Page 23 of Savored Sins
Lydia: You sure you’re okay with Zeke filming this thing at your place?
Autumn: Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?
Lydia: I don’t know… Just… you know how he is.
Autumn: It’s gonna be fine. He knows not to mess with me.
Lydia: Okay…
The doorbell rings at exactly eight o’clock. As I open the door and see Zeke standing there, a tripod under one arm and a camera around his neck, I feel a little nervous. I’ve been telling myself it’s because we’re about to meddle with whatever spirit’s been roaming around my house, but I think there’s something else to it.
Something more to do with Zeke.
Because when he strides into my house, looking up and down the halls like he owns the place, and drops his stuff in a heap on the kitchen island, my stomach’s doing little flips. I keep thinking back to the last time Zeke was inside my house—that night he came to my door with his hair all sexed-up and his forearm leaning on the doorframe, brazen and completely irreverent. If you’d told me that night that in less than a week I’d be going naked swimming with that kid, I’d have laughed in your face.
But here we are.
And I’ve got to knock it off. There’s a ghost in my house, and I need to bepresent.
“You good with the living room?”
I snap to attention, my thoughts jerking back to Zeke as he unpacks his camera. “Huh?”
He grins, fiddling with the camera lens. “Get your mind out of the gutter, hot stuff. I’m clothed, and we’ve got work to do.”
“Oh, please. Youwishmy mind was in the gutter,” I say, one hundred percent aware of how totally lame I sound.
He eyes me, a sly smile on his lips. “You’re not wrong there. Anyway—living room?”
“Actually…” I begin, suddenly aware that this is—I don’t know—kind of serious? I’ve never been on a ghost hunt, if that’s what you call this. I don’t know anything about how this stuff works, but if we’re going to make contact with a ghost, I want to be dialed in. I want to make this count. “Most of the activity I’ve been hearing has been from the upstairs guest room.”
Zeke cocks his head. “Guest room, huh? Alright, let’s check it out. Lead the way.”
As he follows me up the stairs, I’m annoyed to find myself wondering if he’s staring at my ass. I mean, this is Zeke Holloway we’re talking about—ofcoursehe’s staring at my ass.I’m just annoyed at myself for kind of hoping he likes what he sees.
“Meh,” Zeke says, surveying the guest room. “Not as cool as the living room. That fireplace is kick ass, man. Let’s film down there.”
“But what if the ghost doesn’t show up down there?”
Zeke throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, she’ll show up. I can already hear her whispering—yes,her—so she willdefcome around as soon as we ask to make contact. I’m honestly a little surprised I haven’t caught a glimpse of her yet.”
“Yeah?” I ask. “How does that work? Like, I figured you couldseeghosts—not just kiss or fuck or whatever you do with them on camera—but are they just like, floating around all the time?”
“Yes and no.” Zeke rubs his jaw. “For me, they show up when they want to. Some ghosts love attention and want to be seen all the time, so they’ll show up for me almost constantly. Which honestly getsold. There’s this one that hangs around by the post office, for example, who I figured out always wants me to compliment her freaking shoes. Like, how many times do I have to say, ‘Your heels look dope, lady!’”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing, because I’m pretty sure Zeke is dead serious right now. And even though it sounds funny to an outsider—to someone who can’t see any of the stuff he sees—it probablydoesget old.
“Well, can’t you just ask her why she’s so hung up on her shoes? Maybe there’s some underlying thing you could help her with.”
Zeke sighs. “Yeah, so that’s the other thing. I can’t talk to ‘em. I mean, I can talktothem, but they don’t speak out loud—they only do this whispery thing to let me know they’re there. And I didn’t get whatever gene it is that lets you hear their voices in your head. Blessing and a curse, I guess.”
“Wait, so can Will do that?”
“Nope.” Zeke looks smug. “Neither can Phoebe. We can all four see them, but only Benji can hear them. He’s thechosen one.” He brings his palms together in mock prayer position, rolls his blue eyes upwards.
“Really? Why him?”
“Now, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Zeke’s eyes glimmer. “But really—we have no clue. Just how it worked out.”
