Me:It’s part of the elusive funeral director persona. I have a reputation to uphold. Besides, you analyze incorrectly.
Levi:Do not.
I’m annoyed at how much I’m enjoying this. This easy, flirtatious exchange that feels dangerously natural. A log shifts in the fireplace, shadows flickering through my empty apartment.
Me:So, are you here just to critique my fashion, or is this app actually working for you?
There’s a beat of silence, a torturous moment of digital limbo where I’ve gone from casually curious about Levi to…entirely invested.
Levi:Oh, it’s definitely working. I’ve already secured a date with the hottest guy in town.
My heartbeat quickens, betraying any remaining composure.
Me:Is that so?
Levi:Mm-hm. Pale, buttoned-up, devastating at trivia…and handsome. You’d hate him.
A sharp inhale, anticipation coiling in my chest.
Me:Sounds like a nightmare.
Levi:Total nightmare. Can’t wait to see him again.
It’s unmistakable now. Flirting. Intentional, electric flirting. I lean back into the couch, rubbing a hand over my jaw, heart pounding unevenly. The scent of burnt amber and cedar fills the room and, for the first time in far too long, I feel want. It churnslow in my stomach, sharp and startling, the ache so foreign that I legitimately have to stop and think about when I last allowed myself to act on it.
It should be unsettling, a step too far. Yet I find myself craving more.
Me:You’re persistent.
Levi:And you’re resistant.
Instantaneous reply. My thumb pauses, hovering over the screen, tension tightening my chest.
Me:I have my reasons. Turns out small towns just love their narratives.
Levi:Do they involve being deeply emotionally unavailable?
I stare at his words. He’s not entirely wrong. And his honestly feels unexpectedly gentle. Maybe that’s why it hits so differently coming from him.
Me:Careful now. According to recent opinion, that’s exactly my brand.
The pulse at my throat jumps. I shift on the couch, aware of every inch of fabric against my skin, of how much space my body is taking up, how warm the room has gotten. I’m not used to taking risks like this. Or this want. But Levi makes me want to. And that terrifies and thrills me in equal measure.
Me:How about this: Drinks this week. No trivia. Just drinks. I’ll even limit myself to a single layer of black.
Another pause. Heartbeats stretch painfully until—
Levi:I’d love nothing more, Funeral Guy.
I set my phone down, the ache still low in my stomach as I breathe out slowly. The wanting stays. The loneliness loosens. Not at all the same thing, but close enough to feel like weather changing.
My shadows stir at the edges of the room, restless with my growing vulnerability. Normally, they’re my shield against mortal life, the one constant left from the underworld. Proof I haven’t been erased completely. But as Levi’s words linger, they feel uncertain, almost curious.
As if even they are wondering what will happen if I finally let someone in.
• • •
It starts witha message.
