Page 21 of A Guide to Ghosting (Monsters of Moonvale #3)

20

T he air in the house is tense and foreboding as I force myself to choke down some breakfast. The combination of confusion about my interaction with Ghost and my impending first meeting with Jessie have me on edge. I barely slept last night, wondering if I’d wake up and Ghost would be inside me again.

Something between a shudder and an odd thrill rolls through me. It’s pathetic, but part of me wishes Ghost would possess me again. Having her inside me filled a hole in myself that I hadn’t realized was so cavernous until she took up residence inside it. After the initial fear and shock wore off, her presence was…comforting. Comforting and incredibly arousing, which is the other reason I couldn’t sleep.

I know I should probably be more terrified about the possibility of Ghost deciding to possess me again. Not being in full control of myself is the stuff of nightmares, but now that I’ve felt Ghost’s presence and had a glimpse into her mind, nothing about her seems malicious. She was as freaked out as I was. Maybe even more so, given how she literally ran my body into the wall trying to escape it.

I look at her last message again as I drink my morning coffee, trying to understand what she was apologizing for. There’s a sense that if I could only find the right thread and follow it, the whole tangled mess of my mind would unravel and I’d be able to see things clearly.

Why was she apologizing “for everything”? The only thing she did was possess me, and if she could feel my emotions like I felt hers, she had to know that I wasn’t angry.

And yet, something about that apology felt final. Like a goodbye.

I could try to blame the sour pit in my stomach from the acid in my coffee, but I know that’s not the cause. The thought of not being with Ghost again is upsetting. It’s ridiculous that I’ve developed feelings for the woman haunting my house. We’ve barely spoken, but when I felt Ghost inside me, there was a shocking familiarity. A comfort and rightness that lingers even now. I’m worried I’ve got signals crossed in my brain, and I’ve attached the blossoming affection I have for Jessie to the spectral seductress.

That’s another thing I don’t get. Why did Ghost panic when she started thinking about Jessie? It’s not like we’ve discussed my dating app forays beyond the initial understanding we came to when Ghost propositioned me. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned Jessie by name, so how does she even know that? Has she been watching me while we text?

Wait… is Ghost jealous of her?

Worrying about my ghost fuck buddy being jealous of the woman I’m crushing on is absurd, but after being possessed and finding out that Jessie is a catfish, I can’t discount anything.

That could explain some of the strange desperation I felt in her presence last night. If she’s been reading my texts, then she knows Jessie is coming over tonight. And if things go well, that’d be the end of our hookups. As much as Jessie was on board with the novelty of me sleeping with a ghost, I doubt she’d be cool with me fucking Ghost while we’re dating.

If we’re dating. I’m getting ahead of myself. It’d be better to assume the worst—that there’ll be no spark between me and Jessie when I see her in person.

I’ve been such a fool to invest my emotions into a woman I know next to nothing about, and chances are high that tonight will end in disappointment and heartache.

With that cheery thought, I force myself to get up and start tidying for Jessie’s visit. Well, it’s less tidying and more stress cleaning. My place is already pretty neat, but I want it to be perfect.

When I imagine Jessie looking around the house, the cool gray I painted the living room and the monochrome bachelor aesthetic suddenly seems awful.

What was I thinking? She’ll take one look at this place and think I’m the most boring man on earth. Why didn’t I leave things as they were? I bet Jessie would’ve loved the buttery yellow walls and kitschy furniture.I survey the living room, trying to decide if I have time to go out and buy some cheerier home decor and get it set up before she comes over.

Ugh, I’m being ridiculous. If she’s right for me, she won’t write me off because I have boring taste in decor. I need to calm down.

When I’ve failed to stop my increasingly nervous thoughts, I pull out my phone and dial Emma’s number. If anyone can help me calm down and see reason, it’s her.

She picks up on the third ring, sounding like she just woke up. “H-hello?”

“Hey,” I say, immediately feeling guilty for waking her up even though it’s almost 11. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Don’t be sorry, you’re good. You okay?” Emma asks, voice threaded with concern. Of course she’s worried. Unexpected phone calls usually mean bad news in our family.

“Yeah. Nothing bad, don’t worry! I’m just freaking out a little.” I add a sheepish laugh at the end, feeling silly for calling my sister because I’m nervous about a first date. I should be able to handle this on my own.

“Because of the ghost?” she asks, and I can picture her eager expression as if she were standing right in front of me.

I snort, even though there’s a jolt in my stomach at the mention of Ghost. “No, not because of the ghost.”

“Damn,” she sighs. “If it’s not ghost grandma, then what’s got you on edge?”

“She’s not a grandma,” I reply, unthinking.

“Huh?”

Shit, I still haven’t told Emma that I have proof that there is in fact someone haunting my house. I couldn’t figure out how to broach the subject when it’s intertwined with having sex with said ghost. “Nevermind,” I say dismissively. “I’m nervous because I have a date tonight.”

“What?!” Emma’s shocked voice is so loud I wince and hold the phone away from my ear for a moment while she gets all her gleeful squealing out of the way. “Holy shit, Noah! That’s amazing. I can’t believe—” She cuts herself off and starts again. “Dude, I’m so proud of you! What’s her name? What’s she like? Is she pretty? Tell me everything!”

“Her name is Jessie. She’s hilarious, weird, and likes to give me shit.” My heart flutters as I think about how much I enjoy talking to her, but it quickly turns to nerves when I remember that she’s not who she said she was. “I, uh, I’m not really sure what she looks like.”

“What? Doesn’t she have profile pics?” I can hear Emma’s frown in her voice.

“She does, but, uh, she confessed to me last night that they’re not her.”

“Wait. You’re going on a date with someone who you know is catfishing you? Noah, are you crazy? What if she’s a murderer?!”

“She said that other than her pictures, everything about her has been genuine. I know it’s weird, but I have this gut feeling that if I don’t give her a chance, I’ll regret it. Who knows why she didn’t feel comfortable showing her true self on a dating app? Maybe she’s not conventionally attractive. Or maybe it’s the opposite and doesn’t want people to match with her just because of her looks.”

“Or maybe she’s hiding her identity so that none of her murder victims get traced back to her!” Emma interjects.

I sigh. “You really need to stop listening to all of those true crime podcasts. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll try to take a surreptitious photo of her and text it to you when she gets here. That way, if I’m found dead, you’ll have a better way to ID her.”

“She’s coming over to your house for your first date? That’s even more suspicious!”

“Emma, relax. It’ll be fine.”

“God, you’re such a clueless man,” Emma scoffs. “If the situation were reversed, and I invited a guy I met online over to my house for a first date—a guy who lied to me about what he looked like—would you think that sounded like it’d ‘be fine’?”

“I…” Shit, she’s right. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

I highly doubt that Jessie’s a murderer, but the strangeness of the whole situation is a lot more stark when pointed out by someone not wrapped up in excitement and anticipation.

“I’m all for you dating, and maybe she’s amazing, but you should cancel. Or at least meet her in public somewhere. Just to be safe. If anything happened to you…” Emma trails off, genuine worry choking her voice.

My stomach sinks. “I already gave her my address. Besides, I made a big deal about needing to meet her, so canceling or changing things last minute would probably ruin any hope I have with her.”

Emma sighs. “I hate to be the one to point this out, but if someone likes you, if they’re right for you, they’ll understand your need to be cautious. If this Jessie gets pissed and doesn’t want to meet up, she’s not worth your time, no matter how funny and smart she is.”

Well, shit. I’ve been so focused on getting Jessie to commit to meeting up in person that I didn’t stop to fully consider all the potential red flags she’s given me. I’ve always worried more about impressing a potential partner than thinking about them impressing me. I answered all of her questions—many of which were very personal—and yet, when I recall our conversations, most of what she said was surface level. Do I even know who I’m crushing on at all?

“You’re right.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. I’ve gone from being hopeful and excited about my romantic future to dread that I’ve deluded myself into seeing a connection that isn’t truly there. Am I really so clueless?

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just love you so much and I don’t want you to get hurt.” Emma pauses, taking in a deep breath. “You’re amazing and anyone who is smart will see that and do whatever they can to appreciate you.”

“Thanks,” I say, voice thick. The sentiment is sweet, but I don’t believe her. I’m not amazing. I’m not the kind of guy that someone fights for. I’m just me. Sad, lonely, mildly amusing me.

I clear my throat. “I better go. I need to text her and see if…” I can’t finish the sentence. I can clearly picture Jessie’s reply.

She’s going to say no. She’ll be upset I’m changing things and probably decide to stop talking to me.

“Okay. I hope she takes it well. If she doesn’t, fuck her.”

I let out a weak chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Let me know how it goes. I love you, Noah.”

“I will. Love you, Em.”

I hang up the phone, dread spiking as I open up the dating app. Better to rip the bandage off and message Jessie before I lose my nerve. I type out a message and pace up and down the hallway as I work up the courage to send it. When I finally press send, I scrunch my face up and groan.

Noah: Can we meet at Cafe Celia’s tonight? I’ve thought about it, and realized I’m not comfortable meeting at my house for our first date. I hope you understand. I’m still so excited to meet you in person.

I wait for a reply, but minutes pass, and there’s no response. Has she seen my message? Did she cut me off without even bothering to reply? I open the app and look at our conversation, and it looks like she hasn’t blocked me.

Five more minutes pass. Then ten. By the time thirty minutes have gone by with no response, I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin. I’m wandering around the house, too on edge to stay still.

As I pass the guest room for the umpteenth time, I notice that the door is slightly ajar. I haven’t been in there since Emma left last weekend.

I open the door and peek inside. “Ghost?” I call out into the seemingly empty space. There’s no reply. Not that it means anything. Even if she were in here, she could easily ignore me.

Why does the thought of that sting?

God, I need to get my shit together. Now I’m worrying about getting ignored by Jessie and Ghost.

There’s a surge of frustration inside me, spurring me to write Jessie another message.

Noah: If you don’t want to meet up, I get it. Just tell me.

When I press send, I freeze when I hear a faint sound coming from the closet. What was that?

“Ghost?” I ask again, moving closer to the closet. Despite knowing she bears no violent urges toward me, I can’t stop the instinctual trepidation that comes from never knowing if she’s nearby or not. That she could pop out and grab me at any moment.

There’s still no sign of her. I flick on the closet light and scan the enclosed space. Nothing but some boxes I still need to unpack and…

“What the hell?” I mutter as my eyes snag on a cell phone sitting on the floor beside a box. I wouldn’t have noticed it if the screen hadn’t been illuminated by an incoming notification. I bend down and pick it up with a frown.

There are two missed notification pop-ups on the lock screen. Both from MeetCupid. Both from me .

My head spins and the phone falls from my numb fingers as I attempt to process what I’ve found.

No way. It’s not possible.

How many times have I thought that, and every fucking time the impossible ended up being reality?

With trembling fingers, I send Jessie another message.

Noah: Ghost?

If I’m wrong, she’ll think I’ve lost my mind.

But I’m not.

The phone on the floor vibrates, the screen illuminating as a new notification pops up.

“Oh shit,” a soft, feminine voice behind me gasps. “I can explain. I was going to tell you.”

Icy dread envelops me as I turn around, time moving in slow motion. There’s a glowing, semi-transparent blue woman behind me. A ghost .

My vision tunnels and the last thing I see before everything goes dark is the haunted look of concern on the specter’s lovely, familiar face.