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He’s eyeing me warily, not quite afraid just . . . unsure.
I’m not sure how I look to him, standing here in my underwear. Probably a little of the same.
“Are you a ghost?” I ask him.
Though his face remains stern I see a spark of humor in his eyes. “Your first question is if I’m a ghost? Usually most people leave that conclusion to last.”
“You appeared and disappeared from my bedroom,” I tell him, surprised at how easy it is to talk to him in real life. “You appear in my dreams. And you should know by now I am not most people.”
He raises his chin, not breaking his gaze. “Definitely not.”
“So,” I go on, “are you a ghost? Because believe me, I wouldn’t be surprised. It would be the only thing lately that makes any sense.”
His mouth quirks up in a wane smile. “No. I’m not a ghost.”
“Did I really meet you at the wedding?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“Was I the only one who could see you?”
Oh god, was I walking around talking to myself the whole time?
He gives a slight shake of his head. “No. People could see me. See us. I’m not invisible.”
“Except when you want to be,” I point out.
Just then I hear a door close and Dex’s voice. “Ada?”
I turn around to see him jogging across the lawn to the road. Though he’s distractingly shirtless, at least he had the sense to pull on some pajama pants.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice in a hush down the quiet street.
Oh shit, this whole thing in the bedroom is going to happen again. Jay is going to disappear and I’m going to look like I’m talking to no one.
But when I turn around, Jay is still standing there, albeit a bit stiffer now, on alert.
“Are you okay?” Dex asks as he comes closer, brows lowered as he takes us in, like a prowling dog. Which is a good thing because for once I know he sees him too. And from the edge to his voice I know he’s about to go nuts on Jay if I don’t say something. “Who is this?”
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “This is Jay.”
Dex stops, peers at Jay with a brow raised. “The metrosexual ghost?”
“Not a ghost,” Jay corrects him quickly.
“Just a guy that shops at Sephora, then? That’s okay, I get it.”
I would tell Dex to shut up but the fact is we’re both up to speed. He knows about as much as me now.
“No,” Jay says, clearly unamused.
“So,” Dex says, folding his arms and looking between the two of us, “what is this? I mean, why are you standing in your underwear and talking to a stranger in the middle of the road, in the middle of the night?”
“None of your concern,” Jay says, his jaw firmly set.
Dex flashes him a caustic smile. “Oh really? None of my concern? Right.” He looks at me. “Just say the word, Ada.”
I roll my eyes. “You can’t just go around beating up every boy who talks to me.”
Dex scoffs, gesturing to Jay with his chin. “This ain’t a boy, sister, this is a man. And a ginger one at that.” A strange look of clarity comes over Dex’s eyes as he says the words.
“What?” I ask him.
Jay is watching Dex carefully and I feel like something is transpiring between them, I just don’t know what.
“Maybe you should run along,” Jay says.
Dex stiffens, his eyes taking on this round, half-crazed look that I’ve seen way too many times before. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Jay takes a step closer, his height dwarfing Dex, his eyes boring into him. “I said, this is none of your concern. So turn around and head back into the house and go back to bed.”
A vein pulses on Dex’s forehead beneath a messy swoop of hair. I eye his fists as they clench and unclench, the muscles popping on his arms, his chest.
This isn’t good. Dex fights like hell. Dirty and mean.
But Jay. Well, aside from his height and bulk, he also can disappear into thin air, so that’s something.
I’m about to step between them like some girl in a fifties greaser movie, trying to keep the two rivals apart, when I hear, “What the bloody hell is going on here?”
We all turn toward the English accent. Jacob, wearing slippers and a pair of pajamas that look like Hugh Hefner crossed with an old polyester couch from the ‘70s, comes marching toward us.
Jay mutters something under his breath, taking a step back from Dex.
Dex stares at the infamous Jacob “The Cobb” Edwards as he stops in front of us all, glaring at us with an air of authority, like we’re a bunch of petulant schoolchildren and he broke up a playground fight.
Jacob brings his eyes, even more orange and vivid in the streetlight, over to Jay and shakes his head mildly. “I really thought you were going to handle this in a more, well, subtle way.”
