Page 27 of Ghost of a Chance

T here was something about being in Jasper’s arms that she could get used to. The spicy smell of his cologne mingling with a hint of sweat. The way his body enveloped hers. Dangerous thinking. Curled behind her in his boxer briefs, holding her against his chest, he felt solid. Comforting.

Her mind was quiet for once.

“I like your tattoo,” he said, quietly, his chin resting on her shoulder. “I get that you haven’t decided on making it permanent yet, but it’s really nice.”

“Yeah? I like it too.”

“Then why don’t you just get it… I mean it’s none of my business but I’m curious.”

“It’s the blood. I mean I thought I could handle it. I watch Ink Master all the time. Honestly, I thought the red that showed up was just some sort of dark dye they had to use to get the colors to pop.”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, I get it. It just didn’t occur to me. So I rolled up to get my first tattoo—like I said, slightly drunk—watching the needle as he worked on the design. Then I got lightheaded, saw spots, and barely managed not to pass out until he was done…but it wasn’t the best experience.”

“Wow, that’s a lot. No wonder you don’t have more,” he said.

Not you’re a massive wuss which was what Buck said. Remembering that she’d let that asshole have any control over her pissed her off. He was a jerk. Why hadn’t she been able to see it when she’d been dating him and trying so hard to make him happy? Why would she want that guy to like her?

“What about you? Any tats?”

“Yes. I thought you’d noticed it,” he said, sitting up and twisting his leg so she could see the back of his left calf where there was a… What was that ?!

“Yosemite Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“Big fan?” she asked sitting up, crossing her legs as she looked at the design. It was pretty nice, but huge. It took up most of the back of his calf. She was surprised she hadn’t noticed it before, but to be fair when he was naked her eyes were usually on his chest, or his ass, or his dick.

“Um…well I have one video that my dad made for me and it’s him talking about the stuff he wants to show me when I’m older. And one of them was Looney Tunes, especially Yosemite Sam. So when I was twenty-one I got drunk and decided to go and get the tattoo.”

Leaning forward she traced her hand over the hat and the two .45s that were pointed up in the character’s hands. “It’s really big.”

He flushed and shook his head. “Yeah, turns out I’m not great with knowing what size a quarter is.”

“What did you think?”

“Five inches.”

She started laughing. “I’m bad with numbers but not that bad.”

He grimaced. “Most of the time no one can see it but in summer, I get all kinds of comments.”

“I can see why,” she said. “But I think it’s sweet. Like you have something special with your dad.”

He grew quiet for a minute, then leaned against the back of the couch. “Do you have anything with yours?”

“No. Nothing. He left us when I was six.”

“What a dick move. You know that has nothing to do with you,” Jasper said.

“I don’t know, he’s never reached out and I never saw him again. At this point I’m good,” she said. And she was. Or at least she tried to be. Closure wasn’t always possible.

He pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” she said. Because what else was she going to say?

That she was sorry too? It hurt that she didn’t have two parents that cared for and loved her the way other kids had when she’d been in school.

But now that she was an adult, she had to grow up.

“It really wasn’t a big deal, except for in fifth grade during the daddy-daughter dance.

I really didn’t miss having him around.”

“Did you have to skip the dance?”

“No. My mom took me. Told the school they were being discriminatory. There were other parents, not just us that objected. Some same-sex parents also didn’t like daddy-daughter or mommy-son. So they changed it to parents and kids. Actually, it turned out really nice.”

Her mom could be too much and push too hard, but Kirsty wanted to be fearless the way she was. When her mom saw something that wasn’t right she spoke up.

“Sounds like it. We didn’t have anything like that at my school,” Jasper said.

“I’m not sure that they do it everywhere.

We were living in the Midwest at the time in a suburb of Chicago,” she said, remembering that rented town house that had been so different from the big house they had in Florida when she was really little.

It had snowed in October right before Halloween and she’d been entranced.

Never having seen snow before, it was magical and she’d wished that they would stay there forever.

But they hadn’t. Her mom had to take different jobs to move up the corporate ladder and they moved once again back to the South, and then again to Texas. Her childhood had been a bunch of restarts.

Which was probably why she’d bought that duplex and given the other half to her mom. They both had a permanent home now. Her mom still traveled a lot for work but Kirsty had someplace of her own. And her mom was never far away.

Jasper was quiet, watching the fire and lost to his own thoughts.

She appreciated it because once she started thinking about her past, thoughts of the future crept in.

A future that was unsettled until she figured out her own possible abilities as a medium and why Paul lingered on.

Otherwise this television spot, and potentially her career, were dead on arrival.

Also, now there was Jasper.

She’d told herself it was safe to sleep with him. They were only in each other’s lives for a short while. It felt like that longing to stay in the Midwest had when she first sat in the window and watched the snowfall.

Like a new start. Something different.

* * *

It was just too easy to talk to her about his dad. The stuff that he normally didn’t bring up. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out that most people didn’t know how to react when he said his dad died the night he was born.

But with Kirsty it didn’t feel odd. Maybe it was because she hadn’t known her dad either.

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Lots of stuff. Sports especially.”

He doubted that.

“I bet you’re better than you think,” he said.

“Doubt it. Obviously you’re great at them, right?”

He shrugged, and she immediately resettled on his shoulder.

“I’m alright. It’s not really about being good for me.

After working at the studio all day and in my office I need to move.

Otherwise I get cranky. I run and work out at the gym.

Sometimes I play basketball in a league with some other shows that shoot in the Chicago area. ”

Physical exercise really kept his mind clear, helping with his mental health on days when he battled being overwhelmed. He liked being outside and around other people but with his job and Paul sometimes he wanted to hide away.

“I walk. Somedays the words aren’t flowing. And you might not know this about me, but I’m stubborn.”

“What? Really? I’d never have—”

“Enough,” she said, mock-punching him.

“How does that play into your writing?” he asked. He enjoyed hearing her share her writing process. There was no way he could do anything creative. She looked so excited to talk about her process.

“I just make myself sit there while the timer is on… I write in twenty-five-minute sprints. And then finally I admit it’s not working and go for a walk. There’s something almost magical about moving your body.”

“Especially when I move mine with yours,” he said.

She gave him a disappointed look, sticking her tongue out at him. “I was being serious.”

He had been too. Magic was the best way to describe it.

“So you walk and then things sort themselves out?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s like once I’m outside all of the parameters I’d been putting on my story are gone. I might see someone’s dog being naughty and running away from them or kids tossing a ball and bam! Different things spark ideas.”

“That’s funny. I never notice people when I’m running, other than as an obstacle I’m going to have to navigate around.” His head was clear when he was out which was nice since he was always overthinking everything.

“Makes sense, you’re out there for a different reason. I’m just trying to refill the well and force my mind into finding some new pathways,” she said around a yawn.

“Getting sleepy?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to head up yet,” she said, her hand kneading his thigh.

He didn’t want that either. Should he ask her to come to his bedroom? Of course, Chewie liked to sleep with him so Kirsty might not like that.

And… What if she said no? What if he made things awkward between them?

“I like this,” she said.

“Me too.” Whatever she meant by this . “I guess we should think about heading to bed. We have that physics class tomorrow and I think we’re getting closer to figuring out what’s going on with Paul.”

“Yeah. The class should help us a bit. Maybe we can figure out why he’s tied to this book at least.”

Do you want to sleep with me? The words were right there.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Uh…sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” he admitted.

“It’s okay. It’s late. We can talk about it tomorrow. Thanks for tonight,” she said as she got to her feet. “I’m going to keep your shirt for now.”

“Fine by me,” he said, gathering up their clothes after he banked the fire. Her insisting on keeping his shirt to wear to bed so casually was intensely hot. “Want to sleep with me?”

The words just slipped out as she waited for him, chewing her lower lip between her teeth. He knew the answer before she spoke.

“I’m not…”

“It’s okay. Chewie snores and likes to climb into the bed anyway,” he said, turning off the lights and joining her in the hallway. It had been a nice night. Why had he done that? He should have let things alone.

What would it take for her to let him in? To allow him into her life? She probably saw him as just an annoying guy with a ghost, the dude she slept with, a temporary friend on this weird journey.

He was working himself up as they climbed the stairs to the second floor. She was staying in the converted attic and paused at the foot of those stairs. “It’s not you, okay.”

Yeah. Right.

* * *

If she needed proof that one-night stands were the only way to go, here it was. He asked her to sleep with him. How much more romance movie could life get than that. Except she’d never slept with anyone. She’d always had her own bed and always went home alone after sex.

What would it be like? She was a restless sleeper and had atrocious morning breath. These were all things that she was guessing Jasper hadn’t considered.

Right now he looked at her with those wounded eyes and she wanted to walk back her no. Normally she could give two craps if she upset someone else but this wasn’t normal. Not one damned thing since she’d gone to the Dead Boys concert had been normal.

It wasn’t like she’d subtly been asking for change in her life. She’d spent a lifetime dealing with the chaos that was change and had finally— finally —gotten to the point where she had a routine and safety.

People totally underestimated how much someone who’d lived a nomadic life desperately craved normality.

“I’ve never slept with anyone,” she blurted out, trying to keep it at a heavy whisper. “I’m probably not good at it given how I am just in general. So it’s really not you.”

He leaned against the wall and ran his hand through that spikey, silky hair of his. What was he waiting for? There wasn’t anything else to say.

“It’s because everything with you is temporary.”

Okay. Well, fuck him. He wasn’t wrong but still, she hated being this seen. This twenty-five-year-old man-boy who told her point-blank he hadn’t figured out life yet was doing a banging job of calling out hers.

Looking straight past the kohl eyeliner and heavy fall of bangs.

Not exactly a hot mess. On the cusp of change. The kind of change that for once centered her own desires and the life she’d always wanted but never thought she’d stumble into.

“Temporary…dude, life is temporary. You know that better than anyone else,” she pointed out. It was a low blow. Fully expecting him to retaliate so she could justify turning on her heels and stalking her way up the stairs.

“You’re right. I do. But I don’t run from life. Temporary doesn’t equal meaningless or without connections. Say what you want to, but fear is something I’m very familiar with, and I know it when I see it.”

With that he entered his bedroom, leaving her alone as he prepared for bed with Chewie.

Coward . Literally that’s what he’d said to her more than once.

This just turned that harsh spotlight right back on her.

Dammit.

Just dammit.

“You can sleep in my bed,” she bit out in the loudest whisper she’d ever used. She hoped Dan and Gia were heavy sleepers and didn’t wake up.

“Oh, can I?” he asked, peering out of the doorway. He was still in his boxer briefs holding both of their other clothes in his left hand.

She was so scared and frustrated and angry.

“Yes.” All of a sudden she was afraid she might cry. That wasn’t like her. But this was Jasper and he pushed her into places she once thought she didn’t want to go.

Slowly, deliberately, he came back into the hallway. “You are…”

“Frustrating?”

“No. Confusing.”

“So, no to sleeping with me?” she asked.

“No,” he said a faint smile playing at his mouth.

Fine then.

Kissing him hard, she shook her head and stalked up the stairs, very aware of him trailing behind her every step of the way.

Her room was a mess, she wasn’t a neat person by nature. Her bed hadn’t been made and her laptop and metaphysical books lay open on its tangled covers.

He tossed their clothes on the chair in the corner while she gathered her shit and put it on the nightstand.

“I sleep on the right,” she said.

“Great. I usually just sprawl everywhere.”

Of course he did. Great big puppy dog that he was.

She flipped off the overhead light and climbed into the bed. She lay there in silence for a second before he let out the biggest sigh she’d ever heard and lifted his arm over his head. “Cuddle?”

Without a word she shifted until her head was nestled on his shoulder and her arm was draped over his chest. He let out a long breath and encased her.

The beating of his heart lulled her to sleep.