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I stop. Byron, too. He clutches my hand and stares deeply into my eyes.
I squint at him. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
Uh, Griffin, what’re you doing?
“Ghosts?” Byron glances down at my hand, then lets out a nervous laugh. “I, uh …”
“Just asking in the spirit of the season. No need to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.” He shifts his eyes, seeming conflicted. “Not exactly.”
Dude, read the room. He’s weirded out.
I clear my throat. “Hey, look, Spooky’s is just a few streets away!”
“Oh, wow, we walked fast!” Byron laughs. I can’t help but note the relief in his face at the abrupt change of subject. I’ll assume he’s got a superstitious side and might have had an encounter with a ghost.
Just like I have.
Aww, bud. Are you saying you believe in them now?
Nope. Still don’t believe in ghosts … but I believe in you, Westley Harmeyer.
Uh, that doesn’t make sense.
Doesn’t it? Have you met any other ghosts before, other than yourself?
Well … no, but I’ve only been inside my apartment the whole past year, until just yesterday. What if there’s more of them out there? What if—?
“I’d say we could drop in for a post-dinner coffee,” says Byron, eyeing the entrance to Spooky Beans, “but I think I’d like to keep away from the usual suspects this particular night. I want it to be completely ours.”
Completely ours.
Yeah, about that …
“So you want to go straight to my place?” I ask.
Byron peers thoughtfully down the road. “You said you live just a few blocks down from the coffee shop?”
“Yep. 1777 13th Street.”
His looks at me. Something flicks past his eyes so fast, I barely miss it. Was it fear? Recognition? A fly?
Then it’s gone and he smiles. “How about we go to mine? It’s just down Fortune a few blocks, the other way past Spooky’s. I’ve got a lot of drinks in my fridge that no one’s been drinking plus a new TV I just have to show off in all its 4K glory. How’s that sound?”
Hmm. That was odd.
Yeah, it was. I noticed, too.
Maybe he knows about what happened to you. The story surely spread.
Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s go check out his place. I’m out of the apartment and don’t give a damn if this night lasts forever! Party!!
I grin. “Let’s do it!”
With that, the pair of us shift course and head down Fortune Street. When we get to his building and climb up a set of stairs, we arrive at his place: apartment 248.
To say he’s a clean freak does no justice to describe his sleek, suave-as-hell pad. The place is immaculate. It comes off like a studio apartment with its open space, tall ceilings, and wide windows letting in the night sky. One wall is exposed brick, its clay color permeating the color scheme of his furniture seamlessly. A modern L-shaped couch faces a gorgeous, wide TV mounted to the brick, with an arty, asymmetrical chandelier-thing that hangs overhead.
I can’t believe my eyes as he pulls me inside. “This is your place?” both West and I seem to cry out at the same time, astonished.
“I can’t take credit for it. Don’t think too much of it, because …” Byron chuckles. “First off, my dads are doctors and helped me with the down payment. Second, most of the art you’re looking at, I was given. All my friends from school were artists and each one wanted me to take something of theirs with me. In other words, I had great friends!” He laughs. “My dads adored them. But they’re a bit eccentric themselves, so of course they loved the art. Especially the creepy pieces. I’ll tell you about them! The art, that is. Each one has a story.”
I gape. “Dads?? You have dads??” I shake my head as I drink in the sight of his super-cool place. “You just get cooler and cooler by the second, Byron.”
“Wait until you see my costume closet!” Then he freezes and spins around at the kitchen counter. “Maybe I should save that for our second hangout. It’s … kind of intense, actually.”
I come up to him. “This is our second hangout.”
“Oh, right.” He chuckles. “Then I’ll take you to see my costumes, too! Or would you rather see them first?”
“I’m kinda dying to see your costumes, honestly.”
He grins. “I’m kinda dying to show them off.”
Next, he takes me down a short hall, off which there are only two doors: one leading to the bathroom and the other to his den of fun.
Sorry. I mean his bedroom.
The vibe changes instantly when I walk through his bedroom door. Everything is ultra calm and soothing to the eyes. Located at the corner of the strangely-shaped building, the far corner of the otherwise square room is cut at a diagonal, creating a short fifth wall at which a single window lets in light from a nearby streetlamp. Underneath it, his big bed lies at an angle, with a crisp brown and gold striped bedspread and matching pillows.
