Tara Hudson

“Hours can pass like years when you wait impatiently for something, especially something you crave and dread at the same time.”

“Joshua?" I called out, a slight hitch in my voice. "Yeah?" "What do I look like to you?" He tilted his head to the side, frowning. "What do I look like to you?" I repeated urgently, afraid that if I didn't talk fast enough, I would have time to realize how absolutely, mind-bogglingly stupid I sounded. Joshua smiled. He answered me, so quietly I almost couldn't hear him. "Beautiful. Too beautiful for people not to have noticed you the other night.”

“Not the kind of unconsciousness that torments the dead, but the kind that kills the living.”

“Jillian,” I whispered, “I know you don’t know who I am. But I love your brother, and I know you do too. So . . . do you think you could wake up? Do you think you could at least try?” For far too long she gave me no response. I’d just about given up—hung my head and prepared myself for the inevitable, impossible job of comforting Joshua—when Jillian whispered back. “I guess. Since you asked so nicely.” In spite of everything, a quiet laugh escaped my lips. “Thank God. Because I have a feeling you’d be a huge pain in the ass if you died.”

“So . . . this means we’re buried in the same cemetery?” He nodded, and then the tiniest smile crept over his features. When he spoke again, his tone had lost some of its bitter edge. “More proof that we’re fated to be together, don’t you think?” “If that were the case, Eli, I’d have a whole graveyard full of choices, wouldn’t I?”

“My sense of direction would be the death of me. Metaphorically, at least.”

“See you soon,” I whispered. I bit my lip; and, in a moment of sheer abandon, I added, “I think I might . . . you know . . . love you, by the way.” “Too,” Joshua whispered back groggily. “Love.”

“I play DJ, and you tell me what you like.” “Got it,” I said with a firm nod, fighting little jitters of excitement. “And who knows? Maybe something will be familiar. As long as it’s not death metal, I think we can rule you out as a potential Satan worshiper.”

“When he squirmed away from her, I felt the strangest mix of emotions. First, I wanted to jump into Joshua’s arms and give him a series of grateful kisses—rewards for his apparent disinterest in her. Next, I wished I was substantial enough to tackle this stranger and pull out her pretty hair”

“My parents’ names are Rebecca and Jeremiah, by the way,” he whispered as I approached him. I laughed, jittery. “Got it. So even though they’ll be too busy screaming at you, and they can’t hear me anyway, I’ll at least be able to address them properly?”

“I swear I’m not imaginary.” An uncontrollable grin spread across my face. “I would know if I was imaginary, right?”

“This is my first . . . ah . . .” “Haunting?” he offered. I snorted. “Yes, this is my first haunting.” “Then I’m flattered.”

“I guess a case of nerves could survive even death”