Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52976 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 177(@300wpm)
“Westley.”
“Right. Your stupid parasite roommate.” He goes for my neck again. I press my back against the window, overcome. “So where do we look for him …?”
“I don’t know. Maybe we should start in the street where he last was,” I propose, truly still considering us staying here and exploring each other’s bodies until the tea wears off. Can’t Mrs. Shaheen just whip up some more for us if it does? “But it’s super crowded. He’s had all day out there, lost and alone.”
“Fuck it,” he says, then grabs hold of me, brings me to the floor, and crawls over my body. “Let’s just do it fast. I can’t concentrate on anything else.”
“B-Byron …”
My pants are off. So are his.
When did that happen?
Soon, I have no fight left in me. I can’t stop making out with Byron as he reaches down between our bodies and starts to jerk me off. I grab hold of his cock and do the same as we assault each other’s mouths. Pleasure is rocketing through me at an alarming rate. Am I having an orgasm already? Is this whole experience like one long, endless orgasm?
“You two better not be fucking.”
The words stop us both. We turn our heads toward the source of those words: Mrs. Shaheen on the couch, still thumbing lazily through her phone.
She crosses her legs with a sigh. “I hope you boys have left the apartment by now, because if you’re both humping each other like bunnies right now, you might as well kiss Griffin’s life goodbye.”
I frown.
Byron swallows guiltily.
“The door is still closed,” she announces, “as is the window. Take your pick. They should be easy enough to move, since you’re not truly dead. Don’t mind me. I can’t see or hear you anyway.” She chuckles suddenly at her phone. “Silly little kitty. Why’d you do that? You couldn’t make that jump. Aww, silly little kitty.”
The pair of us gently let go of one another (it takes an incredible amount of effort and willpower) and rise from the floor. I hand him his pants. He hands me mine. As I zip up, I head to the window and consider it for a moment, remembering how difficult it was to open for West, who always complained. When I bring my fingers to the latch, I feel a strange tickle in my chest as I try to unlock it. Byron watches, curious. Then before I know it, the thing clicks open with surprising ease, and I’m able to slide the window up.
“There you go, horny boys,” says Mrs. Shaheen, who doesn’t even look up from her phone to confirm that what she’s hearing is the window opening. “Now out you go. Find the demon. Get your soul back.”
I frown. “He’s not a demon.”
She responds with a yawn—which I realize is likely not a response at all, since she can’t hear me.
Is this what Westley felt all the time when he was a ghost? Present, but unseen and unheard?
Is that what we are right now?
Ghosts?
Byron is already out on the fire escape full of plants when I turn back around. His eyes grow double as he gazes down at the street. “Wow. So many people …”
I join him outside and stare downward. Everything feels far away and swimmy, like reality itself is made of mist. Any gust of wind can cause the bricks of buildings to dance or the road itself to undulate in dizzying waves.
“We need to get your soul back,” Byron tells me, his voice full of authority. “I don’t care if there is a sea of screaming Mona Lisas down there. We’re going into that sea of madness, capturing West, and not letting go until he lets go of your sexy little soul.”
I swallow hard as I stand on the edge of the fire escape, peering down at the crowd. A sea of madness, he called it. That’s exactly what it looks like: an ocean of countless pale, murmuring heads, whispering and wailing unintelligibly. Standing here, I suddenly wonder if this is what West was seeing before he died.
“Can we die?” I ask, the thought puncturing every other one. “While we’re like this? Can we die?”
Byron comes to my side. “I don’t know.”
“What if we encounter bad ghosts? What if they can, like, claw at our spirit forms? Like a cat tearing up the upholstery of a couch? Or—”
“Let’s leave the crazy cat banter to Mrs. Shaheen,” suggests Byron.
“Good idea.”
Byron takes my hand, then gazes at me. “Our ‘spirit forms’? Is that what we are right now?”
“I don’t know.” I nod toward the stairs. “How about we go find out?”
Byron puts a quick kiss on my lips. For a moment, we teeter on the verge of giving in to our manic hunger for one another again. But we’re strong, and the two of us simply gaze into each other’s eyes, encourage our respective resolves, and head to the stairs hand-in-hand.