Free Wasted Words by Staci Hart

cosplay. Some were almost like a book club, where everyone would be encouraged to read something, with bonus points for a prize if you did. And there was always trivia — we’d purchased special tablets designed for bars that ran trivia games — and I had ways of splitting people up so they’d meet as many singles as possible.
    So far, they’d all been a success, but tonight might top them all. Everybody loves a good costume party, and when you mix it up with comics? It’s like a dream come true. For me, at least.
    By seven, we had all changed into our costumes. Bayleigh was dressed, as planned, as Gwen Stacy, in a lab coat over a pencil skirt and tight top, with a black headband on and shaggy bangs. Her blond hair fell over her shoulders as she cut lemons on the bar to prep backups for the garnishes. Greg wore a Spiderman costume, stocking the bar in a skin-tight red suit, cap, everything, muscles bulging. Padding not required.
    I maybe had a small idea of what his plan was when I suggested her costume.  
    My closet consisted primarily of flannel, jersey, and costumes, and I’d settled on Rogue — auburn wig with a white streak, black skinnies, a yellow and green tank under a brown leather jacket, and combat boots. She was my favorite. I just needed to find a Gambit of my very own, and I’d be all set.
    Bayleigh sliced up the last lemon and looked over the plastic tubs. “Crap, we went through more than this last week. I’d better grab some more.”
    “Think you’ll have hands for a couple of bottles for me?” Greg asked.
    She smiled. “Sure.”
    He scanned the platform stacked with bottles. “Grab me a bottle of Grey Goose and a couple bottles of Juarez.”
    She shuddered. “Why anyone would drink well tequila is beyond me.”
    He snickered. “That’s how you end up waking up in a stranger’s bathtub.”
    Bayleigh giggled and trotted off, and I moved to stand next to Greg, lining up shot glasses. “So funny that you guys match tonight. Did you plan that?” I asked, playing dumb.
    “No.” I could hear him smiling from under his mask. “Most girls would pick Mary Jane, but I always preferred Gwen. She was the sweet one — Mary Jane at the time was kind of shallow, but Gwen … she was the good girl.”
    I pursed my lips, trying not to smile.
    “Plus,” he said as he arranged liquor bottles in the order he wanted, “I have respect for girls who wear costumes that aren’t all spandex and boobs. There really is a sad lack of costumes for chicks that aren’t slutty, and I hate the slutty ones.”
    I raised a brow.  
    He chuckled and pulled up his mask. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind looking. I just hate that it’s the norm for you guys. Like, that you feel obligated to look sexy. Personally, I think it’s sexier when it’s not all legs and cleavage.”
    “Like sexy marshmallow! Or sexy hot dog! Or sexy unicorn!”
    Greg shook his head, smiling. “Last Halloween, I saw a chick dressed up like sexy corn. Corn. She was wasted, running around the bar screaming ‘ Shuck it! .’”
    I snorted. “Oh, my God.”
    “That same bar had a costume contest, and the girl who won was just wearing lingerie.”
    My head tilted. “So … sexy … sex machine?”
    “I guess. She walked around all night in heels, fishnets, a corset, and panties.”
    “Original.”
    “So, yeah. I respect a girl who doesn’t think the only way to get a guy is to strut around almost naked, dressed up like a slutty vegetable.”
    “Well, Bayleigh definitely isn’t the slutty vegetable type.”
    He laughed. “No, definitely not. She’s too good for that. I’m surprised she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”
    I smiled. “Me too. Maybe that’ll change sooner than later.”  
    He glanced over, smiling again. “Maybe so.”
    Bayleigh rounded the corner with her arms full of lemons and bottles, but three steps in, her shoe caught on the bar mat, and her eyes flew wide as she began to topple over. In one swift