Halloween Boo

by Spade, Sarah

“Thanks.”

  “I know your voice. How do I know your voice?”

  Her deadly whisper causes shivers up and down my spine. Dani is a head shorter than me, fifty pounds lighter, and up until five minutes ago, I was a full-fledged ghost. She witnessed me passing through her glass door.

  Then why am I the one who’s terrified now?

  “Umm…”

  She screws up her face, as if trying hard to place the sound of my voice. It probably doesn’t help that I said the same exact thing now that I pleaded her to do last night. If the memory of what happened in her bedroom is seared as vividly in her mind as it is mine, it won’t take her long to remember.

  I know the instant it does.

  Her hands fold into fists. “It’s you.”

  “Dani, I—”

  “Don’t deny it. You were there last night. You were there last night while I... and I never saw you.”

  I can’t deny it. I wouldn’t if I could.

  Instead, I say, “You were right before. I am a ghost.”

  Dani

  He’s… he’s a ghost.

  My second thought? I let a ghost go down on me.

  My third?

  “What kind a perv ghost takes advantage of the women living in his haunted house?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me!” Totally ignoring the fact that I was into everything he did to me when I thought it was just me fantasizing an imaginary lover, I stamp my foot and glare up at him. He’s gorgeous, okay, but that won’t save him. “Is that how you get your kicks? Seducing lonely women?”

  He looks offended. “Dani, you’ve got the wrong idea. I… I wasn’t trying to seduce you.”

  “You might not have been trying, but you damn well did.”

  I know this isn’t the right time to have this argument. First of all, he’s a ghost who isn’t a ghost anymore all of a sudden. He’s also a ghost who believes he lives here with me. And, well, he’s also a ghost who gave me oral last night.

  And I let him.

  “I didn’t mean for any of that to happen, but I won’t say that I didn’t want it to. I only wanted to alert you to your melting ice cream. Then, when I saw what you were doing—I couldn’t help myself. You were too beautiful. I wanted to make you feel good.”

  This is such a bizarre conversation. I should be kicking him out of my place, maybe running to get myself committed, not talking about my night-time fingering and the part he had to play in it.

  I can’t help it, though. Even if he just appeared, I kind of feel like I know him already. And the Casper I knew is nothing like the flippin’ hunk standing in front of me.

  This has to be Casper, though. The safe feeling I got from my ghost is here in this room right now and it’s coming from him. He knows my name. He knows about the ice cream.

  He knows about what I did under my blanket, and how he offered to help.

  How he did help.

  This handsome guy is my Casper and that realization makes me feel vulnerable. Vulnerable and a little testy.

  Hands on my hips, I raise my eyebrows over at him. “How many other women bought that line?”

  “None.”

  “And you think I’m naive enough to? Gee, Casper. Thanks.”

  He shakes his head. “You misunderstand me.”

  “Oh, no. I think I’m understanding you just fine.”

  “There hasn’t been any other women.”

  Wait.

  What?

  I squint my eyes, getting him entirely in focus. Now that he’s inside my—well, I guess, our—apartment, he’s filled out some. I can’t see through him at all any more. But what I do see? He’s absolutely yummy for a formerly dead guy.

  Yeah, right. Like I believe that there hasn’t been any other women.

  “You don’t have to give me that baloney. You already saw me naked.”

  “It’s not baloney, Dani,” he insists. “You’re the only one I’ve every appeared for—the only one I ever wanted to do that to.” His dark eyes gleam as he takes a step toward me. “I love you.”

  * * *

  Okay. We’ve gotta back up a little.

  Somewhere, some way, I lost control of this conversation. All I wanted to do was figure out where I knew that voice from. How did that escalate to me actually letting him into my apartment?

  How did that lead to him telling him he loves me?

  Pushing past that totally unexpected admission, I shake my head. “Okay. Okay. Say I believe this. Say I accept that you’re the Casper who’s been haunting my place. We’ve gotta start at the beginning. All right?”

  “Whatever you want, Dani.”

  I want him to stop using my name. Every time he does, I get a tingle in a very inappropriate place.

  Instead, I gesture at my couch. The indication is clear. He needs to sit.

  He does. I stay standing, feeling a little more in control.

  “First: who are you?”

  “My name is Zackary.”

  “No last name?”

  His face shadows over. “Not that I can remember.”

  Okay then. “How long have you been here? In this apartment, I mean.”

  “I don’t know. A while. I was here way before you moved in.”

  “When did you die?

  He shifts in his seat. My questions are obviously making him uncomfortable, just like his lack of answers are bothering me. I’m not surprised when he says, “I don’t know.

  No name. No time frame. There’s no way for me to look him up, or discover if he’s telling the truth. One thing for sure: he’s definitely a ghost. Or he was. I’m kind of hazy on that point.

  But if he was a ghost, that means he died.

  There’s probably some kind of protocol when it comes down to interrogating a phantom on Halloween. I’m willing to bet that asking how they became a ghost in the first place is against some kind of etiquette.

  That doesn’t stop me.

  “Zackary—”

  “Zack,” he murmurs. “Call me Zack. Please.”

  Sure. “Zack, how did you die?”

  He lowers his gaze, staring at the hands in his lap.

  “I… I don’t know.”

  He looks so lost, so confused that I don’t push it. “You said you live here, too. Can you leave?”

  His whole expression changes in an instant. “It’s Halloween, the one night of the year that I can cross over and be human. All I’ve wanted since you moved in here was to have a moment like this, where we could talk. Are you asking me to go?”

  He’d go if I told him so. I know that as certainly as I do that everything that is happening right now if flippin’ nuts.

  He was a ghost, but now that it’s gonna be Halloween, he isn’t now.

  I should kick him out. This is absolutely crazy. At the same time, though, I have to admit that— once my initial shock wore off—I’m really curious about everything that’s going on.

  I shake my head. “I just wanted to know.”

  “I think I can leave the apartment now, but to answer your question: no. Up until tonight, I couldn’t go.”

  Curiosity turns to surprise to horror in a heartbeat.

  Maybe Casper is a perv ghost after all.

  “So you’re always here? When I’m sleeping? When I shower?” When I’m naked?

  Zack hesitates, then nods.

  I don’t say anything else at first. I’m not even thinking about last night. This is all about the last ten months.

  Because this is Casper, I’m trying really hard to get past the fact that he can go in my bedroom—my bathroom—whenever he wants. It never occurred to me before. What if—does he spy on me?

  He must read how uncomfortable and angry and really, really confused I am because he’s up and pacing all of a sudden, like we’ve traded places. He runs his hands through his thick, shaggy hair, obviously agitated, while a pair of wild, dark brown eyes search for me every time he swings back around.

  “I know what you’re th
inking, Dani, and it’s not like that. I didn’t peek, I swear, I never peeked.”

  Oh, yeah? I quirk an eyebrow. “Really? Then what do you call what happened in my bedroom last night?”

  Twin spots of color rise up on his cheeks. “I’d call it magical, but I know that’s not what you mean.”

  The look he gives me, the heated rasp in his deep tone, it makes me quiver. He called my orgasm magical.

  He’s not wrong.

  I just thought that I was the only one who believed that.

  6

  Zack

  Dani goes quiet. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that she’s given up on her interrogation for a moment.

  Huh. Some interrogation. I could barely answer any of her questions.

  I wish I knew more. I wish I could tell her more.

  I’m so keyed up. I’m not used to all this energy. Pacing helps. I walk the length of her living room, back and forth, waiting to see what her next move is going to be.

  Surprisingly, it’s not my ex-ghost status that seems to bother her. She doesn’t even seem too put out that I really am a ghost, or that some kind of Halloween magic has allowed me to materialize in front of her at last. I was afraid the truth about last night might be the nail in my figurative coffin.

  Nope.

  It’s the idea that I might’ve spend the last ten months peeking. After the lengths I went to to avoid doing so, it doesn’t seem fair that that’s the sticking point.

  I want to explain myself. I can’t find the words, though.

  And that’s when, on another loop, I see it. The upside down glass. She still has it. Without a word, I walk over to it and look at the glass. Underneath it, I see the rose petal I left for her.

  My heart swells. Thank goodness, right now, it’s the only body part to do so. “I’m so glad you kept my gift.”

  Her voice is soft. Quiet. “Your gift?”

  I nod. “You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to get it for you.” It was my first big use of spectral energy. I was tapped out for over a week, but it was worth it the first time I saw the glass protecting it. All these months later, it’s still here.

  And that makes me think that maybe I have a chance.

  I just can’t screw this up again. Not yet. Not when I still have a whole day left to show her how much I care.

  How much I fucking want her.

  I glance over at Dani. She’s watching me with a very curious look. “What?” I ask her. I’m careful to keep my voice light, a smile on my face.

  She thinks I’m Casper. Okay. Friendly ghost it is.

  Dani flushes. “But… but why?”

  “Lots of reasons. I mean, first off, a guy ought to bring flowers to a girl if he wants her to know he’s serious. And, well, I am serious. I wasn’t kidding when I said I love you.”

  She turns away from the intensity of my gaze. As if the broken vase we both forgot about is suddenly the most important thing in the world, she turns instead toward the brush and pan she abandoned on her coffee table.

  I don’t blame her. Dani clearly doesn’t want to hear about my feelings for her. If I was alive, I would respect that—but I’m living on borrowed time. It’s already half past twelve which means I’m already down thirty minutes.

  But how to make her understand, well, all of this? That I was dead, but now I’m not, but I will be again tomorrow?

  She bends over and I get my first big clue that, no matter how it happened—spectral energy, Halloween magic, a fucking birthday wish, I don’t know—I’m really, truly alive at this moment.

  My blood races straight to my groin. My cock twitches and immediately starts to swell. My eyes are glued to Dani’s ass, the lush curves, the taut globes outlined enticingly against her dress. I suddenly can’t get the sight out of my head, or stop wondering how it would cushion her once I impaled her on my cock and let her ride.

  The image has me ready to spill in my pants. There’s already a pretty big tent in front. Dani gets an eyeful of that, she might just start threatening me with the cops again.

  As she straightens and starts to turn, I panic and reach for one of the decorative throw pillows. I manage to cover my crotch in time for her to look back at me.

  Did I think that would hide it?

  The way her eyes dip down, her lips curling as she sees the floral-printed pillow pressed tightly to my aching cock… Dani snorts. I’m not fooling her at all.

  I hold my breath. It still feels really weird, though all of my attention is on my pulsing hard-on and my sudden fear that she’s going to kick me out of the apartment for real.

  Dani shakes her head, that long brown hair swaying with the motion.

  “You know that? I’m too tired for this. I’ve been up all day, working hard. It’s Friday and I want to go to bed. We can figure it out in the morning.”

  We. She said we. I exhale a shaky breath. “Okay,” I agree. “Tomorrow.”

  “Since you’re human now, you need to get some sleep.” All of my high hopes and dirty fantasies die a sudden death when she looks pointedly at her sofa. “You sleep there.”

  It’s not her bed, but I’ll take it.

  * * *

  I don’t sleep, though.

  I can’t. I’m too excited, and since my achingly hard cock agrees with me, it’s almost impossible to sleep. How can I? When I know that the love of my afterlife is sleeping just beyond that obviously locked door?

  One downside to rematerializing: now that it’s officially Halloween, I can’t go ghost. I tried. Nope. Human again. Even if I let my lusts rule me, there’s no way for me to slip past that barrier.

  Dani wants me on her sofa. I just want to watch her sleep, maybe hear her breathe—and, okay, she kinda snores. I want to hear her snore, watch her toss and turn all night. I love her quirks because I love her. And I love her enough to respect her wishes.

  I’m not a complete idiot. I know how close I came to being tossed out on the curb. She didn’t have to let me stay here, and I pride myself on the orgasm I gave her.

  It definitely affected her, which means she might be willing to do it again.

  And I’ll be ready when she is.

  Dani

  I barely sleep a wink. But when I finally drag myself out of my bed and go to confront my new houseguest—and, I don’t know, roommate?—I find that he couldn’t have slept at all.

  The whole place flippin’ sparkles. That’s the only word for it. My glass coffee table gleams. All of the furniture has been polished, leaving a hint of lemon Pledge in the air. I left all of my crap on my couch and that’s gone. I see my purse hanging off the front door knob, the witch’s hat and costume folded neatly on my dinner table.

  Pledge isn’t the only thing I smell. As I follow my grumbling stomach into the kitchen, I find Zack at the stove. He’s got a spatula in one hand, tending to something in the pan. I take another tentative sniff, just in case I’m imagining it.

  Nope. I smell blueberries.

  “Morning, sleepyhead. I’ve been waiting for you to get up.”

  He’s too cheery. I’m immediately suspicious. “Good morning. I see you’re still here.”

  “Yup. And I’m still human, too. For a little bit longer, at least.”

  “You’re in a good mood,” I point out.

  Zack glances over his shoulder. He throws a grin my way and, for a second, I stop breathing. I remember thinking last night that he was good-looking. In the light of day, while he’s cooking in my kitchen, I decide he might be the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in my life.

  Of course. Leave it to me to to be attracted to a ghost.

  “I’m in a great mood,” he tells me, turning back to flip his pancake. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s All Hallow’s Eve. Halloween. I was able to get my body back, if only for just today, and you were kind enough to take a chance on me.”

  That’s a nice way of saying that I could’ve thrown his ass out of the apartment last night and didn’t.

&nbs
p; I’m still not sure why. I mean, yeah, for the last couple of months I’ve gotten used to the idea that my apartment came with a ghost. Some places came with furniture, some appliances, and mine had a spirit attached. Fine. Whatever.

  He wasn’t supposed to show up as a six foot tall, dark-haired, scruffy Adonis of a man who, within minutes of being able to speak to me, tells me that he loves me.

  Because that part? I remember it vividly.

  And, I admit to myself, it’s why I had to take the chance.

  I shake my head. “Forget about it. It’s just one day, right? Then you go back to being Casper?”

  I see Zack’s shoulders tighten as he hunches over my stovetop. “Halloween is the only time a ghost can cross over,” he says, “so yes. When midnight comes, I’ll most likely be gone.”

  Oof.

  The conversation dies a slow death then and there. I don’t know what else to say, and Zack busies himself with his cooking. It’s fascinating how well he navigates my kitchen, as if he knows every inch of it.

  Duh, Dani. Considering he maybe, kind of, sort of lives here too, he probably does.

  Wonderful.

  He reaches into the cabinet above the stove, pulling out another plate. Using the spatula, Zack takes three fluffy pancakes from the stack and slides them onto the plate. A tab of butter on top, followed by so much syrup my pancakes are swimming in it.

  Instead of giving me the plate, he takes it out of the kitchen and sets it on the dining room table. He pulls a chair out and gestures for me to take a seat.

  “For you, Dani.”

  Blueberry pancakes smothered in butter and syrup.

  Taking the offered seat, I murmur, “Thank you. They’re my favorite.”

  “I know.”

  The way he says that so matter-of-fact should be creepy. I don’t know what it says about me that I’m touched, instead.

  And then I think about him touching me and yeah. I quickly pick up a forkful of pancakes and shove it into my mouth before I say something I really shouldn’t.

  * * *

  After breakfast, I tell him I’m going to take a shower. I only give Zack one warning that he better not peek before I lock the door behind me and jump in.