Cian
My mind is swirling with half-formed plans as I float down through the floors. Trissa knows there’s a ghost in the house, and by some miracle, she’s not afraid. If I can figure out a way to keep my wits about me and just talk to her, maybe we can eventually be… something. I know now that she’s welcoming of my attention, which does help to ease some of the guilt that’s been eating at me. A satisfied smile teases across my lips as I remember our earlier enticing interaction, if anything, she’s been coming on to me stronger since I’ve tried to back off.
Trissa comes into view and my smile fades as I take in her demeanor. Her beautiful blue eyes are glassy with tears as she shakes her head and speaks into the phone. In an instant I’m hovering just behind her, trying to listen in to what has her in such a state. I hear Kyle’s voice and feel a wave of vexation rush through me as I listen to his cutting words. Doesn’t he know when to fucking quit? The rat bastard will pay in blood if he ever tries to step foot in my house again.
I’m just about to break my own rules and reach out to try and comfort Trissa when her expression changes and I watch her eyes harden with resolve. She spits venom back at him and ends the conversation not long after, getting in the last word and taking back some power for herself. I swell with pride as I watch a timid little smile lift the left side of her lips. I want to hold her, to tell her how amazing that display of courage was. I’m buzzing with energy and her nearness is tempting me far more than I’d like to admit. I desperately want to reach out and touch her, but as much as I want something to develop between us, I’m still not sure how to go about it, so I settle on a whispered, “Good girl”.
I blink when her phone dings. She hesitates for a minute before lifting it up and opening her messages. I lean forward to read the text and blink again when I see the words I’d just spoken on her screen from an unknown number. She writes something about a wrong number as an electric pulse courses down my spine and my skin tingles with energy. Is that… I stare at her screen in shock, stomach fluttering with an implausible hope.
“Bad girl,”ding. My heart races.
“Funny girl,”ding. Holy fuck!
“Clever girl,”ding. I arch my brow and add quickly, “Add a dinosaur GIF from Jurassic park!”Ding. This is really happening. How is this happening? Trissa laughs and lets out a little snort and I flush with pleasure knowing that I made her laugh. Me! She starts typing and I hold my breath as I lean in to see the message.
Trissa: What are you doing? Do I know you?
Shit! What do I say? Hi, it’s me… the ghost you’ve been dry humping, sup? I groan inwardly and slap a hand over my face. My stomach clenches with nerves and I can hear my heartbeating in my ears. Say something, you dolt! I start rambling nervously, desperate to not fuck this up,
“Good girl wasn’t what you wanted to hear, so I figured I’d keep guessing until I found one that caught your attention.” There! That sounds convincing… right? Or does it sound desperate? I panic and my gut bottoms out as I quickly keep talking, “Should have led with dinosaurs. Silly me. Girls love dinosaurs.”Ding.
Girls love dinosaurs?Fifty years of daydreaming about conversation and the best I can come up with is ‘girls love dinosaurs’. Ugh! I slowly pull my hand away from my face and chance a look at Trissa. She’s smiling! She’s typing… Oh fates, I think I might have emotional whiplash.
Trissa: Interesting strategy, and wonderful deflection attempt. Do I know you?
Damn. I open my mouth to respond but hesitate. A terrible thought pops into my head, and as quickly as it pops up, it grows roots. If I tell her everything now and I fumble, that’s it, I’m done. If I don’t mention the ghost thing it’s kind of like I have two chances to get things right, and a first-row seat to her reaction. I whisper the words like a prayer, “Do you want to?”Please, please say yes.
Trissa: Maybe.
“I’ll take it,” my heart matches the frantic beating of hers as I watch emotion dance over her beautiful features. I follow her fingers with my eyes as she types out her next message.
Trissa: I’m Trissa.
She’s staring at her phone, waiting on my response. A pang of guilt rattles around in my chest, but I quickly push it aside. Iwant her, and this is how I’m going to win her. She’s captivating and I greedily anticipate her reaction as I rasp, “Beautiful. Hello, Trissa. I’m Cian.”
I watch, fascinated as she reads the text and her eyebrows scrunch up adorably. She purses her lips before she whispers, “Cy-anne…Sea-in…Kee-an?”
A shiver rushes down my spine and I moan softly at the sound of my name on her lips. She scrunches her brow and types while I’m left, yet again, fighting for self-control.
Trissa: How is that pronounced? Like Key-an? Cian?
I bite my lip and shudder again savoring every minute of this. I can’t recall ever having such visceral reactions to someone, even when I was alive. That in itself is arousing in a way that makes everything feel so much more vivid.
“Yes, just like that. It’s an Irish name,”ding.
Trissa hums in approval and whispers, “Oh, yes please!” I chuckle as she lays back on the couch, tucking her feet in and rearranging the blanket. She brings her phone up to her chest and her fingers slide over the screen.
Trissa: Oh nice! Are you from Ireland? Do you have an accent?
“No, I was born and raised in Massachusetts. My father came over with his parents when he was young. They started a small shop that my dad took over after my grands passed. He still had a bit of an accent, but it sort of faded over time. I’ve been told I have a slight lilt, but no, not really,”ding.
My heart aches talking about my family, but I suppose in a way its cathartic. Trissa bites her bottom lip and a little blush spreads over her nose.
Trissa: Aww, that’s so cool. Sounds like you may be local. I’m in a small town in Mass called Kismet Falls, have you heard of it?
Shit… indecision sits like a weight in my stomach. I don’t want to outright lie to her, but I also can’t make myself too available yet. Plus, if I tell her too much and she tries to look me up this whole thing will blow up in my face. Pretty sure a fifty-year-old obituary is not the kind of dirt you want to find on a prospective paramour. A flash of concern bolts through me as I realize that Trissa’s sense of self-preservation is incredibly low, if a ghost is more concerned about disclosing whereabouts than she is.
“I’ve been to Kismet Falls, it’s a beautiful place. I’m currently floating around a bit, but yes I’m local to New England.”Ding. There. No lies.
