Crack.
Morgan whips around. “What was that?”
“Sounded like a stick snapping.”
“But who snapped it?”
I give his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “Probably just a deer.”
In the direction opposite the broken stick, leaves rustle. “I’m too pretty to die!” he whines. “I’ll end up as one of those terrible ghosts who can’t leave the woods, the ones that take over living people’s bodies, and the body I steal will definitely not be as hot as the one I’m in now—”
“Morgan.”
“And everybody will say ‘Oh, this is what he would’ve wanted, Morgan was so interested in ghosts,’ but it isnotwhat I want, I want to die at the age of one hundred and two in my rocket ship. I assume they’ll have Hilton Hotel space stations by then.”
“Morgan.” I can’t believe this is the same man who looked me right in the eye and said in a husky voice,I’d love to be explicit, but for now I’ll be polite. I’m saying that you’re beautiful, and I want to spend time with you. Ha! I can’t imagine being seduced by Morgan now. He is utterly ridiculous.
“What will they do at the paper without me? IamtheMoonville Tribune! I write under six different pen names to make it look like we’ve got more people working there than we do, but it’s just me and Rick, who does the layout and printing, and Katy, who’s a sixteen-year-old intern. You know Marty Allgood in Sports? Me. Mariah Abernathy, who does the gossip column? Also me. Local News and Community? Me again. Mitch Appleton, who argues back and forth with MariahAbernathy concerning the credibility of her gossip column? Guess what? Me!”
“You made up two journalists who fight with each other?”
“I do what I have to do, Zelda!”
“Breathe.” I grip his shoulders. “You’re hyperventilating.”
“Why aren’t you hyperventilating? It stresses me out that you’re not hyperventilating. I think you might be a vampire for real and you dragged me out here to drink my delicious blood.”
“If I were going to do that, I would’ve brought my knife straw.” I steady my hand over his pounding heart. “Deep breaths, Morgan. In,one, two, three, four. Hold,one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Exhale,one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Come on, keep doing it. In,one, two, three, four. Hold, yes…Just like that.”
We stay locked in, breathing together, for another minute, until he’s calmed down. Until my palm is blazing hot where it’s been molded to his chest. “Are you all right?” I ask finally, hand shaking slightly as I remove it.
“Never better. What about you?” His voice summons bravado, the whites of his eyes two pale embers in the darkness. “You’re the one who got scared there.”
I smile. “Oh yes. Petrified.”
“You don’t particularly love the dark,” he goes on. “Not that you’reafraidof it, but you do spend a great deal of time thinking about ghosts and how much you’d love to meet one, so now you figure they’re always surrounding you, invisible. Which is fun and fascinating to think about when you’re in a well-lit public room, with witnesses and a clear exit. Like at a Burger King. In a pitch-black forest with cliffs all over theplace, turns out it isn’t as much fun to imagine dead people watching you.”
“I’m so glad you’re getting me through this.”
“Happy to be of service.” He pats my back. Then, after a pause: “But whyaren’tyou more scared?”
Good question. I frown as we take baby steps toward the faraway light. With all the trees, we have to do plenty of weaving to keep it in our sights. “I’ve never minded the dark,” I tell him quietly. “I feel peaceful here. I liked being in the woods as a kid.”
“At night?”
“No. I definitely would have, but I didn’t want my parents to come looking for me and find out what I was doing. If they knew how I was spending my days, they might’ve tried to push me into extracurriculars for forced mingling with other humans.” My laugh is rusty.
His reply is an awkward, hesitant “Ah.” Morgan can’t relate. I’m drained after a small dose of human interaction, but for Morgan, chatting with strangers seems tochargehim. I don’t envy this. I have never viewed my personality as a hindrance to be changed or overcome—I like who I am, and the world needs personalities of all types. But itiscaptivating to watch people like Morgan engaging with others in high animation. He’s a great speaker, whereas I’m more of a listener and observer.
“Careful,” he warns as I get whacked across the shoulder with a tree branch. “Sorry. Tried to move it out of your way, but I keep forgetting how short you are.”
I accidentally step on the back of his foot. “Sorry.”
He stumbles, scraping my ankle. I fall sideways, and whenhe tries to catch me, his hands grab my face instead of my arm. “Ope. Sorry!”
I burst into laughter. “We’re going to kill each other. This is ridiculous.”
“So many mosquito bites, we’re gonna look like we have chicken pox. I wanna swat them away, but I’d probably end up smacking you on accident.”
