Page 19 of A Guide to Ghosting (Monsters of Moonvale #3)

18

E very night this week, I’ve gone to bed on edge, waiting to see if Ghost will decide she’s tortured me long enough and wondering if Jessie will actually show up for our date on Saturday. It’s pretty damn hard to fall asleep with a stiff dick and a worried brain. Jerking off would no doubt help with both issues, but I resist the temptation. The weight of Ghost’s unseen presence is always with me, even if I have no way of knowing if she’s actually there or not.

By the time Friday night rolls around, I’m worn out. I’m getting ready for bed, praying that I’ll be able to get some rest so I’m not a zombie for my date with Jessie tomorrow night, when the woman in question messages me.

Dread pools in my gut as I immediately think the worst—she’s canceling our date.

I brace myself for the pain of her rejection. Because after all the boundaries I set, Jessie not showing up tomorrow night for any reason other than an emergency would be a clear rejection, even if she says otherwise.

Swiping open the dating app, I pull up our chat.

Jessie: I’m nervous.

I let out a heavy exhale, not particularly reassured by her message, but glad it’s not her outright bailing on me. I can work with nervous.

Noah: Me too.

Jessie: Feel like I’m going to pass out or throw up nervous.

Noah: Hah, I’m flattered? Unless it’s because your nerves are from dread.

Jessie: They are, but it’s not dread about you. No, I’m pretty sure you’re amazing.

Jessie: Have I told you how annoying that is?

She thinks I’m amazing.

I get caught up in the delight that her unexpected praise elicits, but only for a moment, because I don’t understand what there is to dread.

Noah: You’ve said that once or twice.

Noah: Talk me through it. What are you dreading?

Jessie’s response is almost instantaneous.

Jessie: That you’ll hate me.

My brow furrows at her message. Something strange is going on. Jessie’s sudden worry that I’m not going to like her is incongruous with our past conversations. Was her self-assuredness before all an act, or is there a specific reason she thinks I’ll hate her?

Noah: I won’t. But out of curiosity, why do you think I’ll hate you?

Noah: If you tell me, I can reassure you that’s not the case now so that when we have our date tomorrow, you don’t have to worry the whole time.

Jessie takes ages to type out her reply. While I wait, I worry the chapped bit of skin on my lip with my teeth, then dig through my nightstand trying to find some lip balm so I don’t give in to the urge to tear it off and then have fucked up lips on my first date. If said first date is even happening. She’s taking a concerning amount of time to answer my question.

When Jessie finally sends her reply, it’s surprisingly short.

Jessie: I look different from my profile photo.

Oh.

Damn.

I hate that my initial reaction is disappointment. I really like Jessie and I didn’t lie when I told her that her red hair and big tits weren’t the reason I wanted to go out with her. But they contributed to my attraction to her, whether or not I like to admit it.

Noah: How different? Are you a middle-aged dude? Wait, are you an alien?

Jessie: Hah, no to both. Aliens aren’t real.

At least she’s not a total catfish. I let out a heavy sigh, still trying to wrap my head around this information. I know I should be pissed that she lied, but we’ve come this far. I’m not going to change my mind about meeting her now.

If she’s not as pretty as I’d imagined, it’ll be fine. If she’s not attractive to me at all… ugh, I’ll be disappointed. There’s always the chance that I’ll like her even more than the fake photo she used. I doubt I’d have that kind of luck, but there’s a first time for everything.

Noah: You were willing to believe that there’s a ghost in my house that wants to ride my dick, but you draw the line at aliens?

Jessie: I guess you have a point there.

Jessie: Aren’t you going to ask what I look like?

Uh, yes, obviously I want to know what you look like, Jessie.

I groan and scrub a hand across my face. I’m going to torture myself with worries about what will happen if we meet and despite my best intentions, I’m not attracted to her at all. Fuck, I’ll feel like such an asshole, even though she’s the one that put us in that situation to begin with.

I can’t ask Jessie for a photo. There’s a reason she’s hidden what she looks like, and me needing to know that will confirm that I’m another shallow dude who cares more about her appearance than her mind.

Noah: I’m good.

Jessie: You’re good? I’m telling you I’m a catfish and you’re fine with that? I could be a murderer! I could be a monster!

I snort at the thought of Jessie showing up tomorrow night and finding out she’s a literal monster. Given that I’m sleeping with Ghost, I guess anything is possible. If Jessie’s a monster, my money’s on her being a werewolf.

Noah: It’s not the full moon tomorrow night. I’m good.

Jessie: Are you having a stroke?

Noah: No, I’m trying to get you to relax.

Noah: It sucks that you lied to me about what you look like. I can’t promise that we’ll meet and I’ll be attracted to you, but that could be said about anyone I meet online. Pictures aren’t the same as looking someone in the eye and hearing their voice. Seeing what they look like when they smile. Or scowl, in your case, given your propensity for pretending I annoy you.

Jessie: I’m not pretending.

There’s a long pause before she messages again.

Jessie: I’m sorry I lied.

Jessie: I’ve had bad dating experiences in the past. That’s still no excuse.

Noah: I get it. You think I didn’t want to put up pictures of myself from back when I was younger and more muscular?

Jessie: Stop it, you’re sexy as hell.

Jessie: Unless you’re also catfishing me.

Noah: Damn, you figured me out. I’mthe secret alien.

Jessie: Does that mean you’re going to probe me on our date?

Noah: If things go well.

Jessie: Hah, doubtful. After all, you’re an alien and I’m a catfish.

I chuckle, some of the tension in my chest easing. Though I’m still desperate to know what this witty woman actually looks like. Tomorrow night can’t come soon enough.

Noah: Sounds like a match made in heaven. Or hell. Either way, it’ll be interesting.

Jessie: When did you get so damn optimistic?

Noah: When I started talking to you.

Jessie takes ages to respond to that, and I want to kick myself for not keeping that sappy thought to myself.

It’s the truth, though. I’ve felt more hope since I started talking to Jessie than I have in years. It’s a part of myself I worried I’d lost. Even if things don’t work out with her, it proves to me that my ability to be happy and hopeful isn’t dead. It’s just been dormant.

Jessie: Can I ask you something?

Jessie: It’s going to sound really random, but I’d appreciate knowing.

Noah: Uh, sure?

Jessie: What was your last relationship like?

Crap. I always dread this kind of question because it’s more than a little embarrassing how unnotable and infrequent my past relationships have been.

Noah: It’s been a while for me. Years. Probably shouldn’t admit that pathetic fact. But I’ve had things to worry about other than dating, at least until recently. I dated the last woman I was in a relationship with for about a year before she moved across the country. It was a mutual decision to break up, since we both knew long distance wouldn’t work. We were better as friends, so it was for the best.

Jessie: Have you ever met someone that you felt a spark with?

Noah: Besides you?

Jessie: Ugh, yes. Duh.

I don’t have to consider her question for long. Because, yes, there definitely was someone.

Noah: You sure you want me to tell you about a connection I felt with someone else? Isn’t that weird?

Jessie: No, it will help. I know I’m being weird. Please humor me.

Noah: Alright.

It still feels like a trap.

Noah: There was a woman I met on another dating app. She was hilarious and smart. A lot like you, honestly. We went on one date and it was amazing.

The dull pang of regret and guilt twists my stomach. I’ve done my best not to think about Dot.

Jessie: If she was so amazing, what happened?

Her question unearths a memory I’ve kept buried, and the visceral reaction I have when I let myself think about her makes my chest ache.

God, she was breathtaking. When Dot smiled at me, my whole world felt awash in light and color. I’ve never experienced that kind of instant knowing that someone was right . It was so easy to talk to her when we messaged on the app, and even easier when we met in person. Easy and fucking magical.

I didn’t want the date to end. When she sat across from me at the table, I had the craziest urge to profess my adoration. When we hugged at the end of the date, her body felt like it belonged in my arms.

I wanted so much more.

I swallow the lump in my throat. I shouldn’t cry over a woman I went on one date with. She probably doesn’t even remember me. I won’t let regret over what could’ve happened if I’d told Dot what was going on rather than disappearing drag me back into sadness.

Noah: The timing wasn’t right.

Understatement of the century. More like the timing was abysmal. Why couldn’t I have met her a few months earlier? Or now?

Jessie: You’re kidding. What kind of excuse is that? If you’re into someone, you make it work. If I come over tomorrow and we hit it off, but you decide that “the timing isn’t right”, you’ll what? Ghost me?

Noah: What? No! I wouldn’t do that.

Jessie: Really? Did you ghost her?

Fuck, that’s a brutal way to summarize the situation. It’s technically true, but the intent to vanish was never there.

Noah: Yes, but it’s more complicated than that. It wasn’t intentional. Things were overwhelming, and it was awful timing.

Please don’t let her hold that against me. I don’t know if I can bear my past mistakes ruining my present shot at a relationship.

Noah: I won’t ghost you, Jessie. The timing issue won’t happen again.

Jessie: How can you say that?

A grim laugh escapes me. Fuck, I’m probably tempting fate by saying it’s not a possibility.

Noah: I guess I can’t completely guarantee it. With my luck, who knows what emergency or terrible thing might pop up?

I know I shouldn’t dump my trauma on her, but I need her to understand I’m not some asshole who intentionally ghosts women.

Noah: My mom’s already dead, so at least that won’t be the issue this time.

I stare down at my morbid message, eyes blurring. Here come the tears.

Flashes of memories from that awful time in my life boil up, accompanied by the gnawing pain of grief.

Getting the text from Dad saying I needed to come home because Mom wasn’t doing well. The next two days, where “not doing well” turned into dying. Then the following month of sitting by her hospital bed, praying for a miracle while knowing no one was listening. Mom’s funeral. A month later, when Dad started coughing and the doctor dropped the news of his cancer like a live grenade in our laps, leaving me bracing for impact and doing everything I could to shield Emma from the blast.

Jessie: Fuck, Noah, I’m sorry.

I swipe at my tears and try to regain control of my emotions. Easier said than done.

Noah: It’s okay. You didn’t know.

It’s not okay.

I know it’s understandable that I didn’t tell Dot about what happened at the time. I thought about it, but who the fuck wants to hear from a dude, who they only went on one date with, that his mom is dying so he can’t take them out again? That he probably won’t be able to date any time soon. I kept telling myself I’d reach out to explain and apologize after things calmed down, but then things kept getting worse. Three years passed. At this point, I’d seem like a creep if I messaged Dot out of the blue.

Jessie: I shouldn’t have assumed.

Noah: I’m not upset with you. It’s a valid question. But I hope you understand by now that I’m not the kind of guy who gives up on something special.

Jessie: Yeah. I’m realizing that.

Noah: In case it wasn’t clear, something special includes you.

Jessie: Hah. Tell me that again when I come over for our date.

Noah: So you’re still coming?

Jessie: Yeah. I’m still coming. I don’t give up on things that are special to me either.

The glow of my phone stirs me from my unsuccessful attempt at falling asleep after talking to Jessie. My heart leaps up into my throat as I roll over to see the phone floating in midair next to the bed.

“Ghost?” I croak, sitting up and orienting myself toward where the phone is hovering.

You’ve been good.

I can’t help smiling at the message she’s written in the notes app.

“I didn’t want to let you down,” I say, cock already thickening with anticipation. She might be here to tease me again, but after the emotional conversation with Jessie, I’m desperate for something to ease my tension.

Good boy.

Her praise, combined with the prickling awareness of her presence so nearby, makes me shiver.

I’m going to give you a reward. Tell me if you don’t want it. Or need me to stop.

“O-okay.” I swallow heavily. There’s some concern that I don’t know what my ghost fuck buddy considers a reward, but at this point, I’ll take whatever she’ll give me.