Page 11 of Man of His Dreams

“That’s… my ex.”

Flip had taken the selfie six months ago, when the shadows were already deepening but he was still hoping for a happy resolution. Flip’s newest book had just released, and he and Ethan had celebrated with a weekend getaway to Catalina Island. The picture had been taken on the ferry ride over. They had a big argument just a few hours later and both spent the rest of the weekend sulking, playing on their phones and barely speaking to each other.

“I’m better looking,” Scratch announced.

“Agreed.”

“What happened to him?”

Flip shrugged. “Nothing. As far as I know, he’s still in Oakland. He probably has a new boyfriend. Maybe Ethan’s cheating on him too.”

With a derisive snort, Scratch set the phone screen-down on the nightstand. “I never did that… exactly. Mostly I didn’t make any promises. Not to the fellow who killed me and not to his wife. Only slept with each of them once. Not even once with the wife, really. Bastard killed me while we were in flagrante. He could’ve just joined us instead and then we’d all three of us been happy.”

“Well, Ethan did. Cheat, I mean.” But he might as well be honest, at least in his dreams. “I wasn’t entirely blameless.”

“You cheated too?”

“No. But I didn’t treat him all that well, and when he tried to talk to me about it, I just shut him out. Story of my life.” He’d seen a therapist for a while, a few years back, who thought that Flip might be pushing people away before they had a chance to reject him. Maybe so—probably the result of shithead parents and a fucked-up childhood—and it was possible that a whole lot of counseling and effort might have improved him. But Flip had bailed on the therapist too.

“Bad decisions, huh?” Scratch’s smile looked sympathetic.

“Yeah. One of many.”

“Least yours didn’t get you shot.”

He had a point.

They sat there together, watching the ceiling fan spin, each lost in his own thoughts. Except Scratch wasn’t lost in anything because he was just a figment; Flip needed to remember that. It was difficult to do, though, when he heard Scratch breathing—did ghosts need to breathe?—and felt the slight pressure of Scratch’s shoulder against his.

Anyway, it was surprisingly nice, just relaxing in silent company. They’d each traveled very different roads, but they could share these moments.

Except Scratch wasn’t real, dammit.

Although he sure felt real when he took Flip’s hand in his and kissed his knuckles. “You got long fingers,” Scratch said. “Like a piano player.” He stretched out his free hand as illustration.

“Well, I do play a computer keyboard.”

Scratch chuckled and bumped their shoulders together. “You know,” he said after a pause, “that kiss was mighty nice.”

“It was.”

“And you don’t have any clothes on, and I could also not have any clothes on, and….” He sighed deeply. “It’s been so long, Flip.”

“It’s been a dry spell for me too. Which is probably why I’m dreaming you.”

“You’re dreaming me ’cause I’m here,” said Scratch. “And how long has your dry spell been? ’Cause mine’s lasted for a century.”

Four months suddenly didn’t seem like so long.

While Flip was still considering this, Scratch did a gymnastic feat and was suddenly straddling Flip, torso bent forward so their lips could meet. This kiss was even better than the first, because now they knew each other a little better, and Flip was naked, and their groins were in contact despite several layers of cloth between them. And Scratch had a true talent for this, knowing exactly how to alternate between delicate brushes against tender skin, hungry invasions with his tongue, and teasing little nips along jawline and down the neck.

“Thought… you were a ghost… not a vampire,” Flip panted. He had his hands planted firmly on Scratch’s hips, holding him in place.

Scratch merely hummed a laugh and began working his way down Flip’s chest. When he bit playfully at a nipple, Flip nearly lost his mind.

Things would have proceeded very quickly from that point, except Flip remembered his plans for the following afternoon and froze.

“Something wrong, baby?” Scratch looked concerned.

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