Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Provided he’s okay with the “West was within me the first time we went on a date” thing.
As well as the first time we had sex.
Not a big deal, right?
In answer, a pen rises into the air off of the kitchen counter across from me. It wiggles unsteadily in midair, as if suspended by awkward wires, clicks itself open, then attempts to write on a notepad next to it. The poor thing drops to the counter unintentionally. Twice. It lifts itself back up each time and continues to scribble on the notepad before at last falling onto the floor.
This isn’t a strange phenomenon.
This is my dear roommate Westley showing off his subpar skill in moving objects while a candle isn’t lit. It’s apparently a difficult task—maybe even trickier than slipping out of the arms of a slumbering Byron.
I already know what he wrote. I don’t need to cross the kitchen to read a bunch of bad ghost handwriting demanding me to light a candle. “Not now,” I tell him.
The pen struggles to rise off of the floor. It falls three times in a row.
I guess West isn’t having a good night.
“Not now,” I repeat a touch firmer. “I’m not ready to talk. I … I still need to think.”
The notepad is flung straight off of the counter in frustration, landing near my feet face-down.
“Oh, way to throw a tantrum.” I set my glass on the counter behind me, apparently not thirsty. “Look, this isn’t any easier for me, okay? There are just too many things we don’t know yet.” I grab the notepad off of the floor and set it next to my drink, not even reading it. “I care about you, alright? I know this might seem cold, but … I need to focus on Byron’s wishes, too. He wants us to get a place together. Honestly, I’d like that, too.”
Suddenly there’s an unlit candle floating toward me from the other room. It trembles, then steadies itself. Trembling. Steady. Trembling. Steady. It doesn’t make it all the way, dropping near the entrance to the kitchen.
I wince. “Nice try.”
The candle suddenly skitters across the floor, as if kicked, then comes to a rolling stop by the fridge.
This is typical unlit-candle-West behavior. Even his sulkiness is expressed perfectly without him having any physical form.
I won’t be left alone until I indulge him. I pick up the candle, open the drawer near me with the matches, strike one, and bring a flame to life.
West appears way closer to my face than I thought he was, startling me. “I’m gonna punch you in the nuts.”
“Not a very nice greeting. We need to work on your manners.”
“You didn’t even read the note.”
“I don’t have to.” I take my glass back and go for a sip, slowly pacing the kitchen.
He huffs at my back. “So what is it? Are you mad at me about the close call earlier?”
“Keep your voice down.”
“The rod fell. Big deal. You blew out the candle in time, anyway.”
I stop by the fridge. “And if I hadn’t?”
“So? You’re clever. You could have lied and said I was a coworker of yours from Pixelomenon.”
“Another lie to my fiancé. That’s your suggestion.”
“Every relationship is built on a healthy bed of tiny lies. Besides, you didn’t even tell him the real reason your phone’s broken. That was your choice.”
I eye him. “First off: Is this lovely advice of yours the reason your relationships were such stellar examples when you were alive?”
“Ouch.”
“Second: I already put in an order, I’ll get my new phone delivered as early as tomorrow, and he doesn’t have to know that he almost lost his fiancé today. Why stress him out? We have enough on our minds.”
West glares at me. “I know you want to have your little happy-ever-after with your Pumpkin Prince …”
“His name is Byron.” I pull the refrigerator door open in search of snacks.
He rushes up and slaps it shut at once, stunning me. “But since I guess we’re taking our secret to the grave, you and I need to figure out my situation first before you go packing your bags and singing tra-la-la on your way out the door.”
“Tra-la-what …? You almost spilled my water.”
“I’m not gonna let you abandon me like this.”
I face him. “For being straight, you are the clingiest damned ghost I’ve ever known.”
“I’m the only ghost you’ve ever known.”
“What’s the big deal? What if I move out and some gorgeous chick with big tits takes my place? Wouldn’t that make this apartment Heaven on Earth for you?”
That makes him stammer. “It-It isn’t the same.”
“Tits are tits,” I reason with a shrug, turning away and heading to the pantry. I think there’s an open can of spicy chips in there I meant to finish the other night.
“So you’d throw away our whole friendship?”
His words stop me, my hand on the doorknob.