Rich People Problems

xxxi | trick-or-treat

KIMBERLY

IT DOESN'T MATTER how old I get. I will always love Halloween with every bit of my cold heart.

Ever since I was a kid, I loved everything horror-related. Mom used to mutter a quick prayer to God every time Halloween was approaching because she knew I had something up my sleeve.

Harmless pranks, dressing up, scary movies, endless parties...

I used to have many reasons for loving October thirty-first.

Ever since I started drinking and using, Halloween became less fun and meaningful, turning into an excuse for me to get shit-faced. My parties used to be iconic, with everyone willing to sell their soul for an invite.

But, last year, I spent Halloween recovering from my overdose at the apartment. Needless to say, it wasn't a fun time. Vivian, the absolute apple of my eye, tried making up for it with a horror-movie marathon, just like old times.

Vivian was considered threatening by most of the men in our life, the girl could not stomach horror or gore.

Even though Vivi had pure intentions, all it did was remind me of what I used to spend the day trying to forget. I still threw a party, since it was expected of me too, but Vivi kept a close eye on me.

It was torture. Very much Tantalus with everything he could possibly want out of his reach, but I don't regret it. After all, it's the night my baby cousin met the love of his life, even if the ass refuses to call me Cupid.

Speaking of the little shit, I decided to grace him with my presence on Halloween. Out of everyone in our large family, Ash and I were definitely the closest and spent almost all of our Halloweens together with horror marathons.

After the tiring events of yesterday, it was safe to say that a lot of the tension between Jace and I dissipated following our conversation.

When Darius showed up to his office telling me he was instructed to take me home, I almost cried. But after I treated him worse than a casual hookup, the fact that he still cared about sending me home safely sent a sharp pang through my chest.

Then, he didn't answer any of my texts or calls, leading me to excessively worry about his whereabouts. I was this close to calling my underground connections to find him.

Even though he was still mad at me, he managed to cook me dinner, an action that he repeated this morning before he left for work. Thankfully, I woke up significantly late, so he didn't bear witness to the single tear that fell when I ate the waffles.

I pulled up to Ash's apartment building, parking the Range Rover in one of the two spots he had. The elevator ride to his apartment was short, and I punched the code for his apartment into the keypad.

The boy was too predictable.

"Loser," I called out. "Where are you?"

"Just when I thought the Devil wouldn't show up," he replied from the kitchen.

I walked in, placing my bag on the island before hopping into a seat. "Where's Cam? It's your one year anniversary of meeting her."

Ashton, unlike me, was blessed with skills in the kitchen. If you asked me, it was unfair because both him and Camelia were amazing cooks, and I could barely toast bread.

"I know, but she had work today," he replied, frowning. "She should be home in one hour and thirty-seven minutes, so I'm making lunch for her. Do you want some?"

I rolled my eyes at his little obsession for his girlfriend. It was cute, in theory, but I don't think I've ever seen them fight.

I couldn't even fathom how that worked. I needed a little hate-sex.