A/N: So I love all of your costume ideas, and that most of the suggestions began with "Eric naked, and covered only by a (fill-in-the-blank)." HA you guys crack me up! But I did some soul searching and came up with something a little different. I hope ya'll like it :D

Disclaimer: All these awesome characters belong to the equally awesome Charlaine Harris.

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Eric POV

It was the day after we had broken up, and she looked like hell, although I was pretty sure I didn't look much better. She tiptoed into class, late, and didn't make eye contact with anyone. She wasn't wearing make-up, her clothes were wrinkled, and her hair was totally unkempt. And not once did she look at me. To say that I was concerned would have been an understatement. For about the one thousand, two hundred, and thirty-fourth time, I questioned whether or not I had done the right thing.

When she showed up to class on Thursday looking the same way, with even darker circles under her eyes, I debated trying to talk to her, but she scampered out of the room the instant the bell sounded. I felt a heavy sense of guilt knowing that I was the cause, and an even greater sense of frustration. Every instinct in my body was telling me to go to her and apologize for being such a moron, and beg for her forgiveness.

The only thing that stopped me (and it was a huge, boulder-sized thing) was fear. (A small part of me unhappily acknowledged that Sookie had been justified in calling me a coward). But I knew how our relationship would be perceived by the rest of the world; on some level, I had always known, but the incident with that fucker Quinn seemed to bring everything into a sharper focus. I finally realized that it was completely possible (even probable) that someone else might find out, someone who wasn't understanding (unlike Pam) or who couldn't be silenced (unlike that piece of shit).

I didn't think it was fair to potentially place Sookie in a storm of controversy and criticism that might destroy her life. And if I was being totally honest, then yes, I was worried about my own future as well.

Time, I assured myself. Time was what we both needed.

Right.

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Sookie POV

The next two days were the most difficult of my entire life. And coming from someone whose parents had passed away when she was seven, that's really saying something bad. I couldn't commiserate with Amelia, or get advice from Claudine, or even talk to my grandmother about it, because our relationship was and had to remain a secret...even if it was over. God, every time I thought about it, there was a dull, empty ache in my chest. And as far as how I made it through Eric's class...I honestly didn't know. My inner-nerd (and more importantly, my Gran,) wouldn't have let me skip school, so somehow I suffered through it.

On Thursday night, while I was trying (and failing) to study for a pre-cal quiz on my bed, with my books spread out around me, Gran popped into my doorway.

"Sookie, you have a visitor. I know it's late, but I let them in anyway." Her eyebrows were slightly raised, but her soft tone and expression didn't tell me anything, and for a brief, irrational moment, I hoped against all odds that it was Eric.

Gran noticed my odd expression and spoke candidly. "Sookie, honey, if there's something you want to talk about, you know I'm always here. Just please, Lord, don't tell me you're knocked-up," she finished with a half-smile. I smiled weakly and assured her that I was fine, just fine, and not pregnant or anything like it. She pursed her lips a little, with concern- not judgment, but our relationship had always been one of trust, so she didn't push the issue as she turned and headed back to her room.

I glanced in the mirror before heading downstairs and wished I hadn't. I looked like, (pardon my language), shit. But it wasn't any different than how I had looked at school the last two days, so I just sighed deeply and tried to calm my nerves.

It wasn't Eric.

Once I was able to process this fact, I tried not to let my disappointment drown me. Amelia was standing there, arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head at me in an almost motherly display of concern.

"Sookie Stackhouse, what the hell is going on with you?" she demanded.

"Hi, Ames," I said glumly and trudged back up the stairs as she followed. Once we were in my room, she shut the door and swept the books off of my bed in a totally Amelia-esque fashion, before plopping herself down on the comforter.

"Spill," she ordered.

I was too miserable to reprimand her for the mess she had made and proceeded instead to tell her about Eric and I. Naturally, I omitted his name, and occupation, and even where he lived, which caused Amelia to exasperatedly question my vague identification. I refused, though, and finally she allowed me to explain the highlights and lowlights of the story. I was pathetically proud that I only broke down in tears once. I thought to myself, bitterly, that I was improving.

Once I had finished, however, Amelia's first response was to scoff a little at my mystery man.

"This guy sounds like a loser. I don't get why he's so concerned about his reputation; I mean, twenty-five and eighteen aren't that huge of an age difference. And who cares if you're in high school? Anyway, you're more mature than most eighty-year olds I know."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Ames, you really know how to cheer up a girl. Maybe I should just go as Grandma Sookie for Halloween and phone in the next fifty years of my life..."

She dramatically grabbed my shoulders and looked at me earnestly. "Sookie, do you really care about this guy? Like, he could be The One and all of that bullshit?"

I bit my lip before nodding a little.

She smiled. "Then here's what you need to do to get him back."

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Armed with new resolve, a really outrageous outfit, and my first Brazilian wax (Amelia had leaned on the other side of my closed bathroom door and instructed me while I painfully conducted it myself; only Eric could be worth this, I had thought grimly), I confidently sauntered into school the next morning.

It was the day before Halloween, but in a surprisingly cool move on the part of the administration, they had allowed us to wear costumes. It's true that the guidelines for the dress code basically meant that you had to dress like a nun, (and that you couldn't carry any fun props), but after much finagling I came up with something really, really hot.

There was also a traditional but informal gathering thrown by the seniors afterwards, at Bayou Noir. I had told Amelia that I was going to invite my mystery guy there, and since I was headed straight there after school, I needed to pull out all the stops with my costume.

When I saw Amelia in the courtyard, she waggled her eyebrows. "Hey there, Bond girl, love the trench coat and sunglasses. You look great!" Of course she knew that there was a little more, (or more accurately, a little less) to my costume than what it seemed, and I grinned in response.

"Love yours too, Ames! You can put a spell on me anytime." She was wearing regular clothing (skinny jeans, boots and a cute red, plaid top) but her hair was held back by a headband with a tiny little witch hat jauntily placed on the side, in place of something like a flower or a bow. As the bell rang, signaling the start of school, Amelia gave me a cheesy thumbs-up before we headed to our respective classes.

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Throughout the day, I saw some totally bizarre and creative outfits, and a few others which I was sure would get their owners a visit to the office and a trip home to change. (Jason fell into neither of these categories; he was dressed as a football player. God bless him, I loved my brother, but he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.)

The weather was crisp and cool and seasonal (for once!) and there was a touch of excitement floating through the air. I was a little nervous to put my plan into action, but ready. I wanted to convince Eric that being together was everything, or at the very least, that it would be the worst mistake of his life to let me go.

When I arrived in his class at the end of the day and noticed he wasn't there, I relaxed a little with my classmates as we all compared costumes. Lafayette actually was dressed like a nun, a rather sexy one, (which had amused everyone so much that no one realized until a few weeks later that he had violated the "no dressing in drag" costume rule). Claudine was a tall, slender Tinkerbell with delicate emerald wings and a matching dress. Debbie Pelt apparently had seen "Mean Girls" a few too many times, because she was wearing a tight, slutty dress with a headband with animal ears. I even overheard her tell someone that she was "a mouse, duh."

Eventually the bell rang, but it wasn't until Eric entered the classroom a minute later that we stopped chattering. I took a moment to ogle him, and I definitely wasn't alone in my actions.

He was wearing dark jeans that weren't too tight, but also didn't leave a whole lot to the imagination. That was what first caught my attention, (as they were at my eyelevel), before I noticed his black, longsleeved dress shirt that was opened a little at the neck and tucked into those delicious Levi's...my eyes trailed down to a black leather belt (which sent my imagination running wild), and cowboy boots (ditto), and- the real kicker, which I noticed after I looked up at his face- a black cowboy hat. His dark, lean frame conjured up images of John Travolta from "Urban Cowboy," if he had been Scandinavian.

Well fuck me sideways.

He smiled at us as he removed his hat and effectively ensured another "WHAT THE FUCK?" moment when we noticed that his hair had been cut short and styled so that it was reminiscent of Don Draper's in "Mad Men," (only thankfully with much less gel). If I had thought before that Eric was the sexiest man I'd ever met, well, now I would have to say that he was the sexiest man. Ever. Period.

Hoh damn, this was going to make my plan a little more difficult.

His eyes surveyed the class and some quiet talking resumed between students as he commented on a few outfits. I stared at him, silently challenging him to look at me. And finally, finally, his guarded blue eyes met mine. At first he seemed relieved, maybe because I didn't look like a Jerry Springer contestant any more, and then his expression evolved into something else. Ooooo, I knew what that look was. I had seen "lust" on that beautiful face more times than I could count, and for once, I felt confident enough to respond publicly with a falsely saccharine smile. He coughed nervously, looking away, and grabbed some notes with which he began conducting class.

Every time I crossed or uncrossed my legs, or adjusted my belt, Eric seemed to lose his train of thought. I decided to go for broke and pulled out some Halloween candy (which I shared with Claudine) and I started sucking teasingly on a cherry lollipop. Eric gave everyone a short assignment to complete before the end of the period, and as he passed it to my row, he gave me a subtle look of warning. I responded innocently with slightly widened eyes, as if to say, "What's wrong? Something bothering you, cowboy?"

Eventually, the class ended, but my plan was only just commencing. I acted confused by the assignment and I continued to work on it as everyone else filed out, many of them whooping and hollering because of the holiday and the weekend. I was about to move out of my seat when suddenly Sam Merlotte appeared in front of me. I groaned a little internally; Sam was a nice guy, and not wholly without attraction, but I just wasn't interested and there didn't seem to be any way for me to convince him of that.

He was dressed as a dog, which I thought was appropriate, and then instantly I was a little ashamed at the bitchy (no pun intended) commentary running through my mind. I looked up at him and past his arm, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Eric was watching us intently from his desk. Interesting; maybe this could be tweaked a little to fit nicely into The Plan.

"Sookie," Sam began nervously, "I know you said you've been really busy lately, and that's why you haven't been able to hang out, but I was wondering if you would wanna go to Bayou Noir? Uh, with me?"

I pretended to ignore Eric as I stood and responded beneficently.

"Sam, that sounds lovely. Why don't you give me a few minutes to freshen up, and I'll meet you there?" I tried not to laugh outright at the ill-concealed choking noise that came from the Swedish cowpoke himself.

Sam looked a little stunned but he nodded excitedly as he said, "Sure thing. See you there!" He leaned over instinctively to kiss my cheek, and there was a loud bang behind him.

"Merlotte, I know you're new, but that kind of PDA is unacceptable here. Next time it will result in a detention," Eric practically growled as he bent to pick up the book that he had dropped on the floor. Sam's eyes widened a little and he apologized before shooting me another smile and leaving.

I turned and calmly gathered my things, but Eric definitely wasn't ready to let the subject drop.

"You are seriously going with him?" Eric asked me incredulously. I didn't deign to respond, but I did turn to look at him with one, primly raised eyebrow.

He tried again. "Sookie, please don't."

I answered his plea with indifference. "Well, I have this costume and everything, and I'm going anyway. I might as well enjoy it with someone who wants to be with me. I don't think that's unreasonable, do you?"

He seemed at a loss for words.

I continued, injecting a hint of silky seduction into my voice, "Mr. Northman, you haven't even asked me what my costume is, yet..."

He eyed me warily. "I assumed you were a spy, or a British person, or...something."

Oh this was just too perfect. I strolled purposefully over to the door, shut it, locked it, pulled down the shade. Let them find us, I thought recklessly.

I turned slowly to face him and untied my belt, then began teasingly to open the buttons, one at a time. My trench coat opened slightly, revealing the smooth, tanned skin of my completely naked body. I advanced with a predatory gleam in my eye; Eric instinctively took a step back and bumped into his desk.

"I'm a flasher."

Eric just stared.

I was standing right in front of him, but (I thought amusedly) he seemed to need a little help figuring out what to do, so I reached for his large, warm hand and, brushing aside my coat, placed it on my bare breast. He was staring intently at my coat, as if he was wishing for X-ray vision, and he subconsciously began to tease my already hardened nipple. He still seemed suspended in a state of disbelief. So again I moved his hand for him, this time downwards to cup my sex, and when he felt the smooth skin there and how wet I was, something snapped.

His deep sapphire eyes bore down into mine as he regained control and purposefully slid in one long finger. I tried not to lose my mind. The Plan, The Plan, The Plan, I chanted silently. "I wanted to try something new...do you like it?" I asked coyly. The lust in his eyes spoke for him. I allowed him to pleasure me a little longer, but the moment his thumb brushed against my clit, I forced myself to abruptly disengage.

He was crestfallen, like a kid who had just been told there was no Santa Clause, as I began buttoning up my coat in a cold, calculated manner. I reached for my bag and looked him straight in the eye as I said callously, "Thanks for your opinion. I hope Sam Merlotte likes it just as much."

As I turned and stalked away, barely breaking my stride to unlock and throw open the door, I expected to feel a deep satisfaction. The Plan had gone perfectly. He would probably be chasing after me in a New York second, and baring that, at least he would know exactly what he was missing.

But I didn't feel satisfied. If anything, the huge gaping hole had somehow grown larger.

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Coming up: Ooooh, I hated to leave this one on a small cliffy, but remember, "there is no terror in a bang, only in the anticipation of it." And there will be some bang(ing) at Bayou Noir...but between who, I ain't sayin.... :O