Love, Like Ghosts: A Bay City Paranormal Investigations Story

too small to be useful for the haunted house it had ended up as the default make-out room. Some enterprising soul had even brought a futon.
Adrian’s heart thudded hard enough to make him dizzy when Greg shut the door behind them. “Um, Greg? I thought we were…I mean, tomorrow…”
Greg looked startled for a moment, then laughed. “Yeah, we are. I brought us in here because we won’t be interrupted. When this door’s closed, everybody respects that. Other rooms? Not so much.”
“Oh, okay. That makes sense.” Relief, disappointment and insistent lust overcame Adrian’s muscle control and he plopped onto the futon. Kicking off his sneakers, he curled his feet beneath him. He figured he might as well be comfortable before the fighting started. “Why didn’t you believe me, Greg?”
“Hmm.” Greg lowered himself to the futon beside Adrian. “Because there are no such things as ghosts. And because I know for a fact that you’re more than capable of creating a visual effect as good as the one I’ve been hearing about all night.”
Adrian drew a couple of slow, deep breaths and blew them out. It wouldn’t do to let his irritation get away with him. Across the room, a pile of school newspapers fluttered in an impossible breeze. “Yes, I am capable of creating that visual effect. If I had the right equipment to do it. Which I don’t, not here tonight. Besides which, I don’t lie.”
That got him a skeptical look. “Everyone lies.”
“Not me.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“Not even by omission?”
Shit . Adrian studied his hands. “That’s not exactly the same thing, is it?”
Greg shrugged. “Okay, not really.” Turning sideways, he pinned Adrian with a calculating stare. “So you say you don’t lie.”
“I don’t!”
“You say. But ghosts don’t exist, Adrian. They don’t . So where does that leave me? What am I supposed to think?”
Impotent fury swelled in Adrian’s chest. Overhead, the dim bulb buzzed and flickered behind its oldfashioned cream-colored glass shade. He shoved to his feet and walked to the other side of the room, arms wrapped around himself, his back to Greg. “You could try opening your mind a little bit and believing me.”
Behind him, Greg sighed. Cloth rustled, muted footsteps paced across the floor, then Greg’s arms slid around Adrian’s waist and Greg’s chin rested on Adrian’s shoulder. The touch brought a rush of energy that blurred Adrian’s vision and prickled over his skin. He covered Greg’s hands with his and hung on for dear life.
“I don’t think you’re a pathological liar or anything,” Greg whispered, his breath tickling Adrian’s neck. “I think you mostly do tell the truth. I think you only lied this time because you hate having the spotlight on yourself. You don’t like people noticing you. You’d rather be in the background. So instead of taking credit for that fantastic special effect, you claimed it was the ghost everybody already thought was here anyway. I don’t know why you did the effect in the first place, when we already had me playing the ghost, but whatever. I think you only lied because you’re too modest to claim the credit. But, Adrian, you deserve the credit for what you did. Can’t you see that?”
Adrian didn’t know whether to be touched that Greg wanted to see Adrian’s achievements recognized or aggravated that Greg still refused to believe him. He felt guilty for his continued anger in the face of Greg’s desire—however misguided—to give credit where he thought credit was due. But he couldn’t help it. Adrian’s childhood and adolescence had taught him the value of truth. He hadn’t been less than honest with anyone, including himself, in years. Being accused of deliberate lies now felt like a knife in the heart.
Gathering his scattered wits, Adrian broke out of Greg’s arms, spun and faced him with as much calm as he could muster. “Whatever you might think, I am not lying, for any reason. I did not create any sort of special effect tonight. What everyone saw tonight was the ghost of Lyndon Groome. Whether you believe it or not doesn’t make any difference. It’s the truth. I can’t tell you anything else. I am not going to start lying now just because the real world doesn’t fit into your mental box.”
“Adrian—”
“No, let me finish.” Adrian raked both trembling hands through his hair. “I like you. I want…I want to keep seeing you. But not if you can’t trust me to tell the