Page 31 of Ghosted
“I’m sorry I shut you out the other day. I was trying to protect myself from hurting. But the truth is when you move on, it’s going to hurt no matter what. Having you here now is amazing, but temporary. And to be honest, it was confusing to feel grief when I found out what happened to you, but also relieved that I still got to talk to you. Then there’s all this… Stuff wrapped up with the whole medium thing. It’s kind of my job, and I felt like it was somehow wrong to have any feelings for you outside of wanting to help you move on.”
I try to think of another way to explain it to him, and land on, “Like a conflict of interest. If I want to have you around for myself, I might not do my job well. You deserve me at my full capacity. You deserve to move on.” I gnaw on the inside of my lip, wondering if any of that made sense.
“What changed?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“You said you ‘felt like it was wrong to have feelings,’ but that was past tense. So, what changed?” He searches my face.
I smile a little. “I spoke to a very wise and scary womanwho pointed out that I made the decision for the both of us without talking to you first.”
He starts moving his hand again, gently moving the ends of my hair until goosebumps populate along my spine. His brows draw together as he says, “I understand why you put up a boundary. It’s confusing for me, too. I hope you know how excited I was after our date. There was this feeling of a puzzle piece clicking in place, or finally finding the perfect cheese to go with your favorite type of wine?—”
I can’t help the laugh that breaks free from my chest. “Wait, so am I the cheese in this metaphor?”
His dimple flashes in a lopsided smile. “Yeah, you are. My favorite Sartori BellaVitano Merlot cheese. Pairs well with a good red.”
“I’ll have to pick it up at the grocery store next time I go. Better make sure you’re not saying that I stink or something.”
Dean gasps theatrically. “I would never. Besides, I can’t smell anything over here anyway. Or at least not much. I get some hints if I really concentrate, but everything is dulled. It’s a delicious cheese, though. I’d eat a whole wedge in one sitting if it wouldn’t wreak havoc on my digestive system.God,I miss cheese.” He sighs wistfully.
“Well, I may not be a fancy, gut-destroying cheese, but I’m here for you,” I say, relishing the way his smile widens.
I decide to experiment in the silence that follows because I can’t help myself—and he’s right there. I concentrate hard on my hand and lower it to his thigh, visualizing what it would feel like to touch him. As soon as I make contact, we both jump. “Holy shit! I felt that!” Dean bounces around in his seat like a kid hopped up on sugar. “Do it again,” he commands. At my obvious hesitation, he begs, “Please?”
I bite my lower lip and catch him tracking the movement. I take a deep breath and look into his eyes again when they lift to meet mine. The hope and excitement there nearly cracks my heart wide open.
I reach out my fingertips, focusing on them as I skim my hand along his cheek. I marvel at the feeling of stubble and warmth. His breath hitches at the same time as mine, and he leans harder into my hand like a Golden Retriever begging for scratches.
His lips part on a sigh. “Yours is the first touch I’ve felt besides my own since I died. It feels so close to normal,” he murmurs.
“I had no idea I could do this,” I say quietly, mesmerized by the feel of his skin underneath my own again. His eyes open, and I’m suddenly very aware of how close we are, my entire body lighting up with the static of him. He looks at me openly, and for the first time, I notice the lighter specks in his irises. They remind me of redwood bark dappled with golden sunlight.
“Can I?” he asks, half a question, the rest communicated by his laser focus on my mouth. His tongue darts out to wet his plush lower lip.
“Fuck it,” I whisper, already leaning in and fluttering my eyes closed. The end is going to hurt no matter what. May as well see if I can kiss him again while I can.
His lips press against mine, and I nearly groan from the light contact. He slowly increases the pressure, the brush of his nose on my cheek, the static of his hand in my hair, trying in vain to bring me closer. It’s overwhelming. It’s all-consuming. I wantmore.
I instinctively maneuver my way on top of him, and thetingling of his body against mine is almost too much to bear. The moment I lose concentration, the spell is broken. I fall through him and barely manage to catch myself on the back of the couch. Dean flashes to the side so we aren’t bisecting each other anymore.
I close my eyes against the burn I feel in my cheeks. I’m not sure why I’m embarrassed. Because I couldn’t keep my composure? Because I almost said goodbye to my front teeth against the back of the couch? Because I have no clue what the fuck I’m doing, or what I hope to get out of this?
I’m suddenly aware of Dean’s panting breaths next to me. He sounds like he just ran a marathon. It’s only then that I notice how cold the room has gotten. I turn my head, still on my knees, and look at him. He’s sitting on the couch facing me, fingertips of one hand pressed to his mouth.
He looks ravenous. And furious. I swallow.
“I really didn’t know I could dothat,” I say, touching my own kiss-swollen lips, shifting to sit down next to him. His jaw flexes, angrily. “What’s the matter?” I ask, worried he regrets the kiss.
“You’re telling me I have to move on after that?” he asks, shaking his head. “Kissing you just now was so much more than it ever has been, dead or alive. Maybe it’s because it’s you, or maybe it’s because, like this, all I canfeelis you. All I can concentrate on is you. There’s no other background noise. It’s just… You. And I have to give that up later.” He reaches out a hand, laying it possessively against my neck, thumb on my pulse point.
“You’re getting good at that,” I say, gesturing to his hand, searching for something neutral to say to bring me back down to earth.
“I have a lot of motivation to learn,” he rumbles, pressing into my pulse point and pulling me toward him. I go willingly, because I am only human after all, and he rests his forehead against mine.
I have no idea what to say. My brain feels like mush, and all I can think about is kissing him again, feeling him again. Against me. On top of me. Underneath me. Inside of me.
That was the most intense kiss I’ve ever had even though it was over in seconds. But I’m supposed to help him move on from here. Help him leave me. My heart thuds heavily, as if it already knows it has to brace for another fissure.
