Page 37 of How to Survive Your Own Death

“Why are you smiling?” Bazel asked.

“I’m not smiling.” Geri turned her phone face down to hide the screen.

“Deceitfulness is an unattractive quality.”

Geri wished someone could tell her why that made her blush because this was not a crush. People generally wanted to be considered attractive, right? Not that she wanted him to consider her pretty. She didn’t. He was death—the personification of death—and uptight. She was too old for crushes and he didn’t even have a face.

“What do you know? You’re a skeleton,” she muttered.

Bazel remained motionless, despite his black shroud moving gently in an ethereal wind.

“It was my ex.”

The shroud whipped back in a gale force wind. The light dimmed and his shadow grew long as he loomed over her on the sofa. Fiddlesticks hissed and dashed away. Bones raised her head off the floor and thumped her tail.

“The one who killed you! I forbid it. Cease contact at once.” His voice rumbled and echoed with an outrage that transcended dimensions and hit her right in the chest.

That’s what he was so worked up about?

“Patrick, my ex-husband,” she said, a hand pressed against her chest. Somehow she had leaped to her feet. She didn’t remember doing that. “I hooked him up with a wedding gig next month. I wouldn’t talk with Jaxon if you paid me.”

Bazel took a step back. The gale disappeared. Light returned to normal. “My apologies. That man hurt you and I believe it would be unwise for you to continue your association with him.”

“Yeah, well, I agree. Like I said, I’m finished with Jaxon.”

“Good,” he said in a sulky tone.

“But it’s none of your business who I text and you scared the cat,” Geri said, unimpressed with his temper tantrum. “It took her days to be chill enough to sit in the same room as you.”

“Ply her with treats.”

“I will not bribe my cat because you’re… you’re jealous.”

His eyes went wide as if surprised, which was impossible because he didn’t have eyes. Just black holes in a skeleton face. Yet she could tell. Somehow.

“I am not jealous.”

She had flung the word out, knowing it was ridiculous, but now that she had said it, it rang true. Death was jealous. Of her exes.

And she liked it.

Why did she like it? Bazel forced himself into her life, literally haunting her. He had all the red flags. Dictatorial. Withheld information. Jealous.

Undead.

And apparently going to stick around until she completed an arbitrary amount of reaps to repay her debt. He may have shared a bit of vulnerability with her but he was not crush material.

Silence fell between them, the air thick with unspoken confessions. His jealousy. Her growing feelings. All of it unwise with nowhere to go. He was incorporeal. Immortal, or close to it. They couldn’t touch or kiss. While Geri knew that plenty of people had romantic relationships without sex, that didn’t interest her. Sex was important to her, and she enjoyed it.

Could she skip it for the right person? For Bazel?

Then again, maybe they’d just have to get creative. There were toys. She certainly wouldn’t mind being told how to use those toys on herself. Still, she enjoyed touch. Being touched. When she stuck her ice-coated finger in his mouth, she felt something.

She could work with something.

“You will need to rewind your movie,” he said, breaking the silence. He took a step forward and placed a skeletal finger under her chin. His touch was cold and almost insubstantial, but it was a touch.

Geri shook her head and pushed him away. This situation was heading into dangerous territory. She needed a distraction. Now.