Between Seasons (17 page)

“Huh?” he asked, staring, his jaw hanging open. He could barely think of anything except for the feel of her hands stroking his hair. It felt… freaking amazing.

“Your, uh… your hair. It’s… well, you look like every emo boy in the world.” Her grin stretched across her face.

“What’s an emo boy?”

“Oh, just… it’s a hipster.”

“Hipster?”

“Never mind.”

“Sara, what is going on? Why are you being so… and why can I feel you?” Patrick’s mind was blown, shattered into a million pieces, and each piece seemed to be shouting a different question. Maybe he was still dreaming? He’d had fantasies about Sara like this, but he had never been a ghost when she ran her fingers over the planes of his face, like she did now. He’d been a man, flesh and blood.

“Beats the Hell out of me. Are you afraid of me? You look… like you’re going to shit your pants.”

“My pants?”

“Yeah, you know, those things covering your legs?” She smirked and ran her hand over his shoulders. “And yeah, I’m convinced I’m full-on, loony bin, butterfly net nuts, but it doesn’t matter. I’m just going to ride it until someone figures it out and has me committed. I seem to be functioning fine on every other level.”

“Can I… ?” Patrick’s own hands shook as he reached for her, ignoring her confession because he had no idea what to say to that, and Sara watched in fascination as his palm drifted across the space between them.

She glanced up at him in shock as he cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb softly over her cheekbone. The feeling of her jolted up his arm. This was... unbelievable. His eyes widened further as she sighed and tilted her head, putting more pressure on his hand.

“So weird,” she mumbled. “You’re not solid.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, not entirely, anyway. You feel… well, fuzzy.”

The corners of his mouth turned up. Nothing about this moment seemed real. “Like a stuffed animal?”

She chuckled. “Uh, no. I mean, everything about you feels light, like if I push too hard, my hands will go right through you.”

He pulled his hand back. “Does it feel gross?”

Sara took his hand, their fingers twining between them. “No.”

A tense silence developed, both staring at each other. Patrick’s attention may have been on Sara’s face (and the strangeness of the entire situation), but every nerve in his body fully concentrated on the sensation of holding her hand. Something bubbled up in him, a longing years in the making. Someone was touching him.
Touching him!
It was a miracle, and in that moment he didn’t care if there was a God or if he ever got to Heaven . As far he was concerned, this was Heaven .

“I want to… that is...” Sara took another step toward him and released his hand before clearing her throat. “I feel like I know you.”

“Probably not as well as I know you.” His words came out in a rush, falling over one another in his haste to tell her… anything. “Geez, Sara, I’ve spent every day with you, getting to know everything about you. You’re everything –my whole life is you.”

Without a word, Sara rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, just once, before settling back to the floor again. Patrick’s eyes had closed of their own volition as she kissed him, and the second she finished they blinked open again in shock.

“You kissed me!” he accused, his hand immediately touching the corner of his mouth.

“Yep.” Sara smiled up at him, a giddy giggle escaping. “First time I’ve ever kissed a ghost. It was nice. Good lips.”

He pressed his tongue against the sharp point of his incisor, willing himself to wake up from this very good dream. “Well, as long as you’re insane , and I’m dreaming…” Patrick wrapped his hands gently around Sara’s hips and lowered his head to hers, angling his face to bring his lips down swiftly but firmly.

Her mouth moved with his, hands drifting up to anchor to his biceps. It was bliss… so much better than he remembered kissing when he’d been alive. The feeling of her moist lips and the little breathy sounds ; it was almost too much but definitely not enough. This time his eyes wouldn’t close because he didn’t want to miss a single moment –she was blurry this close up, and yet still insanely beautiful. His Sara, his angel.

He kissed her until she was breathless, tilting her head to the side to suck in air. Patrick’s reluctance to let her go for fear he’d wake up made him grip her even tighter. Everything felt so real, and he wanted this to last forever.

“I have questions,” she said when they broke apart.

“Yeah. Me too.”

* * * * *

CHAPTER EIGHT

The weight of Sara’s new-found ability to touch him overtook Patrick in seconds, and he retreated a few steps. This changed everything, and yet it changed nothing.

“Maybe you should sit down.” Patrick gestured toward the chair at her desk.

“Are you going to sit with me?”

He grinned wryly. “I can’t. Not unless you’re hiding a chair from my old room somewhere in the house.” Collapsing seemed like an attractive option, though; the shock of feeling her lips, of being kissed , was enough to knock him flat on his back. “I’m pretty sure my mom took all the furniture,” he added as an afterthought.

“What?” Sara cocked her head to the side, eyes questioning.

In that moment it seemed as if Sara could have been talking to a normal person –the two of them could have been any other man and woman getting to know each other, feeling each other out, except it was far from typical. There could be no courtship. No real dates.

Her hips still felt firm under his palms, and it was the only thing grounding him, the only thing keeping his brain from shorting out.

“There are… rules, I guess. Things I can and can’t do.”

“And you can’t sit?” Her eyebrows drew together, and one side of her mouth cocked up in amusement.

He smirked and rubbed his thumbs over the rough denim of her shorts. Every nerve in his body fizzled and shouted at the sensation of something new, something different.

“I can’t sit on anything that’s not original to the house,” he corrected. “Even then, if I want to lean against a wall or something, I have to concentrate on it, or I’ll fall through.”

“Hmmm. Okay. I guess that makes as much sense as anything else does.”

“I suppose.”

There was little about his life that made sense. A live person being able to hear him, let alone yank the sleeve of his shirt, seemed insane - yet that was exactly what was going on. He inhaled, slow and steady, hoping to get a grip the emotions galloping through his brain .

Her hands drifted down his arms, barely touching, stopping to circle his wrists with her thin hands; her fingers felt as feathery as a butterfly’s wings.

“What are the other rules?”

A huff of air burst out of his mouth, something between a laugh and a snort. “Damn if I know. I’ve been invisible for four decades –you’re here for a few months, and everything’s different.”

“Good different?” Sara asked, eyes wide as she leaned in closer again, brushing her nose against his.

Oh, God – her breath wafted around him, the comforting scent of cinnamon and mint strong and spicy. The intimacy of being close enough to smell her mouth made his knees weak. Other parts of him were waking, paying attention closely.

“The best kind of different,” he answered, voice just above a whisper. The indescribable softness of her lips made him forget about her breath, the rules of being dead, even his own name as she kissed him again, their teeth clanging together for a second as he threw himself into the kiss with a little too much gusto.

Sara’s mouth smiled again as he exhaled an embarrassed snigger, all the while both of them refusing to stop touching. Sara’s teeth grazed his lower lip, a quiet grunt rumbling in his throat while she nibbled softly. His mind was blown, through and through. He hadn’t had all that much experience with women, but he’d never experienced anything quite like Sara –every move she made was confident and sexy. He felt a little embarrassed in comparison, hoping he didn’t fumble like an idiot too much.

She moved her lips to the corner of Patrick’s mouth, planting a trail of kisses to his chin. Patrick’s mind re-engaged just at that time, wondering what the Hell was going on. He didn’t want to think about why Sara was all over him, especially because he loved every second of it, but it was so weird . It was too much to consider, too much to take in . The sheer joy of it demanded he do nothing other than accept the situation on faith alone. He felt as though he should dissect it, think more about the why and the how, but he didn’t want to. He just wanted it to last.

Patrick stepped away, cursing himself for not just being able to let it go. “What’s going on here?”

“Huh?” Sara released his wrists and shifted her weight impatiently.

“You kissed me.”

“Yeah, we’ve established that.”

Patrick laughed and reached for her fingers. “No, I mean, why are you… why are you okay with this? And why does this feel rushed? And why… aren’t you freaked out and running away from me?”

Sara’s lips pursed and then twitched before she smiled. “I don’t know. I… I feel close to you.”

“But you don’t know anything about me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Tell me one thing you know.”

Sara squeezed his hand, and her grin grew wider. “I know a lot. I remember every word you said that one night. I know what Ginny told me.”

“You might know the basics.”

An emotion Patrick couldn’t name passed over her face, her eyebrow raised. “Don’t forget I have all your memories. I know
you .”

“But what does that even mean? We’re not… I don’t know. I mean, I’m a ghost, Sara. I’m dead. This is in no way is normal or right, and you’re acting like I’m just some guy you like.”

“You
are
some guy I like. You’re overthinking this.”

“You’re not thinking about this enough.” He wanted to punch himself in his own head for trying to talk her out of this.

“Look… I’m not… I mean, why can’t we just hang out?”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means whatever we want it to mean.”

“I just don’t understand why you’re not scared, like you were when you saw me in the mirror or when you heard me that one time.”

“I guess the third time is a charm,” Sara joked, but the smile dimmed, and she stared at him with an anxious expression. “Do you even know what a relief this is?”

“What?”

“This. I might be hallucinating all of this – your memories, being able to see and touch you, everything – but what if I’m not?” She moved a step closer, and Patrick nearly startled at how her body heat seemed to plow into him. “If you’ve been around, you already know I have feelings for you. If this isn’t some by-product of my damaged head, this is everything I’ve been wishing for.”

He nodded. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

Patrick still wasn’t sure he was satisfied with that, but he couldn’t refuse her. He wanted this, wanted her to touch him… to love him. She’d said that one time she was half in love with him, and thanks to some screwed up cosmic coincidence, now they could really explore what that meant.

Maybe it wasn’t a just by random chance she’d moved to his house, though. What if this was part of why he hadn’t gone to Heaven? He’d explored the idea of fate, but he could never really figure out what his fate might hold or why he would matter enough. Even now, his mind raced with a million possibilities, but he couldn’t imagine what Sara had to do with anything. It would suck to finally have this chance to touch her and then have her ripped away from him. Heaven was likely really boss, but he wouldn’t give up Sara even if it meant getting his parents back and finding paradise.

“Wait.”

“Huh?” Patrick’s eyes focused on Sara’s mouth, but he had no idea what she was saying; he was too caught up in thinking about what fate and Sara might have to do with each other, and he was quickly losing himself in the idea of kissing her again .

“Just… stay right here. I’ll be right back.”

“Why?”

“I’ll be right back,” she repeated, quickly shuffling backwards and letting go of his hand.

As soon as the solid heat of her was gone from his grasp, the loss felt painful. He’d been living without her touch –anyone’s touch –forever, and now he couldn’t stand to be without out for even a second.

Sara grinned, rushing from the office. The second she was gone, Patrick’s own smile spread across his face.

Her absence gave him time to think about what he wanted to happen next. The y had a strange relationship – if that was what he could call it. She had as much as told him she wanted to at least give things a shot. At least, he thought that was what she meant.

Now that they’d kissed, there were traditions to be followed, rituals to be observed. He would give that to her… as much as he was able. He knew people still dated, went out… but had other things changed? He wanted to show up at her house and give her flowers, although their current situation sort of prohibited it to a certain extent. She deserved more than that, of course, but he would do his best, given his limitations.

“Sorry I couldn’t get dressed up,” Patrick said, gesturing to his clothes with a rueful grin when Sara flitted back into the room in a pretty dress. He’d never been particularly conscience of what he wore most days before he died –it was enough that his shirt matched his pants, and most days he wore jeans and a collared shirt from his dad’s shop anyway. At least he hadn’t been stuck for eternity in greasy jeans and a “Jack’s Garage” button-down with his name stitched above the pocket.

“What are you talking about?” Sara gingerly touched the sleeve of his shirt.

“I, uh, I want to take you out. Well, not out, exactly.” He glanced down at the floor and then immediately back up at her; the amusement on her face was obvious . “But I want us to have a real date. A first date.”

“We are living together already, you know?”

“I suppose. And I have seen you naked.” Patrick inwardly cringed; he hadn’t meant to say that – it had just popped out, and now he wished he could go back in time just a few seconds and stuff the words back in his mouth.