt myself biting down on my bottom lip nervously. The hand not clutching a bottle sent fingertips to my hemline and found that my skirt had ridden up a bit. Yeah, he’d definitely just seen my ass. His cocked eyebrow and even cockier smile told me that he had appreciated it, too. I felt a hot flush burn my cheeks.

It didn’t help that he seemed to know exactly what he did to me every time he came around, although this was only the third time I’d met him since Kate and I moved in together in August. I couldn’t hide my attraction to him at all. He teased me mercilessly at every opportunity, and it felt like he did it just to see me blush. He clearly found how bookish, quiet, and prone to embarrassment I was simply hilarious.

I wasn’t shy for his entertainment. I wished I could be different. But I would never be an extrovert like Ward, or his sister. Even dressed up like Tinkerbell and pumped full of alcohol, I was still just doomed to be a wallflower.

Ward and I stared across the kitchen at each other. Usually, I turned into a stammering mess whenever he was around. Thanks to the magic of alcohol, that wouldn’t be happening tonight.

I flicked my gaze up and down his figure and then did my best to tear my eyes away again. It was all I could do not to sigh dreamily. Broad shoulders and an obviously muscled chest narrowed to a slim waist and long legs. Powerful, sinuous arms ended in large, strong-looking hands. But it was his classically handsome face, with fair skin, dark blue eyes, an aquiline nose, and dark curly hair, that made my heart pound against my ribs.

“Who are you, the morality police?” I smiled at him confidently and floated across the kitchen floor toward him. I was buzzed and feeling good. Brave. For once I was brave. “I might be underage, but at least I follow directions. You’re not even wearing a costume.” I leveled a finger at his chest and pushed him back an inch. He laughed lightly.

Ward was dressed up as a football player, which was not a costume, because he was a football player for the Texas Longhorns. He’d actually graduated last May, but was in town for Kate’s birthday, which was two days after Halloween.

“Sure, I am,” he replied, grabbing my hand and tracing the logo with my finger. “This is the wrong team.”

I thought that red color looked unusual. I shrugged and smiled up at him. “You can’t expect me to know that. I don’t have much interest in sports.” We were still almost holding hands. His enveloped mine completely. I liked the feeling.

“Hmm. What do you have an interest in, Tinkerbell?” His voice was soft, and there was something hot and heavy in his gaze.

“Emma,” I corrected automatically, still not pulling my hand away. I didn’t want him to get in the habit of calling me that.

Ward laughed at my answer. “Oh, so you’re self-obsessed?” He shrugged. “At least you’re honest. Most girls really try to hide that, at least at first.”

I giggled at him and my tone turned teasing. “Don’t call me Tinkerbell. And I have lots of interests. But what about you? Do you have any outside of football or is it all just visions of sweaty men with balls in your head?”

He smirked and set the beer he was holding in his left hand down on the counter with a decisive clink. His response was slow and suggestive. “Well now, I just have all sorts of interests beyond that.” His native, Texas drawl gave the words a few extra syllables we didn’t have in Connecticut. I smiled shyly up at him and listened as he continued. “For one, I’m finding myself very interested in you, Emma.”

My lips parted in surprise. Ward was interested in me? As in, romantically interested? Interested in sexy-fun-times with me? The fact that we were standing alone, basically holding hands in the darkened kitchen suddenly percolated through my alcohol-soaked brain. He seemed to realize it too and straightened. He blinked like he’d just been awoken from a trance, releasing my hand which I pressed to his chest. I could hardly believe I was touching him. I stared at the hand like it belonged to someone else, and then looked up at him.

The look in his eyes suggested that he was thinking us through, just like me. He was Kate’s brother, no longer a student, and definitely not going to stick around. I was on the rebound from the world’s worst relationship, painfully shy, semi-drunk, and essentially wearing lingerie in public. We’d spent all most all of our time at this party until this point trading pointed jabs. But now I had a very different sort of exchange in mind.

Before I could overthink anything, I leaned up and up—he was much taller than my five-two—and kissed him. He wrapped his arms around my waist, crushing my stupid wings and then mumbling an apology against my lips. I could hear his heart beating hard as he pressed me closer into his chest, and he teased my tongue mercilessly with his until I was breathless. A dull, throbbing ache was starting in my core, and any silly things like consequences receded in importance. I only needed to fix that needy ache. The sound of someone laughing in the room beyond pulled us back to the moment. We needed to get out of this kitchen.

“Come on,” I told him, pulling him towards the hall. “My room is this way.”

He hesitated. “Emma, in three days I have to go back to—” he started to say. I shook my head and cut him off with another kiss.

“I know,” I told him when I pulled away. I leaned up to play with the soft tendrils of dark hair that curved around his ear, and then leaned up to whisper. “I’m not asking you to go steady.” He shivered and squeezed my waist.

“Are you sure?” he asked again. Distantly, I admired his willingness to be honest about what he was offering me and obtain my consent. He wasn’t offering love, or friendship, or even companionship. Just… right now. Just tonight. Impulsively, I decided it could be enough.

In that moment, I didn’t care that this would be very, very temporary. I was taking a risk and part of me knew I’d pay for it later, but at that second… I wanted to be the sort of girl who did fun and spontaneous things. I wanted to be brave. I wanted to be the girl who could recover from the last asshole I’d been with and come out swinging. I’d never done anything remotely like this before, but I found myself more excited than scared. Maybe I was channeling my inner, plucky Tinkerbell. Or maybe I was just dumb, drunk, and horny.

Whatever the reason was, my desire was simple. My answer was simple too.

“I know when to admit what I want, Ward. Do you?”

He smiled a slow, crooked smile, and then followed me back to my room.

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