AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I stare through the glass with him for a while. “You want to throw a little party here? We could put on Ghost so you see what you’re missing. Maybe Sixth Sense, too. I’ll fill up a whole bowl of candy corn. Order you a big-ass pizza yourself, even though you still won’t tell me if you poop or get boners.”
“Fucking hell, man.”
“You want a birthday party? I can even get you a present, too, though … I, uh … can’t imagine what a ghost really wants.”
West hasn’t pulled his eyes from the window or what he’s seeing. Likely whatever it is isn’t outside, but rather deep in his mind, haunting him. Imagine that: a haunted ghost. He finally lets out a tiny sigh, then says, “Doesn’t matter. What I want, no one can give me.”
I bite my lip. It isn’t that difficult to surmise what a died-too-young ghost wants: to be alive again.
Indeed, something I can never give him.
“But there’s one thing you can do,” he decides, at last turning away from the window to look at me. “You can go downstairs, head to that corner on 13th, and get yourself another Pumpkin Bitch.”
“It’s Pumpkin Prince, and why would I—?”
“Because it isn’t enough to get that job. Now, you gotta put what you learned to real use.” West smirks. “I want you to go down there and get the guy.”
“I …” My eyes shrink. “Wait, what?”
“You’re gonna go down to that coffee shop, look that Brandon guy in the eye—”
“Byron.”
“—and ask him out on a date. You’re gonna do it for us, my man. Do it for your self-worth. Do it to prove it to yourself. Do it for your own boner.”
I roll my eyes.
“I don’t wanna see you again until the mission is accomplished.” He abandons the window and goes to the candle in the kitchen. “You got this, bro. Don’t let me down.”
“Hey, wait! West!”
He blows out his own candle and vanishes.
I frown at the spot where he stood, annoyed. “That isn’t fair! Only I can blow out that—” I growl. “Look, if it turns out Byron isn’t into me—or into guys at all—and you’ve sent me on this suicide mission, I swear …” I shrug. “Well, I dunno what I’ll do, but I’ll be mad, and you won’t hear the end of it.” I wonder if he’s even still standing there, amused, laughing at me or just chowing away on that last piece of pizza. I sigh. “Fine. I’ll go. I’ll go and … get the guy or whatever.” I check myself in the mirror before I head to the door. I stop and glance back over my shoulder. “Thanks,” I mutter softly.
Then I’m gone.
Spooky Beans Café is busy. Very busy. I can tell even from outside with all the activity through the window. Still, I refuse to let anything daunt me. West might have pushed me to do this, but it isn’t without reason; I want Byron more than anything, and this could be my first step. After a breath to steel myself, I push through the doors. The noise of chatter and hissing machines swats me over the head. Pumpkin spice, coffee, and a scent of burning consume me.
At the busy counter, Byron is hard at work, serving customer after customer with a smile. I recite to myself a few confidence-boosting mantras, then get in line. It moves unexpectedly fast. Alarmingly fast. One moment, I assume I’ll have a good fifteen minutes to prepare all that I’m gonna say. Then the next moment …
I’m in front of him. “H-Hey, Byron.”
“Calvin, hi!” His face lights up. He looks especially good today, like there’s an extra aura of hotness around him—and I’m helpless to resist being pulled in by it. “Are you already back for another Pumpkin Prince?”
“You got me.” I laugh. “I’m … t-totally hooked.” I put on a strained smile.
Where’s all my damned confidence I practiced and exercised so well just an hour or so ago? Byron should be a piece of cake compared to that cold office room, standing in front of the president of the company along with her strict-eyed assistant and awards on the walls.
But no matter how hard I try to fight it, Byron has an influence over me that no one and nothing can even hope to match. It’s as if every dream of what we could become in my fantasies comes forward, hanging onto me like heavy iron balls of expectation. All of those hopes and dreams can come crashing down the moment I say something wrong, make it awkward, or scare him away. There is so much pressure. Too much pressure.
Before I know it, he’s already finished, and the cup is being slid across the counter by his big, sexy hands. I’ve lost my chance. I reach for my wallet.
