I force myself to calm down. She’s right, it didn’t hurt. It felt foreign but not bad at all. I let myself down on the bed again, scooting back to her side.
Holding out my finger to her cheek, I ask, “Can I…” She nods, and I put my fingertip on her birthmark, feeling how the tingles spread through my forefinger, soft like a caress. She takes a deepbreath, but her eyes are on me when I get my gaze back up to hers. “Do you feel that?”
“I do,” she breathes out, sounding as overwhelmed as I am. I let my finger trail over her cheek until I’m cupping her with my palm, and she closes her eyes, leaning into the touch. My whole hand is tingling with the butterflies that just took flight in my chest.
I caress her cheek with my thumb, and her eyes open slowly, finding mine again. My gaze flicks between them, and she lets out a soft gasp when I shift a little closer, letting my thumb run over her bottom lip that stayed slightly open.
“Still feeling good?” I ask, my voice husky, completely transfixed by the fact that I can touch her, and she can feel me, just as I can feel her, even if it’s not in the traditional way.
She nods but pulls away so we’re not touching anymore. Her breath is coming in short pants, and I can practically see her mind reeling again, spiraling even. Gone is the peaceful expression she just had.
I need to fix that.
This is something amazing. Not a reason to panic. I want to continue this for the rest of my existence. What I don’t want is her pulling away because she’s scared.
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask, grinning at her.
“What?” she asks innocently, her eyebrows rising slightly.
“Could you hold this for me?” I offer her my hand, fingers spread. A small laugh escapes her, and she gives me an exasperated look, but she brings her hand into mine, threading our fingers. The tingles spread from my palm nearly halfway up my forearm, and I smile. “This feels amazing.”
“It does,” she whispers, her gaze fixed on our hands. Just as I’m contemplating if it would be too bold to reach my other hand out to cup her cheek again, I feel the pull.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, clamping my eyes shut, trying hard to resist, but when I’m pulled away, I can’t do shit about it. When I open my eyes, I look into her sad ones.
“Bye, Casper,” she whispers.
“Bye, Boo,” I whisper back, just before I’m gone.
THIRTY
Tim’s birthdayparty is in full swing.
The low hum of laughter and chatter fills the air as I sit at the table with Tally, Mac, Tim, and the two guys from his crew, Steven and Adam.
Yesterday and today went the same as the day before. We drove to work in North’s BMW without him saying a word to me, in stark contrast to Nash, who talked my ear off, flirted shamelessly, and even made me laugh. He’s wearing me down, even though I’m still annoyed at his comment about taking a second spin on the ride.
I kept my head down, working on the boat that seems to have become my worst enemy, and after a shift in the restaurant yesterday, I retreated to my guestroom and closed the door. Saylor didn’t show up until just a few hours ago, so I spent the evening yesterday reading a book to occupy my thoughts.
It was a well-needed break.
I have thought about the tingling feeling between us way too much. I have no idea how this is possible. But, like I told Saylor, it has been years since I touched a ghost, so it could be a feeling I would get from any of them, although I doubt it.
He’s special.
And he’s standing right next to our table, beside me.
Tally and I decorated the restaurant with balloons and a “Happy Birthday” garland on the wall. On every table, there are a few bottles of alcohol, and there is a big cooler with beers and soda right next to the kitchen. In the kitchen, there are plates upon plates with finger foods Mac, Tally, and I made.
It’s casual and fun, and I’m having a great time. The loudspeakers, which normally just provide background music, are now blasting, and some guys and girls are dancing where we pulled away tables to create a makeshift dance floor.
There are a lot of people here. It seems like the whole town made it to celebrate with Tim. I know a few of my coworkers hanging around, but none of the girls. They are all dressed as if we were going to a club. I wanted to wear my usual jeans and hoodie, but Tally said gatherings like this are the equivalent of going out in a city, so everyone would be dressed nicely. She lent me tight jeans and a tight, black, long-sleeved crop top that shows some cleavage and leaves a sliver of my stomach bare. It’s not my style, as I’m usually more into casual stuff, but I like how it looks on me.
“Come on, baby, just a glass. I’m turning thirty only once,” Tim pleads with Tally, grabbing my attention back at the table.
“You know the rules, babe. As long as I can’t drink, you can’t either. You got me into this mess, so you’re going to sit in it with me.” She smiles, biting down on a mozzarella stick.
“You’re brutal,” I tease, laughing as Mac pours him and me another tequila shot. It’s my fourth one tonight, and I can already feel it going to my head while Mac looks like he’s been drinking water.
