Page 4 of After Life
I looked up at Julian and offered a small smile when he glanced back down at me. Sometimes weird is worth it, though.
It looked like I’d be kicking my heels for a bit, I realized, so I stretched out my legs on the lower steps and leaned back on my elbows to just take a micro nap and let the sounds of their conversation buzz pleasantly in the background.
It would’ve been relaxing, really, if the damn ghost hadn’t decided to try to scare the life out of me.
“She still on about the stained-glass?” he asked—boomed, really. I couldn’t see him, but I could certainly hear him right next to my ear. “She hasn’t stopped worrying about it since she got here. I swear, the first thing out of her mouth was, oh no, that repair is terrible!” He chuckled, and I could sense rather than see him leaning next to me, comfortable as anything. “You’re the medium, right?”
I glanced up at Julian. Sandra had her arms folded and was frowning thoughtfully now as he gestured toward the window, then went in on some minutiae about the window preservation technique and how it could be applied to... something. I don’t know. When Julian got going on one of his pet topics, I usually kind of zoned out a bit. Sometimes I felt a bit guilty for that, but the fact he seemed to sometimes forget I existed while he got into these conversations rankled enough to absolve me of any guilt.
Beside me, the ghost cleared his throat, their cold presence pressing closer, so I nodded.
He grunted. “Figured as much. I thought it might be him at first, but he’s not quite right.” The ghost chuckled. “I’ve met a few of your sort over the years. It gets easier to tell, once the fear wears off.”
“Fear?” I murmured. “Are you afraid of mediums, then?”
He chuckled. “Not as such. More... afraid of change, perhaps.”
“So, you’re not about to ask me for help, then?” I asked, turning in the direction I felt his presence. “Most ghosts do.”
I could hear a smile in his voice, I fancied. “I’ve been dead quite a while, my good man. Nothing is going to change that. Some of us have yet to learn that, I fear.”
The rhythm of his speech was old-fashioned, his accent closer to mine than Julian’s, and I wondered just how old this ghost was. Usually, after a time, ghosts wear thin, like fabric folded and worn one too many times. This ghost, though I couldn’t see him, had such a strong presence that I was almost certain I’d feel his contours rather than a cold spot if I stuck my hand out in the direction of his voice. “Pardon me for being forward, but have you been here long?”
The ghost made a noise like a laugh, and I wondered If he was shaking his head, rolling his eyes at my rather rude question. “Long enough.”
“Oscar, you okay?” Julian asked, and the coolness of the ghost beside me flared, then vanished like fog in the sun. He and Sandra both were staring down at me with wildly different expressions: Sandra’s annoyed and bored, Julian’s openly concerned.
“I’m fine,” I assured him before he could try to come back down to me. “I was just lost in thought, staring at the glass.”
Sandra’s gaze narrowed, her lips pursing. “Your rooms are this way,” she said briskly. “Come on. Dinner’s at five, but you’re on your own for the midday meal today.”
Julian made some agreeable sound, but kept his worried eyes fixed on me as I trotted up the remaining steps and took his free arm. “I’m fine, really,” I promised, refusing to look back even when I felt the cool pull of ghost fingers on the back of my neck, trying to get me to turn.
THE ROOM WAS SMALL but beautiful in that way only truly old places could be. Sandra pointed out the bathroom down the corridor with a muttered obviously not original nor true to the integrity of the build and all the cubbies and storage spaces in the room. “If you decide you don’t want dinner, contact me at this number before three so I don’t have to come all the way up here,” she added, slapping a small calling card down on the nightstand before striding from the room like he hounds of hell were at her heels.
“Tomlinson never mentioned the place was run by a fellow anthropologist,” Julian beamed, his expression freezing when he caught sight of whatever expression had settled on my face. “I, um... I apologize for getting so chatty with her downstairs. I didn’t mean to make you wait on the stairs forever just so I could natter.”
“It’s fine,” I promised, a hint of a laugh coloring my words. “At least we’re here, yeah? Survived the choppy tide, I didn’t throw up over the side of the boat, the island is beautiful, and we’ve got a house practically all to ourselves for an entire week. Just the two of us,” I reminded him, hoping he took the hint.
Julian’s smile was slow and warm, setting my heart racing at the familiarity of it. “Well, let’s start vacation, hm?”
“I love that idea.”
Julian held out his arms to me, and I all but bounced across the room to land on the bed beside him, mindful of his almost-healed injuries. Julian didn’t let me fuss for more than a second, wrapping his arms around me and pushing me gently onto my back. “Hello.” I grinned up at him. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?” he rejoined, making me roll my eyes at that cheesy old line.
“Well, I’m off for a bit of an extended dirty weekend, aren’t I? I met this adorable, infuriating, brilliant professor who is also rather easy on the eyes, he invited me to run away with him to this island paradise and I just couldn’t say no. Don’t let my boyfriend know—he’s the jealous sort.”
Julian’s cheeks were pink and eyes shining with mirth as he bent to nip my chin. “You’re such an ass sometimes,” he chuckled.
“Just sometimes? Tch. I need to up my game.” I stretched up, brushing my lips against his before pressing the tip of my tongue against the corner, teasing entry. He made a happy, rumbling sound in his chest for that, relaxing back and taking me with him. Kissing without having to be mindful of a timeline was delightful, I decided.
I wanted to mention it, but that’d mean the kissing would stop while I talked and that just wouldn’t do.
We were lazy with it, even though we were both hard as anything, gently, distractedly moving together as hands began to wander. Jaw, throat, chest, hair, bums... We were mapping one another with delicate, seeking touches. The room was warm to start with but grew positively muggy, both of us sweating and slick by the time Julian nudged me back so we could gulp for air. “Is it weird that making out like that is easily one of the top five sexual experiences of my life so far?”
“Definitely need to up my game,” I sighed with mock-sadness. “I was sure that time between episodes one and two, when Ezra went to the museum with Harrison and we had your apartment to ourselves for a few hours, and you got the ice cubes—”
