“If catching pneumonia is what it takes to get the pretty new girl to check me out, then it’s a price I’m willing to pay.”
A blush blooms on my cheeks, mortifying and impossible to control, but underneath it, there’s a giddy kind of happinessI don’t know what to do with. Pretty. When’s the last time someone called me that?
Last night. That ghost called me pretty last night, right before he stuck his fingers in me.
The ghost obviously didn’t call me pretty as a genuine compliment. Griffin probably doesn’t mean it as a genuine compliment, either, given how easily he offered it up. I’d bet he says that to everyone, but part of me wants to hold on to the feeling it gives me a little longer.
When did I get so starved for attention that a simple compliment even an old lady at a grocery store could have given me makes me blush?
I glance over my shoulder at Bob to make sure he’s still there, as he’s been suspiciously quiet. He’s sitting at the top of the stairs, shivering—not in the way he does when he’s cold, but in the way he does when he’s overwhelmed by emotion.
“Do you find that these lines work for you?” I ask. “I mean, historically?”
“God blessed me with an excellent sense of humor.” He’s trying to look serious, but his eyes are dancing. “Among other things.”
I roll my eyes. “Usually when guys feel the need to brag about their measurements”—I scrunch up my face and make a small pinch with my fingers—“there’s not much worth measuring.”
He shakes his head. “You can’t even insult me without smiling.”
“I’m not smiling.”
“You’re fighting a smile right now.”
“Am not,” I insist, even though I can feel the corners of my mouth twitching up.
Griffin points at my face, triumphant. “I win.”
You know what? If his game was to get me to smile, he did win, because now I’m grinning ear-to-ear. Maybe I lost whatevergame we were playing, but honestly, it doesn’t feel like losing. It feels nice to just stand here in a hallway talking to someone who isn’t looking at me like I’m a burden or a problem to solve or that girl from the news. I’m just a person. Someone worth joking around with.
“Okay, well, I’m going to feed my dog,” I say, trying to pull myself back before I get too comfortable with this feeling. “You should go… put on pants.”
“Not a shirt?”
“Anda shirt.”
“If you insist.”
Okay. Time to go. I only make it a couple of steps before his voice stops me.
“You should come to dinner tonight,” Griffin says. “I’m cooking.”
I turn around, hugging myself. “You cook?”
“Don’t look so surprised.” His grin is infectious, and the kind of smile that makes my entire body want to smile back. “Not to brag, but I make a mean chicken parm. People have wept after tasting it. I’m pretty sure I could open a restaurant with that recipe alone.”
“Your humility is inspirational.”
“Come on, what do you say? Meet the others without having to spy on them from the stairs.”
I nod, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “Okay.”
“Seven o’clock.” He does a finger gun at me. “Don’t be late, or Benji will eat all the garlic bread.”
He goes through the door right next to mine, and the click of the latch echoes in the empty hallway.
CHAPTER 9
I’m lying on the bed with Bob curled against my thigh, running my fingers through his wiry fur, when a knock on the door makes me jump. Bob’s head snaps up. His body goes rigid as he decides whether to bark.
