“Yes it is.”
“No it’s not. It’s the lady who owns the resort’s bed.” It’s such a stupid thing to say. Still, he stands up like I asked. He hovers at the side of my bed, asking, “You want me to go?”
“Yes, you idiot. Get out.”
“For twenty dollars, I’ll go.”
“Fuck you. I’m not giving you anything.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says, stepping past me for the open door. He stops just before it and turns to face me. “I’ll go,if that’s what you want. But I’m sure Mom and Dad will love to hear about this in the morning.”
“Hear about what?” I ask. “About you breaking into my room in the middle of the night like a creep?”
“No,” he says. “About you sneaking out in the middle of the night to hook up with some rando.”
I feel my whole body tense up. Heat fills it so that I could explode. My mouth is dry as I spit my words at him. “I’ll tell them you’re lying. That you’re a fucking liar. That you’re making it all up.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles, his sangfroid triggering as hell so that I clench my jaw, grind my teeth, curl my hands into fists beside me. “I’m sure they’ll believe that,” he says, and it makes me rage to know he’s right, that they would believe him over me, even if it was only his word against mine.
But it’s not only his word.
Because he has proof, on his phone. He holds it out so I can see, scrolling through pictures he’s taken of Daniel and me together. They’re blurry, but that doesn’t mean they’re not good enough to make out our faces. There are pictures of us standing close, smoking weed and standing in the cemetery together.
“It was you,” I say, incredulous, taking in the dark, shadowy headstones in the background. “At the cemetery. You’re what we heard.”
Wyatt sneers. “They say it’s haunted,” he says, mocking Daniel, and I picture him crouched down in the trees, taking pictures of us. What I imagined as a ghost with long, flowing hair like cobwebs, a gaping mouth and hollowed-out eyes was actually Wyatt.
He followed me out of the cottage.
He followed us through the woods and to the cemetery.
He saw everything. Heheardeverything.
I feel sick. Embarrassed. Mad.
No, more than mad. I feel enraged.
When he plays it, the video is so much worse than any of the pictures.
How do you know?Daniel asks from behind me. We’re dark, shadowy, but undeniably there on the phone’s screen.
Know what?I ask, staring into the woods, almost directly into Wyatt’s camera lens, my voice sounding different than the way I hear it, higher in pitch.
Daniel says,That there’s no such thing as ghosts.
I tell him,I just do.
Then what are you looking for, if there’s no such thing as ghosts? Don’t be scared, he says after a second, coming up and wrapping his arms around me from behind. I don’t want to watch Wyatt’s stupid video, knowing what comes next. I try to look away, but he only brings the phone closer, shoving it in my face, saying, “You don’t want to miss this, Reese. This is the best part,” and I think how much I hate him. How much I fucking hate him.
They’re not going to hurt you, Daniel says on screen, his own voice mellow and cool.They’re harmless. They’re just lonely and looking for someone to vibe with, like me.He turns me around. Shame seizes hold of me as I watch Daniel cup my face in his hands, as I watch him kiss me, as—even worse—I see myself kiss back, the wet mouth sounds loud as Wyatt slides the volume higher.
“Can I kiss you now, Reese like the candy?” he mocks, laughing hysterically, and then he makes kissy faces that make me literally want to puke. I feel dirty. Violated. Every special thing about tonight has been destroyed by him.
My mind homes in on only one thing in that moment. I ignore everything else.
I think only about obliterating the smile from his ugly face.
It happens before I know it’s happening. I lunge across the room at him, grabbing him by the shirt, thinking how much I want to hurt him. How much I want him dead.
