Page 45 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

“So…how does this work? The whole possessing people thing.” I blinked. “Do you have to always be attached to someone? And if you aren’t…is there limbo?”

Prudence glared at me, his dark brow flickering. Light played off of his piercings and I licked my lips in fascination. The grim reaper tattooed on his arm flexed where it was half covered by the hem of his sleeve as he stared me down, Adam’s apple bobbing. Yum.

“I have to be attached to someone,” he repeated, holding perfectly still, though it didn’t take a genius to see that he wanted to run from the conversation. I wasn’t sure why this was so hard for him. But then again, I’d never been a ghost before, so what did I know about how hard it was?

“Eat a fry, Prudence.” I picked up the fries again, waving them at him with an eyebrow wiggle that made him roll his eyes. He did as I said, his fingers immediately reaching for the box. The way he moved was…almost shy. I stared at the designs he had tattooed around his thick knuckles as he squeezed a fry between his pointer and thumb and brought it apprehensively up to soft-looking lips. L-I-A-R. Liar spelled across his knuckles, a letter on each finger. Huh. I wondered why he’d had that tattooed? It gave more meaning to the fact he’d called me a liar at least twice since we’d met.

Maybe for him, it was less an insult, and more a warning.

My lungs froze as Prudence’s nostrils flared. He brought the fry to his lips and chomped the golden-potatoey-straw-of-goodness with a flash of white teeth.

He chewed.

My lungs expanded again.

I had no idea something as simple as chewing could be so captivating. But I figured…for Prudence—if this was truly his first time eating after death—maybe this moment was more important than it seemed. Monumental even.

He finished the fry in silence.

When he was done Prudence crossed his arms, pale eyes all murder-y, dark crush of bangs falling across his brow. His hair was long enough on top that it flopped spikily forward. The shaved sides gave it an effortless punk feel that had me foaming at the mouth.

Hello emo phase I thought I’d outgrown.

The more I stared at him the more I realized that he was actually kinda cute in an…angry way. Terrifying too. Like one of those bulldogs that look sweet until they try to bite you through a fence.

I offered the full container to him again, but he didn’t take any more. He did, however, turn his attention to it, instead of me. I wasn’t sure if I missed the weight of his gaze or if I was relieved to get a break from it.

Prudence made me feel things.

All sorts of things.

I didn’t care what Violet had told me. This, right here. This was worth it.

“You want more?” I asked, shh, shh, shh-ing the box at him as he glared way too seriously at the fries, his lip curling in what looked like disgust. “You can have some—” I singsonged as I shh, shh, shh-ed the salt again. Quicker than I could blink, he struck forward, fingers wrapping around my wrist. His skin was icy to the touch but surprisingly supple as he squeezed hard enough that I nearly dropped the box entirely.

“Luca.” My name was a warning on his lips.

I’d always been good at ignoring those.

“Prudence.” I wiggled my eyebrows at him again, though I did follow his unspoken command to stop waving the fry box around. “Eat the fries, Prudence.” I blinked. “If you want to.” I tacked on, suddenly worried I was reading him wrong.

But…I wasn’t.

My people skills, once again, did not fail me.

Because the second he was given permission, he snatched the box out of my hand and retreated to stand on his side of the table again. I felt the distance between us keenly. I never thought I’d get so attached to his presence but hey—here we were. Only a few weeks and some change in and BAM. I was attached as fuck.

Prudence glared at the fry box like it was about to grow arms and pop him one right in the face.

Betrayed by potato.

A true tragedy.

And then…he brought the box to his mouth, tipped it back, and put away the entire remainder of its contents like a pint-sized garbage disposal. I watched in fascination, then surreptitiously peeked at the floor to see if maybe it had passed right through him and left a pile of fries on the ground—but nope.

Nothin’.

When he finished he set the carton back down on the table and glared at me for the zillionth time that day, challenging me to speak. If I was a smarter man I probably would’ve gone back to working on my job applications and let him process his McDonald’s in peace. But I wasn’t that smart. And besides…I was curious.

---