Page 5 of Orlando

“Oh, shit. Okay.” He gives me a cautious look. Dante is the only one I’ve told about my little ghost. He also knows the song’s about her. He knows everything. “What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.” I sigh.

“Okay,” he agrees while nodding his head. “You sure?”

“What should I do?”

“Talk to her? Find out why she ghosted you?” he suggests.

“What difference does it make? She’s a ghost, and that’s how she’s going to stay,” I grunt. “I’m heading out.”

“I’ll come with.” Dante stands to follow me.

“No, stay,” I tell him.

He gives me a skeptical look. “I’m good. I’m just gonna hit the studio.” Truth is, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.

“You’re letting her run you out of this place and she’s been back for a whole hot minute, Orlando. Fuck that. Get your ass to class. If she’s a ghost, then let her be one. Ghosts can’t touchyou,” he says in a firm tone that probably has others doing his bidding. I’m not others.

His words sink in, though. He’s right. This is my fucking school and I’ll be damned if I let a ghost run me out. “You’re right. Do me a favor? Find out her schedule. I want to know all her classes,” I tell him.

I walk into my first class fifteen minutes late. The teacher looks up at me and then carries on with whatever he was saying. No one will question me. I pause in my tracks. She’s here. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is AP English and she was always bright.

Some punk-ass jock is sitting in the chair next to hers. I walk up to him and stand in front of the desk. “Mind if I take this seat?” I ask him—although we both know I’m not giving him an option.

Josie, who is sitting two rows back, raises her eyebrows at me. I know she’s going to have a million questions about this when class is over. But for now, my aim is to make Little Miss Aleeka as uncomfortable as possible. And she is. I can tell by the way she refuses to look at me, the way her chest rises and falls quicker, and her hands shake just a little bit.

The jock gets up and moves without a word, and I fill his vacated seat. I don’t say anything. Don’t acknowledge her. I do, however, hum the tune to “Ghost” throughout class. I can see her shift in her seat through my peripheral vision. It doesn’t fill me with as much joy as I thought it would.

I wanted to see her hurt the way she hurt me. But noticing how… sad and uncomfortable she looks just makes me want to make it better for her. Which pisses me off, because the last thing I should want to do is help her after the way she ghosted me.

As soon as class is over, I get up and storm out of the room without a backwards glance. I shouldn’t have sat next to her. Icould smell her, that same fruity scent I used to drown in when she’d spend hours lying in bed with me.

Fuck, I need to get her out of my head. And maybe now that she’s back, I can. This could be a good thing. I’ve obviously built her up in my mind because she left without a word. The memory can’t be as good as the reality, right?

I need one more night with her to kick the pedestal I have her on out from under her feet. Then I can move on and fucking forget about her.

Chapter Three

He sat next to me. What the hell is he doing? I didn’t dare look at him. I can’t risk getting caught in his spell again. That happened earlier today, outside the guidance office. I thought I could do this. I didn’t think he’d remember or recognize me.

I was wrong. So very wrong.

Sitting here in the library, around the back and hidden between the stacks, I’m finally alone. I’ve texted Dad to check on Sebastian. His response was a string of photos, showing me just how good my son is doing.

It was on the tip of my tongue. Orlando was right in front of me. I could have told him. Instead, I froze. Just how do you tell someone, a seventeen-year-old boy kind of someone, that they’re a father? Oh, and you’ve been hiding that child from him for the past five months.

When it comes down to it, I was chicken shit. I still am. I’m terrified of how Orlando will react. I’m also terrified of losing Sebastian. But then there’s the chance that Orlando won’t believe that our son is his, or he won’t want anything to do with him. What rock star wants to be tied down with a kid?

I told my father I’d reach out to my old friends. I thought about it. I saw them all in passing. I just didn’t stop to talk to any of them. They looked at me with curiosity, but then turned away. I knew coming back here was a mistake. I should have stayed home. I want to be at home with Sebastian, not in this cesspool of teenage angst they disguise as a school.

I wipe a stray tear from my cheek and pack up the lunch I was attempting to eat. It’s pointless. I can’t stomach food. Again, I’m blaming the lack of sleep on my emotional state. It has nothing to do with the feelings I have for Orlando being stirred up.

“Hey, are you okay?” A soft voice startles me out of my own thoughts.

I wipe furiously at my cheeks. “Uh, yeah. I’m good.”

“I’m Josie. You’re Aleeka, right?”

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