Chapter Text
“I want to walk around first,” you tell your friends. They nod, and you all begin to walk deeper into the festival.
You take a deep breath to soak in the energy and excitement of the night ahead. You can’t help but look all around, taking in the people and the decorations. You linger only for a second around some of the booths before catching up to your friend group. But something catches your attention, making you fully stop. You tell your friends to wait up, but don’t glance in their direction to check if they heard you.
While admiring one of the booths, you run your fingers over the skulls hand-painted with intricate details. You lose yourself in all the trinkets on the table, and you look over your shoulder to beckon one of your friends over. But you don’t see them – you don’t see any of them. You straighten and turn to scan the crowd. Nothing.
You feel yourself start to panic as you weave through the crowd. But no matter how many people you pass, you can’t seem to spot a familiar face. You take your phone out of your pocket, the screen lights up your face as you text the group chat. You have to swallow a groan when you notice that the message is going to take ages to send. You place it back into your pocket and continue your search.
Minutes feel like hours, and the swarms of strangers laughing and screaming further add to your unease. Your discomfort intensifies as, while you were checking your phone again, a loud voice sneering next to you.
“You lost?” a man who’s clearly drunk slurs. His friends leer at you, mumbling inappropriate comments to each other.
Your nose scrunches up in discomfort and you try to move past them. They block your way, a different man speaking up.
“Where you goin’?” He smirks down at you, and the way he looks at you makes your skin crawl. You take a step back, but, as your discomfort intensifies, one of them reaches out to you.
“Hey. Move it. Now,” comes a sharp tone from behind you.
The men freeze and you turn around in confusion and relief. Your eye land on a tall, striking woman with short, auburn hair. She’s dressed in a security uniform, a badge clipped to her belt. She takes another step forward to stand between you and the men, unwavering.
“Don’t stand there looking stupid.” she crosses her arms. “Get off the property, or I’m kicking all your asses out.”
The men seem to hesitate, unsure of whether she would be true to her word. But when she takes another step closer, they back off. They scoff and click their tongues, retreating into the crowd. She turns around, gives you a quick once-over, and her expression softens just slightly.
“Are you okay?” She asks you, her tone is now calmer than the one she used earlier.
“Yeah,” you nod, still a little shaken. “Yeah, I think so… Thank you.”
She only nods, her gaze lingering on your tense form. She can tell that your problem went beyond just that group of assholes harassing you.
“Were you looking for someone?”
“My friends,” you answer, your grip on your phone tightened. “My phone. Nothing is sending.”
“That happens a lot,” she sighs as she slowly lets go of her tough demeanor. She looks around briefly before looking back at you. "I could help you find them. If you want.”
“I wouldn’t want to bother you,” you frown, and she gives you a quizzical look – as if you had said something silly.
“It’s my job. I’m Natalie, by the way.”
You tell her your name, and she lifts her hand, casually curling to fingers toward herself. You almost feel pulled to follow her, staying close enough that the fabric of her jacket touches your arm. She looks down at you every few minutes, asking if you see your friends anywhere, but you don’t.
As you continue your search, you can’t help but be drawn back to the colorful booths all around. You stop at one, almost starting up a conversation with a seller over a bat-shaped keychain. Natalie lets out a huff, the corner of her lips curve into a small smirk. Without missing a beat, she grabs your arm gently.
“I can see why you got lost in the first place,” she teases as she pulls you along.
The two of you reach the entrance of the mansion in case any of your friends are in there. You look every which way at the festivalgoers walking about and those in line. You catch sight of a sign next to one of the doorways leading to a haunted experience.
“Hey, what about this one?” You suggest, walking closer to the door, the sign above it reads “Butcher’s Lair.”
“What do you mean ‘what about this one?’” She scoffs and follows you.
“There isn’t a line here,” you tell her as you get your wristband scanned. “Can’t we go in?”
“Aren’t we supposed to –“ Natalie pauses and just stares at you, her brows furrowing. “Fine. I’ve been meaning to check this one out anyway.”
Inside of the room, you can really see how much detail went into all of it. Despite being one to take it slow and marveling at everything, you have to speed up your sightseeing as scare-actors and props jump out at you. You cling to her strong arm like a koala almost every time. She doesn’t seem to mind, finding humor in the whole thing instead.
“Keep practicing, Tony,” she gives the actor an unimpressed look. He throws his arms down, slapping the sides of his thighs in exasperation, completely breaking character for a moment.
She allows you to stay close, making casual comments and critiques as more scares come. She seems to be trying to make the attraction less scary, and it actually works.
“Bet he’s sweating so hard in that mask. Just drenched,” she snickers, earning a laugh from you. The intensity of it all seems to fade with every joke she makes, though you keep an arm wrapped around hers.
Walking out of the exit, the two of you are still laughing. That is, until your stomach growls loudly. Both of you pause and look at each other.
“I’m getting kind of hungry…” You admit sheepishly.
“Kind of?” She laughs, pushing her sleeve up to check her watch. “We can get some food. C’mon.”
Natalie escorts you to the other side of the festival, where many spooky-themed booths offer different foods to choose from. Despite you protesting, she insists on paying for your meal, having deemed herself your personal bodyguard. She even made a joke about hand-feeding you if you asked her to, making your face heat up. Once you have your food, she takes you to a quieter corner of the festival.
The conversation seems to flow easily with her, as if you’ve known each other for longer than just a few hours. She leans back on the bench, an arm draped over the backrest, and you feel the warmth of it on your back. You eat, swapping stories, and you love to hear about the ones from her time working as security. You found yourself getting distracted as you watched her talk. Every time she would swipe her tongue over bottom lip, scratched at her cheek, or got so lost in a story that she used her hands to narrate, you were even more mesmerized than before.
“We had a guy think he could just come in and scare the shit out of us,” Natalie recounts, pausing to munch on a chip. Using the pad of her thumb, she wipes at the corner of her lip, then sucks it to clean the cheese off it. It was as if she was completely unaware of how every little action of hers had you staring dumbly. “Dude hid in the bushes dressed like a zombie. Almost gave one of my guards a heart attack.”
“Does that happen a lot? People pretending to be scare-actors?” You can’t help but smile. She clicks her tongue and chuckles.
You glance down, now feeling a bit shy. “I’m sorry if I distracted you tonight. I know you have to work.”
“Are you kidding?” She pauses mid-bite to give you a goofy smile. “This is the most fun I’ve had all week. I’m glad I saved you from those creeps.”
There’s warmth in her sincere tone that makes your cheeks flush again. You return her smile, grateful that she was enjoying your company as much as you enjoy hers. After a few moments of silence, she speaks up again.
“Okay, you,” she says through a sigh, patting your head playfully. “Let’s get your cute ass back to your friends.”
You laugh, feeling a bit flustered by her casual affection. Once you’re ready to go, she gets up and offers a hand to help you off the bench. You take it almost a little too quickly, earning a chuckle from her. As you walk side by side, she keeps a steady pace, her hand occasionally brushing against yours. You find your friends gathered near a booth, and you both slow to a stop. She turns to you and you flash her a grateful smile.
“Thank you, seriously,” you say, your voice filled with genuine gratitude. “I really don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Die, probably.”
“Aw, come on,” she nudges your arm playfully. “Try not to get lost again, alright?”
If getting lost would let me spend time with you again, you think to yourself, I’m so getting lost again.
With a final wave, you head over to your friends. When you glance over your shoulder one last time, you see that Natalie is still watching you with a smile on her face.