Ghosting You

by Alexander C. Eberhart

  Nick responds in turn, his hands trailing down the small of my back and stopping at my hips to steady me.

  Skin on skin is an entirely new experience for me as our bodies fold into one another. Each movement is sparks shooting into the air. I’ll be shocked if we don’t start a fire.

  After a moment, Nick begins to rock his hips underneath me and there’s a new friction that blunts my other senses.

  “Oh, God.” I say against his lips, and he grins this devilish smirk. Wrapping his arms around my back, he rolls me onto my side and our legs tangle in each other. Nick’s kisses migrate down my neck, then to my chest, then along the faint trail of hair that leads to my navel. I jolt as he hits the skin right above my belt.

  “You okay?” he asks, looking up at me with eyes of honey and hair that’s twisted up in my fingers.

  am I okay? I’m not really thinking coherently enough to answer. So, I say what comes to mind.

  “You’re driving me crazy.”

  Nick laughs and I shudder as his hot breath hits my skin. “Is that a good thing?”

  I nod.

  “Do you want to keep going?”

  I nod again. I can’t think of anything else. I need more of Nick.

  My already racing heart skips a beat as his hands drift to my belt and his lips return to my skin. I flinch as his fingers brush against me while he unbuttons my jeans. Then they’re gone, just like the shirt, discarded on the floor. And even though I’ve lost another layer, my body burns with heat as every stroke of Nick’s fingers sets another part ablaze.

  “Kiss me,” I tell him, pulling gently at the curls of his hair. And he obliges, reuniting our lips with a fevered embrace. Nick’s finger traces the inner flank of my thigh, sneaking under the material of my boxers as it goes.

  He pulls away, grinning again, then wraps his hand around me and now my brain is sure to be melting out of my ears. I exhale, my body seizing and jerking as he moves his hand slowly. I close my eyes, embarrassed at my reaction, but not enough to tell him to stop.

  “Wait.” I catch his hand, sheer seconds away from losing control altogether. “Not yet.”

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, with genuine concern twisting his brow.

  “Nothing,” I say and throw my arm around him. “I just don’t want to go yet.”

  He smiles then, and I tell him to sit back against the pillow. He does as he’s told, letting his shirt fall off onto the floor. I position myself between his knees, doing my best not to overthink this. I try to remember all the little things that he’d done for me. I brush up against him as I unbutton the top of his jeans. I kiss the dark trail of hair going down from his navel. I pull them off next, and I trace the inner part of his thigh.

  He reacts much the same as I did, squirming when I finally wrap my shaky hand around him. The warmth is comforting, and the way his body responds to my touch just makes the gnawing want in my stomach grow.

  “Jesus, Tommy.” He grunts as I lean in to kiss him.

  I jolt again as his hand finds me, mimicking the same motion that I make for him. We don’t separate as both of our tempos increase, pushing further and further until, at last, I can’t take any more.

  “Shit, Nick, I-I-“

  The rest of my thought is lost as my body spasms and the warmth centered in a certain place spreads throughout my lower body. My legs go weak and I collapse onto the pillows next to Nick, our chests heaving.

  It takes me a second to realize that my hand is sticky. Guess I wasn’t the only one who lost control.

  We lay there, my head on his shoulder, and his hand over my chest, for what feels like an eternity, our breathing in perfect sync.

  “Here, you can borrow these.”

  I hand Tommy a pair of my boxer-briefs from the drawer. He hands me the cleanup towel and I toss it along with our evidential pairs into the laundry hamper in the corner of the room.

  “Thank you,” he says, then turns away from me to pull them on. He hasn’t said much since… well, yeah, that. Now I’m starting to worry that we may have gone too far.

  “I can take you home, now. If that’s what you want.”

  Tommy sticks a leg through his jeans, then the other. “You said we were going to bake.”

  “Yeah!” I back-peddle. “Of course! I just didn’t know if you’d still…”

  “If I what? Still want to be around you, now that my dick’s not hard?”

  “Well,” I say with a chuckle. “When you put it that way.”

  Tommy fastens his belt and gives me a smile. “I want to go downstairs and bake cookies with you. That’s what I’d like to do.”

  “Cookies it is then.”

  It’s a little after eleven when I set the cookies on the cooling rack.

  Tommy hovers over my shoulder. “Oh my gosh, they look so good.”

  “You’re damn right. This isn’t an episode of Nailed It!. I’m a professional.”

  Tommy takes a seat on the stool at the counter. “Does your mom like to bake? Mine only makes cookies when she has to tell me bad news.”

  “Ma?” I try my best not to laugh. “Not at all. She would rather stick her head in the oven then have to frost a cake.”

  “Where did you learn, then?”

  “My Nana taught me, before she died. She was my dad’s mom. We were really close. We used to visit every Sunday afternoon and I would help her in the kitchen. First it was peeling potatoes and shucking corn, but then she let me start helping with the dessert. I still remember the first thing we made together—her lemon iced pound cake. You’d have thought you died and gone to heaven.”

  Tommy smiles, and I catch myself tearing up a bit.

  I clear my throat, “Anyways, as I got older, she taught me all sorts of recipes from my great grandma’s cookbook. My dad is an only child and has zero interest in anything that isn’t golf or college basketball, so she passed it on to me before she died a couple years back. I’ve baked my way through from start to finish—there were way more Jell-O molds than I care for—and that’s how I got started. I love it.”

  Tommy leans forward, resting his head on top of his folded arms. “I can tell. You’re practically glowing just talking about it. It reminds me how much I miss photography.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever pick it back up?”

  His gaze drops and I prod at the side of a cookie. Still too soft to eat.

  “I’m starting to feel like I might be ready,” he says after a moment and looks back up at me. “Kayla did ask me if I could take some shots at the Fourth of July festival next week. I’ll bring along my camera and see what happens.”

  “Sounds like a good idea. And of course, I’ll be there to serve as your muse, so you should have nothing to worry about.”

  He snorts a laugh and I join in.

  “I appreciate your support.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Not to be rude, or anything, but how long am I going to have to wait before I can have one of these cookies? Literally dying over here.”

  “They should be fine now,” I say, poking another one with my finger. “They’ll just be really gooey.”

  Tommy extends a hand. “Gimme.”

  I grab a spatula and scoop a cookie up, sliding it into Tommy’s hand.

  He takes a messy bite. “Mmm. Oh my god, they’re even better warm.”

  I can’t help but smile, watching him finish the cookie in two more bites. I’m about to hand him a napkin when he starts licking the melted chocolate off his palm.

  “What?” he asks when I start laughing.

  I hand him the napkin. “You’re just too stinking cute. I can’t.”

  “I do what I can.”

  I let out a yawn as Tommy cleans himself up. It’s creeping up on midnight and we both have to be up early. I should probably run him home while I’m still conscious enough to drive.

  Tommy tosses the crumpled napkin into the trash can. “You said your mom wasn’t coming back till tomorrow, right?”

&nbs
p; “Yeah, she said around noon. Why?”

  He fidgets in his seat, twiddling his thumbs. “We both have to be at work tomorrow… so I was thinking I could just crash here. If that’s okay with you.”

  Oh. I hadn’t even thought about that.

  “Yeah, I mean of course. As long as your cool sharing the bed, I’m all for it.”

  Tommy grins at me. “I don’t snore too loud. Don’t worry.”

  I laugh. Snoring is the least of my concerns.

  Nick’s bedroom is pitch black when I wake. He’s curled up beside me, just like we fell asleep, face-to-face. I grab for my phone in the dark, reaching its place on the floor without falling out of the bed.

  It’s three in the morning. No wonder it’s so dark.

  And even though it’s early, and I’ve only been asleep a couple of hours, my brain is going a million miles an hour, so going back to sleep seems like a pipe dream.

  Instead, I unlock my phone, quickly turning down the brightness. I glance over at Nick. His steady breathing tells me he’s still in LaLa Land.

  I take a second, memorizing his serene expression in the dim light. The way his long lashes rest on the top of his cheekbone and the cute little snore that escapes his soft, parted lips. I want to bury my face in his chest and drift back off to blissful dreams.

  But now that I’m up, I really need to pee. So, I slink out of bed, creeping as quietly as I can to the bathroom. Once the door is shut, I flip on the light and purple spots explode in my vision. I take a second to blink them away.

  After I’ve done what needed to be done and I’ve dried my hands on the decorative towel, I switch the light back off and wait a few seconds for my eyes to adjust again. I’ve been away from the darkroom too long. It never used to take me this long to get my night vision back.

  And I know it’s not helping, but I pull my phone out of my pocket, lingering in the bathroom door, because I don’t want to bother Nick. I was going to wait till the morning to tell my Stranger about how things ended up—of course omitting a few more intimate details—but since I’m up, I might as well now.

  Me: Hey, Stranger. I think I’m in love. 3:23am

  Another light catches my eye, there by the side of the bed. I lock my phone, rubbing my eyes to try before creeping across the room. The floorboard only squeaks once, but Nick’s breathing doesn’t change, so I think I’m good. I’m about to crawl back into bed when the light goes off again, and I realize it’s Nick’s phone on his bedside table. From here I can see the message icon pop up on the screen.

  Who’s texting at this hour?

  Other than me, that is.

  My nosey nature is truly hereditary, so I quietly blame my ancestors as I circle the bed one more time and tap on the front of Nick’s phone.

  Hey, Stranger, I think I’m in love. 3:23am

  My name stares back at me, searing white-hot into my vision like the flash of a camera. Blood rushes to my face, and my breath catches in my chest.

  This can’t be happening. It just doesn’t make sense. I type another message on my phone, sending it without even looking at what I type.

  The phone lights up again, the number two icon popping up beside my name.

  I’m such an idiot. Has he been manipulating me this entire time? I scroll through our messages frantically, searching for some shred of evidence that I missed, something that can explain this horrible coincidence.

  Nick wouldn’t lie to me, would he?

  “Tommy?” Nick’s eyes are half-lidded as he peeks out from under the comforter. “What are you doing?”

  I’m too upset to even begin to try to explain what’s going on in my head right now, so I do the most embarrassing thing possible and start to cry, right here on the goddamn floor.

  Nick sits up, his legs swinging over the edge of the bed before lowering himself down on the floor beside me. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

  I swallow the lump in my throat and ask, “Were you going to tell me?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I snatch his phone from the table and shove it into his chest. “I trusted you, Nick. More than anyone, I trusted you.” The heat from my face has dropped into my chest now, ragging like a fire. “And you led me right where you wanted me, right into your bed.”

  “Now hang on a second, Tommy. I can explain—”

  “Is that all this is to you? I share my darkest, most intimate details and you twist them and make me feel these things for you.”

  “Tommy, please, just let me tell you—”

  “Don’t. Just, don’t talk to me.” I shake his grasping hands and clamber to my feet. I switch on the bedside lamp, blinking away more spots and storm around the room, collecting my things.

  “Tommy, please. Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night.”

  I pull on my jeans, my cheeks burning even hotter as I realize I’m still wearing his boxers. “I’m going home, Nick.”

  “At least let me drive you.”

  And I want to argue, but it’s a three mile walk back home and the last thing I want is an hour and a half walk-of-shame. So, I bury a little bit of my anger, wipe my face and calmly agree, “Fine. But if you say one more word, I’m gonna tuck and roll. Got it?”

  He holds up his hands and gives me a nod.

  I snatch the keys from his hand.

  “And I’m driving.”

  Nick doesn’t say a word on the way back to my apartment. He only stares out the window, his arms tucked tightly across his chest.

  I’m honestly still trying to digest everything that’s happened in the last half hour. My universe has gone from a bright nebula to the soul-crushing darkness of a black hole. And the worst part of it all—I said that I loved him! This is just cosmic karma in its finest form.

  I deserve this. I don’t know why I would think it would end any differently. The longer I have to brew over it, the clearer everything becomes.

  This is the universe getting even. I stole Chase from it, and now it’s come to even the score.

  I pull into the parking lot and stop under a pool of lamplight.

  “I’m sorry, Tommy.” Nick says, as I unfasten my belt. “I really was going to tell you.”

  I hesitate, risking a glance over to this boy that moments ago I loved. His eyes are puffy, a mirrored image of mine, I’m sure.

  And my tongue is suddenly caught on all the words that I want to say. But instead of untangling them, I reach for the door.

  Nick catches my arm, his grip firm but gentle.

  “I want to talk about this. Please. Can we talk tomorrow?”

  Fresh tears sting at the sides of my eyes as I pull myself from his touch. I don’t answer him. Only linger for a moment longer, then turn and sprint up the stairs.

  Once I’m inside, the tears pour freely.

  “Good Morning Ni—wow, you look like hell.”

  “Is Tommy here?” I ask Mel, scanning the rest of Claudine’s dining room.

  She keeps counting bills from the register. “Not yet, no. He texted me he was running late a few minutes ago. You know our Tom-Tom, he was probably out partying.” Mel laughs at her own joke, but I’m too exhausted to find humor in anything.

  I didn’t go back to sleep, after Tommy got home. I just sat in the parking lot, thinking about how I’ve fucked up. It must have looked so bad to him. Especially after last night. I should have come clean, but I just didn’t know how. Then the sun was coming up, and I had to book it back to the cabin to get ready for work. I didn’t even have time to call Reese about any of this.

  If I look half as horrible as I feel, then Mel is sure to keep me away from customers as much as possible.

  “Are you okay, Nick?” Mel asks, pausing her count. She points at her own cheek. “You got a little something.”

  I swipe the back of my hand in the same spot and pull away a glistening streak. I wipe it away just as quickly, clearing my throat as I put my apron.

  “Yeah. Everything is peachy.”
/>   She doesn’t seem convinced but starts counting under her breath again. Leave it to Mel to pick the one day I want her to ignore me to start paying attention. Jesus, what am I doing here?

  The door opens and my heart catapults itself out of my chest and spatters the wall. But it’s just Rod with another loud Hawaiian shirt. Wow, that was redundant.

  “Morning,” he calls, ducking under the counter and lurking over Mel’s shoulder. “Good morning to you, especially.”

  Mel grins and hip checks him. “Get to work, grandpa.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He tips his hat and I can feel the vomit rising in my throat.

  “You sure you’re doing okay, Nick?”

  Mel is looking at me again, and I’m just dying to say, “No! I’m fucking stupid and I fucked up the only thing that brought me any happiness this summer and also I don’t like the fact that you came onto me as a boss and now I’m supposed to act like everything is hunky dory!”

  But that’s a lot of effort, so I just huff another, ‘yes’ and start pulling chairs off tables. Maybe Tommy won’t come in today. Maybe he’ll say he’s sick, or that he got hit by a bus, or that I’m the literal scum of the earth and he never wants to see me again.

  All viable options.

  The bells over the door jingle. I don’t look up. If I don’t look up, then I can’t see that he’s here. Then I won’t have to face him and answer his likely dozens of questions about the thing that is currently making me hate myself more than I ever have before.

  Hey, maybe Mel will let me dress up as Lottie again!

  Wow, shit has gone south.

  “Hello, Melody.”

  The new voice is not Tommy’s, which is a bit jarring, I’m not going to lie. I spin to see the cherry-red hair and a bejeweled cane refracting light like a disco ball.

  “Claudine?” Mel’s posture has gone from schlump to debutant in a split second. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”