Ghosts, Costumes, and One Very Stubborn Hope
Kids, New York City Halloweens can be wild.
You get superheroes dodging taxis, drunk nurses arguing with drunk vampires, and one time I swear I saw a guy dressed as a tax refund.
But the most dangerous thing you can haunt on Halloween…
is your own past.
---
The apartment looked like a Party City crime scene.
Orange streamers drooped from the ceiling, a plastic skeleton leaned against the wall in what I assumed was supposed to be a "chill" pose, and Marshall was struggling with an eye patch in the mirror.
"Why is this so hard?" he groaned. "How do pirates see anything? This is a workplace safety issue."
"You don't have to wear it over your good eye, baby," Lily said, adjusting her own pirate hat. "Just put it over the one with less personality."
From the couch, Nox snorted.
"Ah yes," he said. "Nothing says 'sexy married couple' like arguing over ocular dominance."
He was in "costume," allegedly.
Which is to say: he was wearing a normal black Nyx Co jacket, black jeans, boots, and a simple black fox mask pushed up on his head like a headband.
"That's not a costume," I told him. "That's Tuesday."
"It's minimalist," he said. "I'm going as 'a man too rich to try.'"
"You're not even carrying a prop," I pointed out.
"Incorrect," he said, holding up his drink. "Character study."
Lily gave him a look.
"You own a fashion and tech company and this is the best you can do for Halloween?" she asked.
"No," he said. "This is the least I can do. That's the point."
Marshall finally got his eye patch where he wanted it and turned dramatically.
"Behold!" he said. "Marshall the Dread Pirate and Lily the—"
"Slutty Pirate," Lily supplied cheerfully, striking a pose.
"You look amazing," I said.
"You're dating her," Nox told Marshall. "You're legally required to say that louder."
Marshall nodded, then raised his voice.
"You look AMAZING," he repeated.
Lily beamed.
"Better," Nox said.
---
I was half dressed—shirt, pants, shoes—no costume yet.
Which was intentional.
Because I wasn't going as anything this year.
I was going as a man on a mission.
"Okay," Lily said, finally satisfied with everyone's outfits. "What about you, Ted? No costume? You're not going as… I don't know… a building?"
"I'm not going to the Halloween party," I said.
Three heads whipped toward me.
"What?" Marshall yelped. "Dude, the rooftop party is a tradition. We've gone every year since we moved here."
"I'm going," I said. "I'm just… not going as anything."
Nox narrowed his eyes.
"This is about her, isn't it?" he asked.
I tried for innocent.
"Her who?" I asked.
He stared.
"The Slutty Pumpkin," he said.
Lily groaned.
"Oh no," she said. "Not this again."
"What do you mean, 'again'?" Robin asked, stepping out of my bedroom.
She was just putting on her jacket, hair loose, makeup perfect. Tonight's look was less "costume" and more "I have somewhere cooler to be later."
Which she did.
Future Me sighed.
Kids, at this point your Aunt Robin was dating a guy named Mike. Mike was a great guy. Attractive. Confident. Charming.
I hated him.
---
"You told her about the Slutty Pumpkin?" Marshall asked me.
"Not yet," I said.
"Well, now I want to know," Robin said, sliding into the armchair. "You can't just throw that phrase around and not explain."
Lily sighed.
"Every year," she said. "Every single year."
I took a breath.
"Okay," I said. "So, four Halloweens ago, there was this rooftop party. I went as a hanging chad—"
"Of course you did," Nox said.
"—and there was this girl in a pumpkin costume," I continued. "But, like… a very… flattering pumpkin costume."
"Slutty," Lily translated.
"Slutty," I admitted. "We spent the whole night talking. She was funny, smart, charming. We clicked. She drew little hearts in the condensation on my beer. It was… a thing."
"I'm going to pretend this is not adorable," Nox muttered.
"And then," I said, "just as we were about to exchange numbers, she got a call, had to run, and wrote her number on my arm. But…"
I held up my wrist, somewhere in the distant memory.
"Someone bumped me. I spilled beer. The number smudged. Gone. No last name. No number. Just… Slutty Pumpkin."
Lily patted my knee.
"And every year since," she said, "this idiot comes back to the same party hoping she'll show up again."
Robin's expression softened.
"Have you ever seen her again?" she asked.
"Nope," I said. "But she said she goes every year. So maybe…"
I trailed off.
Nox sighed.
"Ah yes," he said. "The annual haunting."
"It's not a haunting," I said. "It's… fate. We had chemistry. She was passionate about voting."
"So is Grandma," he said. "You don't see me loitering in nursing homes hoping for sparks."
Marshall leaned in.
"Come on, man," he said. "We've always done both: we hit the party with you for a bit, then we head to Mark's thing in Brooklyn. It's tradition."
"Which is why this should be the year you let it go," Lily said gently. "You've been hung up on a girl in a pumpkin costume for four years, Ted."
"That's like… three more years than you should be hung up on any gourd," Nox added.
I shook my head.
"What if this is the year?" I said. "What if she shows up, sees I'm not there, and thinks I forgot her?"
"Or," Robin said, "she moved on with her life and is dating a guy dressed as something less pathetic than a hanging chad."
"You're all missing the point," I insisted. "This is the best lead I've had in years. Halloween is our thing. The rooftop. The party. The chance. I can't just… not go."
Robin smiled ruefully.
"I get it," she said. "You're chasing the one that got away."
She stood, grabbing her bag.
"Personally, I'm going to a party with my very real, not-imaginary boyfriend," she added. "But… I hope she shows."
She meant it, too. Which somehow made it worse.
---
Right on cue, the apartment door opened.
"Knock knock," a voice sang.
Bryce stepped in, bright red wig framing her face, long coat swirling, white shirt and tie visible underneath, a plastic dinosaur under one arm.
"Okay, I am obsessed with this," Lily said immediately. "Who are you?"
"Ellie Sattler by way of chaos," Bryce grinned. "Jurassic Park with a New York budget."
"You look incredible," I said.
Nox's whole face softened.
"Told you," he said. "She goes hard on Halloween."
He got up from the couch, went over, and kissed her, one arm sliding easily around her waist.
Robin blinked.
"Wait," she said. "You didn't tell me she was coming."
"You didn't ask," Nox said. "Plus, I wasn't sure if she'd get out in time."
Bryce rolled her eyes.
"Production wrapped early," she said. "Apparently they can physically see morale drop after twelve hours on fake blood."
She spotted Robin and lit up.
"You must be Robin," she said. "Nox told me about you."
"Hopefully the good parts," Robin said, standing to shake her hand.
"Oh, definitely," Bryce said. "He said you were the only one in the group with a healthy relationship with caffeine."
"That is tragically accurate," Robin said.
Marshall waved.
"I'm Marshall, this is Lily," he said. "We're the married pirates."
"I love that for you," Bryce said sincerely.
"And I'm Ted," I said. "The… guy who's about to go wait on a roof for a hallucination."
Bryce laughed.
"The Slutty Pumpkin thing, right?" she said.
I stared.
"He told you?" I asked, glaring at Nox.
"He tells me everything," she said. "Also, that story is adorable and deeply concerning at the same time."
"Thank you," I said. "That's my whole personality."
---
We migrated toward the door in a loose cluster of costumes and questionable decisions.
Marshall and Lily headed for their Brooklyn party, promising to text updates. Robin checked her phone for messages from Mike, lips twisting when she didn't see any yet.
"You sure you don't want to start on the roof with us?" I asked her. "Tradition. Warm beer. Mismatched costumes. My slow descent into madness."
"I'd love to," she said, "but Mike's thing starts early. Fancy rooftop, open bar, colleagues. I should be there."
"Right," I said. "News anchor life."
She hesitated, then put a hand on my arm.
"Text me if she shows," she said. "I want to know if this urban legend is real."
"I will," I said.
Nox watched that little exchange, head tilted just slightly.
Then he turned to Bryce.
"You still good with our plan?" he asked.
"Absolutely," she said. "We hit the roof with Ted first, witness the ritual, then bail for that director's party. I promised I'd show face."
"See?" Nox said to me. "You're not doing this alone. You have emotional support and a pale fox demon."
He tapped his mask.
"It's still not a costume," I muttered.
"It's avant-garde," he said.
"It's lazy," Bryce corrected. "But he's hot, so it reads as 'mysterious.'"
"See?" Nox said. "She gets it."
---
The rooftop party was already underway when we got there.
String lights crisscrossed overhead, bathing the crowd in warm halos. A punch bowl of questionable origin sat on a folding table. Music thumped from speakers plugged into an outlet someone had definitely stolen power from.
Costumes everywhere.
Vampires and cats. Superheroes and devils. Three separate Jack Sparrows.
And no pumpkin. Yet.
I scanned the crowd automatically, heart already doing that stupid hopeful flutter.
Nox clocked it.
"She's not going to be right there at the door," he said. "Even fate respects dramatic timing."
Bryce looped her arm through mine.
"Okay, ground rules," she said. "One: you're allowed to be hopeful. Two: you're not allowed to ignore every other fun thing happening because you're staring at the door all night. Deal?"
I hesitated.
"Deal," I said.
She squeezed my arm.
"Good," she said. "Because if you're still standing in the same spot thirty minutes from now, I'm stealing Nox and we're leaving you here."
"That's fair," I said.
---
Future Me cleared his throat.
Kids, this is the part where I should have listened to Bryce.
You know, the successful actress with a stable relationship and a functioning grip on reality.
Instead… I did what I always did.
I looked for a girl in a pumpkin costume and tried to ignore the way the rest of my life kept moving while I waited.
---
We grabbed plastic cups of punch ("That's at least 40% regret," Nox said, sniffing it), found a spot near the edge with a good view of the door, and settled in.
"So this is the legendary roof," Bryce said, looking around.
"Many poor decisions have been made up here," Nox said. "It's a sacred site."
"Like a church," I added. "If churches had more Solo cups."
Bryce laughed.
"Okay, walk me through it again," she said. "You just… stand here and hope she materializes?"
"There's more mingling, usually," I said. "But yes, that's the basic gist."
"She didn't wear a mask?" she asked.
"Nope," I said. "Just the pumpkin costume. Orange top, little jack-o'-lantern face, black tights, boots. Brown hair. Great smile. Passionate about civic engagement."
"Honestly, the last part is the hottest," Bryce said.
"Thank you," I said.
Nox checked his watch.
"You know there's a non-zero chance she moved," he said. "Or died. Or had a kid and now spends Halloween wiping chocolate off someone's face."
"I know," I said. "But she said she comes every year. And… I don't know. It feels like leaving would jinx it."
"Or," he said, "staying is the jinx. Maybe the year you don't show up is the year she does, sees you're not clinging to a balcony like a sad bat, and you run into each other at a coffee shop instead."
"You're not helping," I muttered.
He shrugged.
"I'm not trying to," he said. "I'm just saying: don't build your whole night around someone who might already have built hers without you."
Bryce leaned into him a little, hair catching the string light glow.
"If it makes you feel any better," she told me, "if we'd met at a Halloween party four years ago and had instant chemistry, I'd probably still be clinging to the memory too."
"Really?" I asked.
"Absolutely," she said. "People underestimate how powerful a good costume and shared flirting can be. But…"
She bumped my shoulder.
"If it was really meant to be, I don't think the universe would only give you one extremely specific shot," she said. "I think it would give you a few options. Multiple doors. Not just one rooftop, one night, one gourd."
"You're very anti-gourd tonight," Nox observed.
"I'm pro-option," she said.
---
People flowed in and out.
I watched the door. Tried not to. Failed. Tried again.
At one point, a girl walked in wearing an orange dress and for half a second my breath stopped—
Then she turned, and it wasn't her.
"Wrong pumpkin," Nox said gently.
"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile. "Just… seasonal false alarm."
He hesitated.
"You know," he said, "you could text Robin. See how her night's going. Split your emotional investment a little."
I shook my head.
"She's with Mike," I said. "Last thing she needs is me popping up like a ghost. 'Boo, how's your relationship?'"
Bryce cringed.
"Yeah, no, don't do that," she said. "That's some ex energy."
"I'm not her ex," I protested.
"Future ex, then," Nox murmured.
I pretended not to hear that.
---
After a while, Bryce checked her phone.
"Okay," she said. "Director party's heating up. We should bounce soon if we want to actually say hi before everyone's too drunk to remember we were there."
"You should go," I said. "Seriously. I'll be fine."
"Will you?" she asked.
"Define 'fine,'" Nox added.
I rolled my eyes.
"I'll either meet her, or I won't," I said. "Either way, I can find my own way home. I'm a big boy."
Bryce studied me for a second, then sighed.
"Okay," she said. "We'll go. But—"
She pointed two fingers at my eyes, then at mine.
"No standing in this one spot like a statue all night. Mingle. Talk to people. Have fun even if she's not here. Deal?"
"Deal," I said.
She kissed Nox's cheek, then mine.
"Good luck, pumpkin hunter," she said.
Nox clapped my shoulder.
"Text me if you find her," he said. "Or if you need rescuing from someone dressed as sexy tax code."
"I'll be fine," I repeated.
They headed toward the stairs, a fox-masked gremlin and a Jurassic heroine disappearing into the crowd.
And just like that, I was alone on the roof.
Again.
Waiting.
---
Future Me sighed.
Kids, that's the thing about nights like that.
You tell yourself you're just giving fate one more chance.
But really?
You're just giving yourself one more chance to be disappointed.
And that?
That's where things really started to get complicated.
Let's wrap Halloween.
Kids, people think haunted houses are scary.
They're wrong.
The scariest place you can be on Halloween is a rooftop with too much time to think and an old memory you refuse to bury.
---
Time blurred.
Music changed a few times. Someone switched from dance to throwback rock to whatever burned mix was closest to the stereo.
I did my best to obey Bryce's orders.
I mingled. A little.
Talked to a guy dressed as a very committed Wolverine. Chatted with a girl in a lab coat and devil horns ("Science is evil," she said, which… fair). Tried to laugh when people bumped my cup and sloshed punch on my shoes.
But every five minutes, I found my eyes back at the stairwell door.
Waiting for orange.
Waiting for her.
My phone buzzed.
Nox:
> Still alive or have you become a seasonal urban legend?
I smirked and texted back:
Me:
> Alive. No pumpkin yet. Plenty of disappointment.
A bubble appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again.
Nox:
> Remember: ghosts are just unfinished business in a sheet. Don't be a ghost.
A second later:
> Bryce says: "Talk to other humans or I'm coming back there to drag you to a different party."
I looked around.
Humans. Everywhere.
But none of them were her.
Another hour slipped by.
The air got colder, breath starting to fog. Some of the costumes thinned out as people peeled off to other parties, other bars, other bad decisions.
I stayed.
---
Back at MacLaren's, the gang's night was not going great either.
Marshall and Lily's "grown-up" party had turned out to be a bunch of lawyers in sensible shoes discussing escrow. Barney's evening was… Barney's evening.
And Robin?
Robin was somewhere in the city at a fancy news-people party with Mike, the very reasonable, very handsome guy I was trying very hard not to resent.
I didn't know any of that, of course.
All I knew was my own little patch of concrete, string lights buzzing, a punch bowl slowly running out, and a doorway that kept producing everyone but the person I wanted.
Kids, that's the thing about waiting for someone who doesn't know you're waiting.
They never feel late.
Only you do.
---
Around midnight, the party thinned even more.
A couple made out aggressively by the stairwell. Batman vomited neatly into a trash can and then gave a thumbs-up. A guy in a full-body banana suit started a conga line and then, mercifully, left.
I ended up at the edge of the roof, hands on the low brick wall, looking out over the city.
Lights. Movement. Horns. Life.
Down there, people were making spontaneous choices. Going left instead of right, saying yes instead of no, ordering one more drink instead of going home.
Up here, I was stuck—forehead pressed to a four-year-old "what if."
My phone buzzed again.
Nox:
> Checking in. Status?
Me:
> Cold. Still no pumpkin.
A long pause.
Then:
> She's one girl at one party on one night, Teddy. You're allowed to go home.
I stared at the screen.
Then typed, erased, typed again.
Me:
> If I leave and she comes after, I'll spend the rest of my life wondering if I blew it.
He replied faster this time.
> If you stay every year and she never comes, you'll spend the rest of your life wondering what else you could've done instead. Pick your regret.
I locked my phone.
I wasn't ready to pick yet.
---
At some point, Marshall and Lily appeared, pirate hats slightly askew, looking frazzled.
"Grown-up parties are lies," Lily declared. "It was all talk about escrow and mutual funds and whose baby is sleeping through the night. I saw more fear in that living room than at any haunted house."
She wrapped her arms around herself.
"Also," she added, "no one was in costume. I spent the whole time dressed like a slutty pirate in a sea of Ann Taylors."
"Traumatic," I said. "Drink?"
"Yes please," Marshall said, grabbing a cup.
They flanked me at the edge of the roof.
"Any sign of your pumpkin girl?" Lily asked.
I shook my head.
"She'll come," Marshall said. "Right? She has to. That's how stories work."
"Stories," Lily said, "and life are not the same thing."
"Tell that to our wedding slideshow," he said.
She pressed a kiss to his cheek, but her eyes softened when she looked at me.
"You okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine," I lied. "I mean, what's another year standing on a roof alone?"
"We're here," Marshall said quickly. "You're not alone-alone."
"I know," I said. "But you're… you. You found each other. You're pirates. You got out of escrow hell together. I'm just…"
"Waiting for a girl who might have moved to Iowa," Lily finished gently.
I huffed a laugh.
"Yeah," I said. "Basically."
She bumped my shoulder.
"You deserve more than a memory in a costume," she said. "You know that, right?"
I nodded, but the words slid off like rain on plastic.
---
Around one, they left, hand in hand, mumbling something about "couch" and "leftover candy" and "Marshall, you cannot sword-fight in the hallway again."
The party dwindled to a few stragglers.
A witch. A generic superhero couple. Someone in a sheet—actual ghost—scrolling through their phone.
I was alone again.
I went back to the railing.
Not because I thought she was coming anymore.
Just because I didn't know what else to do.
---
Kids, remember this: sometimes we hold on to a fantasy not because we believe in it… but because we're afraid of what it means to let go.
Because once you stop looking backward, you have to look at what's right in front of you.
And in my case, what was in front of me wasn't a pumpkin girl.
It was a woman who lived three floors down and carried a camera for a living.
---
Sometime after two, my phone buzzed again.
I expected Nox.
Instead, it was Robin.
Robin:
> Hey. You still on the roof?
I blinked.
My fingers moved on their own.
Me:
> Yeah.
A few seconds.
> I'm on my way up. Don't move.
I stared at the screen, heart suddenly beating faster.
This was stupid. This was very probably a bad idea. She was with Mike. At a fancy party. Living her life.
So why was she coming here?
Why did I want her to?
---
The stairwell door creaked open.
Robin stepped out, coat wrapped tight around her, hair slightly windblown, eyeliner smudged just enough to be real.
She was still in her costume, if you could call it that—Black dress, gloves, subtle cat ears. Elegant, minimal, effortlessly cool.
"Ted," she said, spotting me.
"Hey," I said. "What are you doing here? I thought you had a fancy rooftop thing."
"I did," she said. "I left."
"What? Why?" I asked.
She shrugged, crossing the roof toward me.
"Mike's great," she said eventually. "He's confident, he's fun, he gets my job. But the whole night… I don't know."
She stopped beside me, leaning her elbows on the wall, looking out over the city like I had.
"I kept thinking about you up here," she said. "Waiting for some girl in a pumpkin costume. It felt… weird to be at a party with free champagne and tiny crab cakes when I knew my friend was standing on the same roof he's been haunting for four years."
"Haunting is a strong word," I said.
"You're literally in the same spot, wearing the same expression," she said. "If you had a chain and a moan, you'd be Dickensian."
I sighed.
"So you came to… rescue me?" I asked.
"Maybe," she said. "Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to ditch a party where people say things like 'synergy' out loud."
We stood there, side by side, sharing the silence.
"So," she said eventually. "Any sign of her?"
I shook my head.
"Four Halloweens," I said. "Zero Slutty Pumpkins."
Robin tilted her head.
"You ever think maybe she's not real?" she asked. "Like she was a fever dream caused by cheap beer and powdered cheese?"
"She's real," I said. "We talked about politics. You don't hallucinate get-out-the-vote campaigns."
She smiled.
"Maybe she's real," she conceded. "But maybe she moved. Or got married. Or realized staying hung up on a stranger from one night isn't the healthiest thing."
"Are you saying I'm not healthy?" I asked.
"Emotionally?" she said. "No."
Fair.
---
We watched the city for a bit.
"Mike's a good guy," I said finally.
"Yeah," she said. "He is."
"Do you like him?" I asked.
She didn't answer right away.
"I like that he gets it," she said. "The hours. The ambition. The… thing where news comes first."
"Sounds like a vote of confidence," I said.
"It is," she said. "I just…"
She frowned, searching for words.
"Sometimes I feel like I'm playing a part," she admitted. "Like I'm The Cool Girlfriend who can hang with the anchormen and laugh at the right jokes and not be bothered when he disappears to take a call about ratings in the middle of a conversation."
"And you don't want to be that?" I asked.
"Some days I do," she said. "Some days I want to be the career woman who doesn't care about relationships, who goes home alone and drinks scotch and is totally fine with that."
"And other days?" I asked.
She looked at me.
"Other days I want to be the woman who walks into a bar and has someone look at her like she's the only person in the room," she said softly. "And not because she's on TV."
My chest did a stupid, traitorous lurch.
"Hypothetically," I said.
"Hypothetically," she agreed.
We fell quiet again.
The wind tugged at her hair.
I wanted to say it.
I wanted to turn to her and say: It's you. It's been you since the first time I saw you standing at that bar with that ridiculous blue blazer.
But there was Mike. And the Slutty Pumpkin. And the fact that every time I rushed something lately, I crashed it.
So instead, I said:
"You know what I realized tonight?"
"What?" she asked.
"I think I've been using Slutty Pumpkin as an excuse," I said. "To not move on. To not risk liking someone who might actually say no to me in real life."
She arched an eyebrow.
"Wow," she said. "That's… impressively self-aware for a guy who just admitted to emotionally outsourcing to a gourd."
"I contain multitudes," I said.
She nudged my arm with hers.
"But seriously," I went on, "I've been telling myself I'm waiting for this perfect girl from one night based on a costume and some conversation. When really… I think I've been too scared to admit that what I want is right here. Messy. Complicated. Human. Not in a costume."
My heart hammered.
She was watching me closely now.
"Ted," she said quietly. "Are you talking about—"
My phone buzzed.
We both jumped.
I glanced down.
Nox:
> Last check-in. Did she show?
Then:
> Also, Robin left the director's party an hour ago. If she's with you, don't be an idiot.
I smiled despite myself.
"What?" Robin asked.
"Nothing," I said. "Just my brother being psychic."
She rolled her eyes.
"I like Nox," she said. "He's terrifying, but in a helpful way."
"Yeah," I said. "He's… good at seeing the stuff I pretend not to."
She studied me.
"And what would he see right now?" she asked.
That I want to kiss you.
That I'm in over my head.
That I'm still unbelievably stupid about love.
"He'd probably say I'm standing on a roof on Halloween," I said instead, "finally realizing the person I've been waiting for all night is not someone in a pumpkin costume."
She swallowed.
"Ted," she said warningly.
"I know," I said quickly. "You're with Mike. I get it. I'm not trying to blow anything up."
She looked conflicted.
"I like Mike," she said. "I do. But…"
She trailed off.
"But what?" I asked.
"But I don't know if he's the guy I picture when I think about thirty years from now," she admitted. "And I don't know if that's because I'm messed up or because it's just not there."
"That's not messed up," I said. "It's… honest."
She laughed once.
"Look at us," she said. "You, waiting for a myth. Me, dating a guy who looks perfect on paper and hoping my heart catches up. We're a disaster."
"Yeah," I said. "But at least we're not boring."
She smiled at that.
---
The stairwell door opened behind us.
We both turned.
For a split second, my heart leaped—orange?
No.
A guy in a horse mask stumbled out, looked around, clearly realized he'd taken a wrong turn, and went back inside.
We burst out laughing.
"Okay," Robin said, wiping at her eyes. "That's my cue. I should go. I need to figure out what I'm doing with Mike before I end up haunting someone's emotional rooftop for four years."
"You sure you don't want to stay?" I asked.
She hesitated, then shook her head.
"If I stay, we'll say something we can't take back," she said. "And I think we both had enough of that this year."
She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around me.
I hugged her back, breathing in the faint mix of perfume and city air and something warm underneath.
"Happy Halloween, Ted," she said, pulling back.
"Happy Halloween," I said.
She started toward the door, then paused.
"If you ever meet her," she said over her shoulder, "the Slutty Pumpkin… tell her she owes me for four years of emotional competition."
I grinned.
"Deal," I said.
Then she disappeared down the stairs.
I was alone again.
But this time, it felt… different.
---
Kids, I never did meet the Slutty Pumpkin that year.
Or the next.
Or the one after that.
And that night, I finally understood why.
She wasn't the one I was really waiting for.
She was just the safe story I told myself so I didn't have to admit I'd already met the woman who scared me more than any costume ever could.
---
Later, back at the apartment, I found Nox sitting at our kitchen table.
Costume half-off, hair mussed, a bowl of candy corn in front of him that he was not eating, just rearranging into weird little patterns.
"You're home early," I said.
"Director party was all networking and people lying about their schedules," he said. "Bryce cashed our social check and bailed. She's in my place washing off fake dirt and Hollywood expectations."
He glanced up.
"So?" he asked. "Pumpkin?"
I shook my head.
"No pumpkin," I said.
"But Robin," he guessed.
I paused.
"Yeah," I said. "Robin."
He nodded like he'd been waiting for that.
"How bad?" he asked.
"Not bad," I said slowly. "Just… complicated. She's with Mike. I'm… me. We talked. I didn't confess my undying love under fireworks or anything."
"Proud of you," he said. "Very character development."
I dropped into the chair across from him.
"I realized something," I said. "I've been using this Slutty Pumpkin story as a shield. A way to chase something impossible so I don't have to risk something real."
He smiled faintly.
"Welcome to the party," he said. "We've been waiting for you."
I grabbed a handful of candy corn, then immediately regretted it.
"What about you?" I asked. "Good Halloween?"
He shrugged.
"I got to watch my girlfriend be the hottest paleontologist in a room full of people trying to out-cool each other," he said. "Then we ditched and got burgers in costume. So yeah. Not bad."
"Must be nice," I said. "Knowing where you stand with someone."
"It is," he said simply. "Terrifying, too, sometimes. But mostly nice."
We sat there in the kitchen, the hum of the fridge loud in the quiet.
"You think I'm ever going to find that?" I asked. "Something that actually sticks?"
He looked at me, really looked, the sarcasm dialed all the way down.
"Yeah," he said. "I do. But it's probably not going to be a girl you met once in a costume four years ago."
He smirked slightly.
"And if it is, I reserve the right to roast you in my wedding toast."
I laughed.
"Deal," I said.
Future Me smiled.
Kids, I didn't know it that night, sitting there in a kitchen that smelled like cheap candy and stale punch.
But that Halloween was the beginning of the end of me chasing ghosts.
Because once you admit the person you're really waiting for isn't a myth…
you've got no choice but to decide what you're going to do about the real thing.
And as for me and Robin…
Well.
That's a story you're going to hear a lot more about.