Page 94 of Faking It Right
“I already do,” he confessed with a sheepish smile.
It was adorable he thought I was oblivious to his little secret. “Why do you think I keep buying it?”
His expression softened, and for a moment, I thought he might kiss me. Instead, he turned back to the TV, shifting closer to press our thighs together.
We polished off our meals as the episode reached its climax. Dr. Shade arranged library books into a makeshift podium while the librarian scowled disapprovingly in the background. “We are gathered here today to pay our respects to Minerva’s ethereal learning journey with a spectral academic validation graduation ceremony,” she announced with exaggerated solemnity.
I nudged Ryker. “Oh, this is my favorite part!”
He snorted in amusement. “I’m well aware.”
Dr. Shade spoke as if she stood in front of an entire auditorium of living people instead of being shushed by the irate librarian who clearly didn’t agree to filming. “We are very proud to announce that Minerva is graduating magna cum laude with a double major in mortality transcendence and post-corporeal emotional phenomenology, along with a minor in liminal existential reconciliation from the School of Spectral Self-Actualization.”
“And I thought my degree was pretentious,” Ryker joked.
Dr. Shade continued. “We are pleased to announce her forthcoming posthumous dissertation is titledHermeneutic Oscillations in the Post-Mortal Consciousness Landscape: The Dialectics of Spectral Being and Interpretive Hauntology as Praxis-Oriented Resistance to Ontological Finitude in Academically Adjacent Spaces, which represents a paradigm-shifting contribution to paranormal phenomenological studies. Her methodological framework of trans-dimensional textual analysis has already revolutionized how we understand intersectional thresholds of academic liminality within this discipline.”
I laughed until I couldn’t breathe. “That’s the absolute pinnacle of pseudo-intellectual paranormal gibberish jargon,” I wheezed. “Where do they even come up with this shit?”
Ryker wiped away tears from the corners of his eyes. “Can you imagine if they actually wrote her dissertation?”
Dr. Shade maintained her lofty demeanor, exuding the arrogance only a self-appointed ghost therapist could muster.“In the spirit of fostering better communication between the ghostly intelligentsia and mere mortals, that translates toHow Ghosts Challenge Our Ideas of Life and Death: Understanding Hauntings as a Way to Resist the Finality of Existence in Intellectual Spaces. I admit it’s a bit of circumlocution, but that’s essential for the depth of the topic.”
I hit Pause, freezing Dr. Shade’s smug expression mid-sentence. “What the hell does ‘circumlocution’ mean? I’ve never bothered to look it up before.”
Ryker shrugged. “No idea. It sounds like something you’d need antibiotics for.”
I pulled out my phone and typed the word into the search bar. The definition was, “The use of many words where fewer would do, especially in a deliberate attempt to be vague or evasive.”
It explained so much as I showed Ryker my screen. “Wow, she used the fanciest term to admit she’s being unnecessarily verbose. That’s like apologizing for talking too much with a forty-minute lecture about brevity.”
Ryker chuckled. “I can’t believe she managed to apologize, ‘Sorry for being long-winded,’ in the most pretentious way that makes her sound even more long-winded.”
“Exactly! I love how she needed a special term to explain her inability to speak plainly.”
“The irony is delicious. Almost as much as watching you try to spell ‘circumlocution’ as ‘circumlotion’ first. Were you thinking of lotion for some reason?” Ryker’s cheeky grin made me laugh.
“Hey, not everyone can spell weird words they’ve never seen before.”
Ryker chuckled. “Fair enough.”
“I bet Dr. Shade uses circumlocution during sex,” I mused, a wicked gleam in my eye. “Instead of saying, ‘I’m coming,’ she probably goes, ‘I am approaching the zenith of physical and emotional stimuli, culminating in a physiological response characterized by rhythmic muscular contractions and?—’”
Ryker swung a pillow at my head. “Stop! I’m going to have that mental image stuck in my head forever now.”
“I’m only practicing my circumlocution skills, snookums,” I grinned, dodging the blow. “Why use three words when thirty will do?”
“If you ever start talking like Dr. Shade in bed, I’m breaking up with you,” he warned, struggling to keep a straight face.
I crawled across the couch toward him, my voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “Are you suggesting you prefer direct communication regarding my intentions toward your esteemed personage, rather than labyrinthine musings on my carnal desires?”
“I would greatly appreciate it if you could momentarily cease your linguistic acrobatics and instead redirect that oral dexterity toward a more physically expressive interaction with my lips,” Ryker joked, grabbing the front of my shirt.
I couldn’t resist the urge to be a brat. “Now who’s being circumlocutory? You could have just said ‘kiss me,’ you know.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
