The New Paranormal

by Jackson Tyler

  “Maybe not you.” My voice was thick with fear. “You’re white.”

  Elliot’s face dropped “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

  “I see you!” The voice was closer. Gruff and malicious. “Get the hell off my land, freaks!”

  I hastily turned off my flashlight. It was giving us away. “We need to get out of here.” Panic threatened to consume me, but I fought to keep a clear head. I didn’t want to see how dangerous this farmer could be or how racist he was. I wished we could go faster, but I was supporting Elliot, and he was stumbling as fast as he could.

  It wouldn’t be safe to take the gate back out of the property, so we had to climb the barbed wire fence to get away. Good thing I did yoga — it gave me excellent balance — but things were made more difficult by having to hoist Elliot up with me. We had to be quick. We were visible here. Chances were, the farmer was only trying to scare us off, but accidents happened.

  My cargo pants snagged at the top of the fence. Luckily, I dressed for practicality, not aesthetic. I unzipped the bottom half of my pants, freeing my bare legs, and I dropped to my feet on the other side of the fence. The impact shocked my knees. I held Elliot by the waist as he clambered down awkwardly after me.

  “I can’t believe you actually found a use for those horrific zip-off pants,” he said, carefully stepping down with his good foot.

  I stared at him as I supported his weight with one arm. “Do you think this is the time to criticize my fashion choices?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m very grateful for your ugly pants.”

  Once we were on the gravel road, we were no longer on the farmer’s property, but I wanted to make a fast getaway. I didn’t want the farmer to get Elliot’s number plate.

  “Roman, I’m sorry,” he gasped as we hurried down the road. “We shouldn’t have trespassed. I-”

  “I know.” I would forgive him. “You didn’t think.”

  “I-”

  “We can talk about it when we’re safe.”

  My breath didn’t come back until we were inside the jeep. It was a safe, dry cocoon. I took the wheel so that Elliot could rest his ankle.

  “Put your foot on the dashboard,” I instructed him. “You need to keep it elevated.”

  “Okay, doc.”

  Once Elliot was in place, I sped away as fast as I could. Within reason. I couldn’t be too reckless while the roads were slippery.

  My fear finally ebbed as I eased the jeep onto a freeway. Now that I was relatively sure I wouldn’t die tonight, my mind strayed to its new favorite topic: Isaac. If I had gotten hurt like Elliot, who would look after him? I couldn’t leave him unprotected in the Cressley.

  I was breathing properly now, but all my muscles trembled at the thought of not being there to protect Isaac. What would I do without an excuse to see him every day? Elliot was talking to me, but I couldn’t focus on a word he said. I was disconnected from reality. Only the thought of having Isaac in my arms again made me feel human. I was consumed by the memory of his incense-tinged skin and the brush of his silky hair.

  I forced a deep breath. So I had a crush. So what? I needed to get Elliot and his ankle to the emergency room before I could daydream about Isaac.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Isaac

  Roman was investigating aliens with Elliot, Hannibal was probably hiding under a chair or behind a stack of books at Elliot’s house, and I was alone in room 1405.

  I used to spend most of my time wishing that I was someone else. The older I got, the more infrequently I made that wish. But now, I desperately wanted to be Elliot. I wanted my cat back, and my sexy ghost hunter.

  I found myself compulsively checking my phone, hoping Roman had messaged me. He should have been due back soon. What was holding him up?

  The longer he was gone, the more I thought about him and Elliot. Together. Naked. And not in a way that turned me on.

  If I were a character in a children’s cartoon, I would have been glowing green. I knew that Roman and Elliot used to hook up. Why wouldn’t they be doing it again right now? There was nothing stopping them. Roman probably needed the stress relief after all that time stuck with me.

  Our relationship wasn’t real. We didn’t even like each other that much. I had no excuse to be jealous.

  I reached out for my phone. I was in the middle of trying to resist the urge to pick it up again when it vibrated.

  My heart swooped.

  I won’t be back until late. Taking Elliot to ER.

  Panic hit me like a blow to the chest. Roman seemed so unbreakable. What happened on his alien hunt that had them going to the hospital? What’s up? I texted back as quickly as my fingers could move. Are you ok???

  I felt even more alone and much smaller than usual, while I waited for Roman’s response Surely he was okay, or he would have said something. He’d only mentioned Elliot.

  Guilt seeped through my bones. Here I was, getting jealous of Elliot, a guy who needed emergency medical treatment.

  It felt like hours passed before I got a response to my message. I’m fine. Elliot broke his ankle. I’ll see you when we’re done here.

  The text was short and sharp. It stung more than it should have. Roman was stressed. His best friend and sometimes-squeeze was hurt. He didn’t have the time to message me. There was no reason to take that personally.

  I busied myself making myself a cup of coffee. It was only nine, too early to sleep, and besides, it felt wrong to sleep in this room without someone watching over me. I jumped every time the walls creaked. And they creaked a lot.

  While I waited for the kettle to boil, I blasted some Britney Spears to lift my mood. This was a hotel room, not a supervillain’s lair. I was in no danger, with or without Roman. I half-heartedly lip-synced along, but even Britney couldn’t take the edge off tonight.

  I was miserable, jealous, and creeped out. I had gotten into the habit of teasing Roman when he flinched at every thud and scratch in the walls. Without him here, those sounds made my skin crawl. It was less enjoyable to make fun of myself.

  I was hovering the hot kettle over my mug, ready to pour, when the microwave screamed a long, loud beep.

  I startled. Scalding hot water splashed across the countertop. A few sharp droplets landed on my bare arm. I hissed through my teeth. That hurt.

  What the hell was going on? I hadn’t put anything in the microwave. I stared at it, and it beeped at me again. The door clicked open and slowly fell ajar. There was nothing inside except splatters of old food on a glass plate.

  My skin wasn’t merely crawling. It felt as though ice cubes were dripping down my spine. Since when had I been so afraid of malfunctioning electronics?

  I was a big boy. I didn’t need a nightlight or a knight in shining armor to keep away the monsters in my closet.

  I shut the microwave door. “Don’t do that again,” I told the empty room.

  I wondered if I should tell Roman what was going on, but he was busy. Elliot was his priority right now.

  After making my coffee, I turned off the music. Cheesy 90s pop wasn’t making me any less edgy. Nothing could ease my nerves right now.

  Roman could.

  Roman wasn’t an option.

  Footsteps from the room above me groaned through my ceiling, and something rattled in the room underneath. Rain beat against my window. Tonight was a night for huddling under the covers, preferably with company.

  I took a sip of my coffee and steeled myself. There would be no huddling for Isaac Baker tonight. Not until I knew for sure that Roman and Elliot were okay.

  I wanted to turn back time and become the man I had been before I met Roman, the man who wasn’t afraid of groaning walls or heavy rain. The rain was impossibly heavy. It was so loud it sounded like it was coming from inside… From the bathroom.

  Shit. The plumbing.

  I ran to the bathroom.

  The shower streamed into an already-large puddle of water on the floor. It had turned itself on, full-blast, and
the bathroom was flooding fast.

  I ran over to turn the tap off. A genius I was not, I realized, as water soaked my socks and crept between my toes. I shuddered. There was nothing more uncomfortable than a damp sock. It felt like my foot had been swallowed by an eel.

  I scrabbled at the faucet, but no matter how much I grappled with it, the water wouldn’t stop flowing. It gushed all over my shirt, down my pants, through my hair, and over my face without slowing down. The tap came off in my hand.

  Well, shit.

  I stood back, breathing heavily from exertion. There was nothing else I could do. I picked up my phone. If I wanted a liveable room, I had to call someone practical for help. Someone who wasn’t busy with Elliot.

  ***

  “What’s the problem?” Lance huffed. He raised his needly eyebrows at me. Ben must have told him about my ‘relationship’ with Roman by now. Any rapport we had was gone.

  “Follow me.” I led him through my room and into the bathroom. “You’ll see.”

  If you switched Lance’s tool belt for a fanny pack and his jeans for cargo pants, he would have been dressed almost exactly like Roman. Roman wore it better, fanny pack and all.

  The water had managed to creep under the bathroom door, and it was starting to soak the carpet in the main area.

  “Yep, I see,” said Lance, but he looked confused.

  “Do you know what’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s fucked. Pardon my French.” Lance must have been in his late twenties or early thirties at most, but he talked like a weathered old tradesman.

  “Do you think you can fix it?”

  Lance set his jaw. “That’s my job.” He took off his tool belt and unfurled it next to the sink. “Why do you stay here? Your bathroom leaks, the rooms are cold, and there’s a nutter running around telling everyone the place is haunted.” He chuckled.

  “Roman’s not a nutter,” I said sharply.

  Lance sneered. “So Ben wasn’t messing with me. You’re actually gay for that freak.”

  I rolled my eyes. I was tired and in a bad mood to begin with. I wanted Lance to fix my shower. I wasn’t here to defend my sexuality or explain that I’d been bi long before I met Roman Bula.

  Before I could come up with a snide retort to shut Lance up, the front door burst open. And who should come running in?

  Well, I had two friends in Seattle, and Olivia wouldn’t step foot in this place.

  “Isaac?” came Roman’s voice.

  Lance raised his eyebrows. “You’re kidding me.”

  “We’re in the bathroom!” I yelled out to Roman.

  Roman stopped short when he saw Lance. “Oh. Hello, Lance.”

  “Sup, Roman,” sneered Lance.

  I widened my eyes apologetically at Roman. “I had plumbing problems.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be fired?” Lance said. “You’re not supposed to be at the Cressley, bothering guests and-”

  “He’s not bothering me. I’m gay for him, remember?” I darted over to Roman and wrapped my arms around his waist. Roman was tense. It was an automatic response to squeeze him tighter. I hoped I wasn’t making him uncomfortable, but what else could I do? This was the point of our ruse.

  When I’d been with Sasha, she bent the truth about what I did for a job and told people I was a freelancer. When I’d gotten fed-up of lying and told her friends the truth, her polite mask had slipped, and her face contorted in horrified humiliation.

  That’s what Lance’s face was doing right now. “I don’t buy this, man. Are you covering for him? Has he got you believing his ghost bullshit?” Either Lance was more intuitive than I expected, or he didn’t want to believe his new ‘friend’ could be queer.

  I wished Roman would make a movement toward me, do anything other than stand like a statue. He was a terrible actor. All he had to do was pretend he liked me; was that so hard?

  “I’m a guest,” I said. “Aren’t you supposed to respect me?”

  “I don’t have to respect him.” Lance jabbed a finger at Roman. “Ben said he’d get a restraining order if he had to”

  “No need for a restraining order. I’m smitten with this guy.” I nuzzled into Roman. I could tell myself I was pretending to savor the touch of his firm chest against my cheek, but the truth was… How could I not savor this? “It has nothing to do with ghosts.”

  Lance raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

  “Have you looked at Roman’s body?” I said. My new tactic: gross Lance out so he stopped asking questions. I gripped one of Roman’s firm biceps, and my legs went wobbly. “Why would I not want that? Ghosts or no ghosts.”

  “Ew,” said Lance. His pointed face was skeptical.

  Roman was a bad liar, but he needed to come through if he wanted to beat Lance’s suspicions. If Lance managed to convince Ben that Roman and I weren’t dating, and Roman was simply bothering me about ghosts, we might lose our chance to investigate the Cressley together. I couldn’t handle that. Without this hotel, we had no reason to see each other. I jabbed my elbow into his side to prompt him to talk.

  “I love Isaac,” Roman said gruffly.

  He loved me? That was taking our act too far. I hated like the way my heart pounded when his words spilled out. I knew it wasn’t true — we hadn’t known each other long enough to be in love — but it was nice to hear. It had been a long time since someone told me they loved me, even as a lie.

  Then Roman bent his head, and before I knew what he was doing, his lips were on mine. It was a staged kiss, but it was transcendent. His lips were as firm as I had imagined. My tongue slipped into his mouth, and my whole body vibrated as his tongue brushed over mine, velvety and wet. I forgot Lance was there as I dissolved into the sensation. This isn’t real, I told myself. This isn’t real.

  But Roman mouth was real, his body was real, his arms around me were real, and the arousal surging through my body was definitely real.

  “Okay, stop,” said Lance. I couldn’t bring myself to pull away, but Roman did as he was told. We pulled apart.

  “Do you believe us now?” I taunted.

  Lance’s face looked like he’d been served a platter of dog shit. “You don’t need to rub it in my face.”

  “You wanted proof-” Roman started.

  “Whatever. I have to get this plumbing fixed. Don’t, like, fuck until I’ve left.”

  “We’ll try to keep it in our pants,” I said with a smirk.

  We shut Lance in the bathroom and stayed in the main room. Usually, when we were alone, Roman paced broodily with his EVP recorder or his EMF reader or sat like a statue on the chair next to my bed, studiously taking notes or reading while I tried to make him laugh.

  But with Lance right next door, our usual routine wouldn’t work. My heart somersaulted. I tried not to get too excited about our make-believe. But as long as Lance was here, I was more than a lonely hotel guest, and Roman was more than a hot ghost hunter who cared less about the man who lived in room 1405 than the fourteenth floor itself. We were boyfriends for an hour or so.

  I leaped onto my bed and rolled onto my back. I patted covers next to me. “C’mere, lover boy.”

  “Isaac.” Roman shook his head as he said my name, but he was smiling.

  “We’re on a date, remember?”

  Roman cut a glance to the bathroom door. “I remember.”

  He climbed onto the bed somewhat stiffly and without much grace at all.

  “That looks awkward for you,” I said. “How do you usually get into bed?”

  “Alone.”

  I found it hard to imagine Roman in bed at all. Sometimes I felt like he was a robot, more likely to power off and plug into a charger overnight than to sleep like the rest of us.

  “Well, you’re not alone now,” I said. “Want to watch a movie with me?” I gestured to the small flatscreen opposite the bed.

  “I suppose that’s a date thing to do,” said Roman.

  “This place has pay per view, right?”


  He nodded, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “What actually happened in there?”

  “It flooded.”

  “Did you see anything before it flooded?”

  “This is supposed to be a date,” I said more harshly than I intended. “No work talk.”

  Roman’s eyes widened into that irresistible imploring gaze of his. “I need to know how safe you are.”

  I sighed and filled him in on exactly what happened while he was with Elliot. His expression darkened. “This is worrying, Isaac.”

  “It’s the plumbing,” I said, trying to sound more certain than I felt. Sure, last time Lance had been here, he hadn’t found anything wrong with the pipes, but the last time he’d been here, the shower hadn’t been on full blast of its own accord.

  “On this floor, it’s never the plumbing. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this happened the one night I wasn’t here.”

  How did he say things like that so darkly and with such a straight face?

  “What do you think I should do?”

  “You should move in with Elliot. Stay safe with your cat.”

  “If I move out of here, how will you come and investigate? You’ve lost your job. But as long we keep this up…” I gestured between us and raised my eyebrows suggestively.

  “I can’t put you in danger for my convenience.”

  “But I’m willing to stay here. I want to stay here. And what about the other guests? Aren’t you trying to save lives?”

  There was a long silence as Roman considered that. “Okay,” he said. “But if you get physically attacked even once, even if you don’t get hurt, you have to leave.”

  “Deal. Now can we watch a movie?”

  “Have you noticed much weird static on the TV?”

  “Hey, I told you before: no business talk. This is a date.”

  “But it isn’t a real date.” He frowned.

  That stung. “It’s a real date until Lance leaves.”

  “Okay,” said Roman. And the bastard looped his arm over my shoulder. My breath quickened. His touch was pure electricity on my skin. I was only wearing a tank top, so most of my arms and shoulders were exposed. How did Roman run so hot? He was like a space heater. I fought the urge to curl into him. Sitting here with his arm around me was enough. I was lucky to get this much, with Lance not even in the same room as us.