I can understand her resorting to marijuana. Between her overbearing mother and the spirits, the girl needs something to prevent a nervous breakdown.
She studies me. Then she cocks an eyebrow and raises her blunt. “You want?”
I search her face until my gaze lands on her lips. “Shotgun.”
Her eyes widen as she knows what I’m demanding. I watch her shift as I walk towards her. Be careful what you ask for, Jo.
Chapter 28
Josephine
Great, I’m gonna get it now. But no worries. Shotgun. No big deal.
Julian walks towards me wearing a bomber jacket, and black faded skinny jeans. Wavy blonde hair falling over his forehead, he reminds me of a 90s teen idol. But his eyes tell a different story, and I blow a nervous breath. The intensity of his baby blues reminds me of a panther stalking its prey.
When he reaches me, I become hyperaware of his height, his scent and his heat. But he comes closer. And closer. And closer. He stops only when his chest skims my clavicle. Planting both hands on the wall, he traps me between them.
He raises a brow, as if giving me an opportunity to back out. Though my heart pumps and my stomach flutters, I raise my blunt and take a deep drag. I’m no coward, so I hold the smoke in my mouth and nod. He grins, seeing through my act, then lowers his head.
When our noses lie close enough to brush, he pauses, dragging the moment. I grip my thigh, waiting for him to end the torture. Finally, he places his mouth on mine. I fight not to gasp, but I can’t control the electricity the instant our mouths touch. He parts his lips, giving me the green light, and I oblige by releasing the smoke straight into him. He takes a breath, sucking in my smoky offering.
My body heats, aware of the intimacy as we hide under the darkness of the night. I’m reminded of our first kiss, but this time, he emits sensuality, and it caresses every single inch of my skin. And we’re not even kissing.
When Julian raises his head, he keeps his heavy-lidded eyes on me as he releases the plume of smoke from the side of his mouth. Wisps escaping his nostrils add to his allure, and I imprint this image in my brain, making me burn.
We stare at each other in silence. The magnetic force of our energies pulls us, and I dig my heels into the grass to stop my undeniable want to succumb to this attraction.
“Joy.” He whispers. “Remember the last night we were together?”
Uh oh. Someone better interrupt this conversation before we do something we’re going to regret. But as if answering my plea, a familiar icy wind breaks the intensity between us.
Alexa’s spirit materializes behind him, her black hair unmoving despite the windy night air. Her blank stare shows nothing, but her clarity tonight can mistake her for a live person.
Julian’s eyes widen as the chill descends and wraps our bodies in its cyclonic cocoon. “Jo, no bullshitting.” He places his hands on my shoulders. “Who are you seeing?”
I step back in surprise as Julian reintroduces a link we once had when we were kids. We can still connect?
As if reading my mind, he answers. “Yeah, I’m just as surprised as you. Who is it?”
I shrug off his palms. “Nothing. It’s the wind.”
But he shakes his head. “My spidey sense is going off. It’s cold as fuck and not because of the evening air. Your big eyes are telling me different. That’s not just weed.”
I stare at my feet, and my hands tremble. In this dark chilly night, with Julian staring at me and Alexa in our midst, my resolve breaks. Time to speak up. I lift my head, fighting to control the quiver in my lips. “It’s Alexa.”
His body unflinching and his face an unreadable expression, he says nothing as if my words ricocheted off his brain. For a minute, I thought he didn’t hear me, and I contemplated repeating what I said. But he turns and looks at the sky with his hands on his head. He stays silent, but I pick up his ragged breathing. “How long have you known?”
I wince. He will not like my response, so I stay quiet.
His voice deepens into a low rumble. “How long have you known? Answer me.”
My nose flares as I wait for an explosion. I count under my breath and on the last one, I speak. “She had been missing for three days when she visited me.”
Julian’s shoulders shoot up as if struck from behind in a surprise attack. “Fuck!” he yells. His expletive echoes through the quiet garden, tainting its peace. Then he spins to me, eyes bulging out of its sockets. “We need to talk. Let’s go.”
“I don’t know, dude. You look kinda crazy right now.”
He steps towards me. “Crazy? You dropped a bomb on me. My friend is dead. She’s been haunting you for a week and you said nothing.”
I flinch as if struck by a whip, but he turns away from me and calls someone. “Brandon, do me a favor.” He paces in front of me. “Josephine is sick, and I need to take her home.” He pauses. “No, man. It’s good. She’s my neighbor. Not a big deal.”
Julian continues. “Can Bianca hitch a ride with you after the party?” I hear another pause. “Yeah, I know… just do me a solid, bro… I owe you one. And whatever you do, don’t tell her Jo is with me.”
I close my eyes. I’m lightheaded, but he grabs my hand and pulls me away from the wall. He leads me through the garden, around the house, past the pool and out onto the front lawn. The next thing I see, he’s opening the passenger side of his car and buckling me in my seat.
We roar out of Dee’s and Jordan’s mansion and within seconds, we’re on the road. I peer out my window with full awareness that my mind is not registering the view. I rub my hands on my thighs and wish that the very act can wipe away the tension. Somewhere between yesterday and this moment, I had welcomed us becoming friends. Now, I’m sure my confession and his realization that I had kept a deadly secret, obliterated whatever headway we made.
I peer at his face from the corner of my eye. It’s a storm cloud, and I wait for the rainfall. He says nothing, but I want him to say something. Yell, cry or criticize, I don’t care. Anything is better than this silence.
He rolls to a stop, and I see that we’re parked in front of my home. Finally, the rain falls. Julian slams his fist on the steering wheel and hunches his shoulders. Covering his face with his hands, he grieves and weeps for his friend.
My heart breaks at the sight of him, making me want to offer comfort and risk the high likelihood of being pushed away. I move forward, ready to hug him, but when I’m an inch away from his body, I stop. Years under my mother’s tutelage made me an expert at restraint. I cross my arms to make sure they don’t betray me and lean against my seat. But compassion hasn’t completely left me, and I need to hold myself accountable. “I’m sorry, Jules,” I whisper. “I’m sorry about Alexa, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
He stirs and stares at me. His eyes no longer show anger, and it’s now replaced with the pain of having to face reality. “Why, Jo? Why would you withhold that information from me? Had three years really jaded you that you couldn’t trust me?”
“I don’t know, ok? You’ve been so hot and cold with me ever since we came back into each other’s lives. Can you blame me for questioning whether I can trust you? Do you deny this?”
He says nothing.
“Plus, you think it’s easy having to go through this alone? Well, it hasn’t been a walk in the park for me either. I’m the only one who knows about her death, and that sits heavily on my shoulders. Add to the fact that the victim is your friend. I wasn’t sure how you’d take that. It was all just too much.”
He stares at me, unblinking. Then he sighs. “Ok, fine. I’ll give you all of that,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “Now what?”
I look outside to my house. But I’m drained of energy. “The choice is up to you.” I place my fingers on the door handle. “But for now, we sleep.”
****
I wake up to the sound of movement in my room. The light glares at me, so I sit up from the mattress. The voice of a young girl speaking to s
omeone startles me. Something is not right. I glance around and see baby blue walls and pictures. My breath hitches. This is not my bedroom.
But Alexa is with me, engrossed in a phone conversation. There’s an echo and I try to understand her, but it muffles her voice. She moves with speed as she gets ready, disappearing inside her closet, and then reemerging, wearing a jacket and boots. After a brief pause in front of the mirror, she grabs her purse and heads for the door.
I jump out of bed upon realizing that the details of the night she disappeared are unfolding. I run after her, observing her descending the stairs with careful steps so as not to disturb anyone. Then, she’s out of the house, and so am I. I watch her rush to a black car parked across the street. I strain to see inside the vehicle, but the headlights are so bright, it prevents me from seeing the driver. I notice the tinted windows. How convenient.
I follow Alexa, but without warning, the ground wobbles and the landscape fades. “No! Not yet!”
But it’s too late. This world closes on me, leaving me in complete darkness. A few minutes later, my eyes open and I’m back in my room. It was just a dream. But a disturbing thought gnaws at me. The black car that Alexa was running towards was the same one that chased me and Julian around downtown Wakefield.
Chapter 29
Julian
Jo’s house stands between mine and the super-sized dwelling of Mr. Joseph “The Good Ole Days” Spencer. The wide steps, huge front porch and French doors stand guard as I wait for the girl with wild hair to emerge. The Ligaya family’s residence resembles the homes in my mother’s Better Homes and Gardens magazine. But it doesn’t stray much from the rest of the neighborhood. With ninety-nine percent of the families here being affluent, this patch of land boasts colonial homes and mansions with a touch of Americana. My family belongs in the one percent tier of middle-class residents smacked in between the rich. The modest two-story that had sheltered the Taylor household for the past twelve years is a decent home commissioned to us by the city and county when dad accepted the chief of police position.
A gust of wind blows dead foliage across Jo’s lawn and rolls a lone soda can towards my feet. It chills my body, making me zip up my hoodie. Let’s see if she’ll stand me up tonight. To be honest, I almost dropped to the ground when she agreed to meet me after I texted her, and now I’m nervous.
I glance at my watch. It’s nine o’clock at night, twenty-one hours after she broke my heart with the news of Alexa’s death. Since I woke up this morning, I’ve worked out for three hours instead of my usual two. I vacuumed my room, the hallway and the living room. My pent-up energy had me mowing the lawn and working with dad on his ‘55 Chevy Truck. It elated my mother to see her son taking initiative around the house, but she also looked at me with suspicion from the corner of her eye.
Brandon also called me during lunch, and while I wanted to talk to him, I let it go on voicemail. The idea of talking to my friend while knowing about his girlfriend depressed me. And I’m a traitor for keeping this dark secret from him.
The door creaks open, revealing a silhouette in the doorway. As she steps out, the moonlight catches her face, giving those cheekbones and that golden skin an ethereal glow. I want to avert my gaze, but it takes a powerful man to look away and certain things weaken me. Jo is one of them.
A hooded sweatshirt and sweatpants cover her curves. In this boyish, shapeless outfit, she reminds me of the tomboy I used to know, and this version comforts me. A thick strand of curly hair peeks from underneath the gray hood and spills out to her left shoulder. Man, I’d love to push off that hoodie to release the rest of those curls.
As soon as she reaches me, I give a nod. “Did you delete my number?”
In that husky voice, she answers, “Nope. Guess you didn’t delete mine either.”
“What name did you put me under?”
Her phone landing inches from my face, she shows our text exchange.
Fartface.
I grin. “Thought so.”
“Am I still under that stupid nickname?”
I flash my cell in front of her. She reads it and smirks. “Godzilla Breath. Classy.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Though she tried to control it, she chuckled along, showing off that gap-toothed smile. Fartface and Godzilla Breath were nicknames we gave each other as kids. The names somewhat stuck. It’s fun hearing it again after so many years.
Memories of us running around this very lawn with Nerf guns enter my head. Ok, I’ll regret this later. “Fuck, I might as well say it.”
She raises a brow. “What?”
“I kinda miss this.”
Godzilla Breath looked gob-smacked. But after a few seconds, she smirks. “That’s funny. Because lately it seems like you have some personal vendetta against me.”
A fair assumption. “You’re right, and I’ll blame that sentiment on the moonlight casting this pretty glow on us.”
“No backsies. You already said it.”
“But I’m the king of backsies.”
“Admit it. You’re still a sap.”
Reaching out, I tug a curly strand. “Shh…. don’t tell anyone.”
And now, she’s looking at me with round bewildered eyes. I bite my lip. It felt so natural. I used to do that when we were kids. But somewhere in my chest, the telltale sign of my heart beating warlike drumbeats make me worry. Damn it.
Underneath the moon’s spotlight, we stand in front of each other. The silence thickens, creating an unbearable tension, and I have to break it. “What happened to Fartface and Godzilla Breath, Jo?”
The melody of her laughter floats in the air, betrayed only by those big brown eyes that show sadness.
“They grew up, Jules.”
“Why? We didn’t have to grow up so fast.”
She looks over her shoulder towards the house before focusing on me. “We don’t have all night. Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”
My lips tighten. That avoidance irritates me because I want to understand why she abandoned me that fateful summer. But I’ll table that for now. We have bigger problems on our hands.
As if on cue, a sudden chill creeps over me, a coldness that’s very different from the evening air. Jo’s eyes dart from right to left as she tracks. I point to the goosebumps on my arm. “This.” Finger pointing up, referring to the drop of temperature, I add, “And this. Apparently, I can still feel spirits when I’m near you. Just like when we were kids. So, let’s work together to find Alexa.”
She scowls at me. “No. We’re not doing that.”
I bristle. “Why not? You can’t do this alone.”
She backs up from me. “Jesus, let it go, will you? This burden is mine, and it’s mine alone.”
I hiss. “Well, sweetheart, it stopped being yours alone, when fate shared some of your burden with me. Did I ask for this connection? Hell no, yet here we are.”
“Jules, we can’t even talk to each other without fighting. You actually expect us to work together?”
“You’re right. Obviously, I have unresolved issues with you. How about this? We call a truce. We don’t have to be chummy-chummy, but we can be civil. It’ll be strictly professional.”
A frown creeps up her face. “We’ve changed so much…”
“So what if we’ve changed? That’s life. Why do you keep pushing me away?”
Jo exhales. But a sudden shift in mood causes her to tilt her head and watch me with furrowed brows. She inches closer until our shoes touch, and my breath hitches at her boldness to get near me. Her familiar scent of cinnamon and coconut distract me, but I stay still as her heavy-lidded eyes search mine. Fingers landing on my face, she takes me by surprise as she traces my lashes, nose, jawline and lips. I let her digits roam, giving her the freedom she needs. Then she stops and closes her eyes.
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