Page 61 of The Room(hate)

Sebastian gave me a long, suffering look.

“You promised to be nice. Come on. We’re going to be social.”

I expected him to put up a fight but was surprised when he shut his laptop and followed me out.

“I could get used to this,” I said as we took the wooden stairs down from the back of the house to the sloped hill beyond. It looked like there was about a hundred feet or so of grass and then the whole thing dropped off towards the valley.

Cooney saw us coming first. He’d spent more time on the retreat cooking than writing, as far as I could tell. Sure enough, he had a griddle over the fire and was making some kind of sausages he was spearing with metal kebab sticks and handing out. Cooney waved at us, smiling wide. “Come grab a chair!” he shouted before we’d even made it down the stairs.

Sebastian and I sat down between the anti-social couple and Astaire. Cooney was apparently asking for advice on his story and Reggie was in the middle of telling him he should just start over, from the sounds of it.

The personalities around the fire clashed more often than not, but an hour flew by before I knew it and the sun was setting in the valley. The night grew chilly, and the fire became more inviting by the minute.

Sebastian was like a statue beside me, but I didn’t fail to notice he kept taking Cooney up on his offer for more of the little sausages. They were surprisingly good.

“Make conversation,” I whispered when everyone was distracted by another one of Reggie’s rants.

Once Reggie finished, Sebastian cleared his throat. He’d been so quiet and still that the small sound immediately drew everyone’s attention. “So,” he said. “What are you writing, Astaire?”

She’d been typing something on her phone but set it down as soon as she realized he was talking to her. “Picture a ghost hunting reality TV show where the host falls in love with the spirit haunting a lighthouse.”

“That sounds… Unique,” Sebastian said.

From his tone, I wasn’t sure it was a compliment, but Astaire beamed. “I know, right? The working title is His Ghostly Pole. But I was also thinking I could just call it Ghostgasm or maybe even Letting His Spirit In. That last one is a reference to butt sex, obviously. Anyway, what do you think?”

I had to put my hand over my mouth to hide my smile. Cooney took a sudden interest in the sausage he was cooking, probably to stop himself from laughing. Reggie just folded his arms and scowled disapprovingly.

“I think those titles would definitely get attention,” Sebastian said. Somehow, he was remaining completely straight-faced.

“The part I can’t decide is about the love triangle,” Astaire said. “It’s not really on market, but I really wanted there to be a love triangle. See, the host’s best friend comes with her. And the host has this beautiful emotional connection with the ghost. But with her best friend, it’d be way more sexual. Just like pure electric physicality, you know? They can’t even keep their hands off each other, yada yada. But I can’t decide if I should sacrifice my vision to please the market, or just go with my gut?”

Sebastian took a deep, steadying breath. We were all watching him. Even Reggie had cracked a smile and the couple was paying attention with grins on their faces.

“Well,” he said slowly. “I think it sounds very unique. I’d trust your gut on the love triangle. And have you considered the title Ghost Fuckers?”

“Oh my God,” Astaire gasped. “It’s so direct and bold. I love it.” She rushed out of her seat and gave Sebastian a hug. I suppressed an irrational spike of jealousy, then enjoyed chuckling along with everyone else at the ridiculous conversation.

The couple left a little while later, but the rest of us stayed around the fire for several more hours. Cooney, Astaire, and Reggie broke off into a separate conversation, leaving Sebastian and I in our own little world. It was past midnight and Cooney had kept the fire going strongly enough to ward off the cold.

“You know,” I said, turning sideways to face Sebastian in my plastic lawn chair and folding my legs. “When you try, you can be fun.”

“I’d say I’m being blackmailed, not trying.”

“Don’t be such a grouch,” I teased. “It’s not true blackmail. I’m not getting anything out of it, after all. Really, you’re the one getting something.”

“You are getting my obedience.”

I wiggled my eyebrows. “You make it sound so dirty when you put it that way.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. It might’ve even passed for a smile. “I’m going to suggest we don’t go down that route again. Every time we get physical, things fall apart.”

“So your goal is to keep things together, then? To keep us together?”

---