“What do you mean?”
“It just makes sense,” he replies cryptically, but I feel like there’s more to his statement.
“Because of my weird ghost story?” He doesn’t answer my question, so it is a yes. “So… are you going to tell me how oldyouare?”
He looks down at the table. “Why does it matter?” His light eyes lift to mine slowly. “You’re eighteen.” Heisflirting with me.
“Not until tomorrow.”
He makes a point of looking around. “Hey, how many hours until midnight?” he calls to a group of people walking on the sidewalk.
A pretty girl in the front rakes her eyes over him while I get a cursory glance. “A little over two hours.”
“Invite him to come with us, it’s obvious he wanted to talk to you,” another girl encourages as she bumps the first girl’s shoulder.
I’m sure he hears her comment, but he ignores it and focuses back on me. “Do you really think two hours matter?”
I shake my head, because they don’t. When he reaches across the table, I slip my hand into his. His fingers are so warm, I find myself squeezing his hand to absorb more of his heat. I’ve been cold for days, and this feels like it could be the first time I can alleviate that.
When he stands, I rise too, our hands still linked. It’s not until we’re walking away that I ask, “Where are we going?”
“I want to hear more of your story,” he says after a short pause.
“I don’t have much more to tell.”
“Oh, I think you do.” His tone is airy.
I look back over my shoulder and see a nasty scowl on the other girl’s face, and I have to bite my lip to keep my smile under wraps. He ignored her for me.
We stop in front of a large, gothic-looking church. It has the kind of grandeur that proves it’s old, with tons of ornate edging and spires shooting into the night sky. He stands in front of the wide steps and turns so he’s facing the row of wooden doors. I glance over at him, wondering what comes next, but he just gazes at the structure as if he’s committing it to memory or looking at an old friend.
“The devil is in the details,” he says, then drops his chin so he can look at me. I’m not sure how to respond to that, or what exactly he’s speaking of, so I don’t say anything at all. After a long pause, his foot shifts, and he tows me over to a fountain in the center of a clearing. The church serves as an eerie backdrop as he perches on the edge, motioning for me to do the same.
“It sounds like yourfriendgot caught up in her own trap,” he says while pulling open the little bag from the coffee shop.
“What do you mean?” I take the white stick he offers, holding a perfectly round, galaxy painted cake pop.
“You said she talked you into playing the game. Was it something she did often?”
Geez, he’s always answering my questions with questions. “It seemed like it. The basement was all…” I wave the cake pop around as I wiggle my hands.
“All what?”
“Different… Well, I think it was different. Truthfully, we never really hung out down there before, but it was all set up with weird fabric on the walls and candles. She called the spirit by name. I don’t think it was the first time she… talked to it.” This is such a bizarre conversation. “You must have been really bored to sit here and indulge me.”
“No, I actually had a pretty busy evening before I found you.”
“What were you doing?” I take a bite of the cake, and a piece of the candy coating breaks off and lands on my lap, so I pop it back in my mouth. When I look over, he’s staring at me, and he doesn’t even try to hide it.
“Eliminating issues.”
“Do you ever answer a question directly?”
“Not if I can help it.” He grins.
I search his face, wondering what the hell I’m doing here. I’m not even sure I could find my car without using my phone GPS. I just went along with him happily.
“I wouldn’t want to bore you with details.”
