As I wait for Sage to come out of the lovely portable toilet she avoided for as long as possible, I tug my black arm warmers higher. I tug one anyway. For the left one, I carefully ease the fabric back up to my elbow to avoid pulling at the wrap farther down on my forearm. Other than tonight, I’ve gotten away with long sleeves to cover the bandage.

But, slutty fairies required some improvising.

“Bitch”—Sage bounds over and grabs my hand—“it’s trick-or-treat time.”

She drags me behind a booth for pumpkin carving, but then keeps ahold of me, sidling right up beside me while she bends over to dig in her boot.

“You won’t be cold tonight, huh?” I ask.

Sage tosses my hand away from her, fishes in my boot, and holds her chin a little higher when she straightens. “I’m not cold. I was just trying to show you affection. Sor-ry.”

I let her have it, even if she goes rigid, fighting off a shiver through the attitude.

She swaps the two matching flasks she retrieved back and forth before she wiggles them for me to pick. I reach, but she pulls them away, giving me a look.

“Trick or treat,” I say through my teeth.

A smug smile appears on her shimmery black lips, and I grab one of the flasks. We tap them together and drink. My entire face feels the lemon vodka. My eyes water, and I breathe through my mouth, loathing whoever gave her this idea. Her lips twitch. The Fireball truly is a treat compared to the trick flask I’ve gotten twice in a row.

“I feel warm again.” She snags my flask and tucks it in my boot, then she slips the other in hers.

I head back toward the midway before someone notices us.

“Now,” she says, catching up, “do we bail? I mean, there’s not shit to do other than that house party that chick in your class is throwing. Oh.” Sage grasps my arm, right over the bandage, and I flinch. She doesn’t notice, though, releasing me just as fast. “If we go, you can show me which football players you’ve banged.”

“I have never once said I’ve banged a football player.”

“Right, because you don’t tell me the juicy shit—as we’ve discussed. Regardless, lame party or stay.” She links her arm through my other one. “Those are the only two options.”

“I might have a third,” a deep voice says from behind us.

We both stop, me calmly and Sage stumbling. Then we both smile, hers a little manic and mine wide because Miles and I successfully pulled off his surprise visit. As soon as she turns around, she launches herself at him.

He catches her with a grunt and grins at me over her shoulder. “Hey, Rem.”