Love, Like Ghosts: A Bay City Paranormal Investigations Story

T-shirt.
Adrian had planned to work on his math paper before going to bed. The sight of Greg in his bed changed his mind. He set his alarm for an hour early the next morning, brushed his teeth and changed, and crawled under the covers with Greg instead. Greg curled into Adrian’s embrace, his back molded to Adrian’s chest and their legs tangled together. Adrian hooked an arm around Greg’s waist and breathed in the familiar scent he’d missed so terribly.
I love you , he mouthed into the bend of Greg’s neck. Maybe one day soon he could speak the words out loud. Maybe he’d even hear them in return.
Warmed by the thought, Adrian closed his eyes and let the rhythm of Greg’s breathing lull him to sleep.

Chapter Eighteen
    Adrian waited until Saturday to broach the subject of visiting Groome Castle. Partly because he wanted a time when he could communicate with Lyndon without worrying about classes, but mostly because waiting put five days of distance between Greg’s assault and the need to have the Lyndon conversation with him.
Of all the things they needed to talk about, Adrian dreaded that one the most.
    He made cheese omelettes for breakfast, then took the plunge while they were still sitting at his table sipping their coffee. “Greg, I have something I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Uh-oh. That sounds serious.” Greg set his mug on the table, his expression wary. “What is it?”
Adrian rubbed both thumbs nervously over the Bellingrath Gardens logo on his mug. “Well, I hope it isn’t. The thing is, on Monday night when you came over here, I had just found a major clue to Lyndon Groome’s death, and I was thinking that maybe I’d go over to the castle today and…you know, talk to Lyndon. See if I could find out if what I learned could possibly be true.”
Greg gazed at him in thoughtful silence. Adrian drew a deep swallow of coffee, then another, and tried not to fidget. Finally, Greg leaned forward, a determined look in his eyes. “I want to come with you.”
Of all the responses Adrian had imagined, that hadn’t been one of them. He gaped at Greg in astonishment. “You… What? Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you had play practice today.” Greg had landed the role of Fiyero in the school’s upcoming production of Wicked , and he’d spent at least a portion of most days lately at practice.
“Not today. We only have the theater for half the day and the director wants the chorus to spend that time working on a couple of numbers I’m not in.” Greg bit his lip. “If I’d be in your way, I’ll stay here. It’s just, I feel like there’s things I never knew existed before now, you know? Like, I had no idea there was any such thing as psychokinesis, but you can do that, you can really do it. I’ve seen it and felt it. I know it’s real. So if that’s real, maybe I’ve been wrong about ghosts and stuff all this time too. And if that’s the case, then I want to be there when you talk to a real ghost and find out how he died.”
Shock gave way to a warmth like nothing Adrian had ever felt. A wide smile spread across his face. “Of course you can come with me. And no, you will not be in the way.” Grabbing Greg’s face in both hands, Adrian surged forward and kissed him hard. “You’re amazing.”
Greg laughed. “I’m not. I just have enough sense to admit when I’m wrong. At least sometimes.” He returned Adrian’s kiss with extra tongue. “Let’s get dressed and go now. Can I do anything to help, or should I just hang back and be quiet?”
“Honestly? I have no idea. I’ve only ever done this alone. But I promise to tell you if there’s anything I think you can do.” Adrian stood and began gathering the breakfast dishes. “Come on. It’ll only take us a minute to get this cleaned up.”
Greg hopped to his feet. Within fifteen minutes, the two of them had the kitchen clean and themselves showered and changed. They left the apartment and headed hand in hand for Groome Castle.
“So what’s this clue you’re chasing?” Greg asked as they strolled down the sidewalk.
“There was a short piece I found in the November second edition of the Chapel Hill paper. It said a man named Cassius Wellington accused Lyndon’s uncle, Lionel, of murdering Lyndon during a Halloween party at the castle.” Adrian squinted up at the bright blue sky. The weather had turned unseasonably warm, and he was glad. It was still chilly, but not the bone-numbing cold it had been lately,