The Colorful Tragedies of You and I (editing)

Twelve: Jack and Sydney

Chapter Twelve

Jack's POV

I get out of my car and stare at the apartment building, in front of me. I feel like a child who gets drag around everywhere. Why did I even agree to this?

"Do I have to?," I whine to Finn, who is right beside me. A lady who was walking by looks at me weirdly but I ignore it.

"Be a man. Get the girl, " he says firmly.

"You can't force love," I point out.

"I'm not forcing it," he argues. "You agreed to this."

"Only for you to shut up." I climb the stairs of the building. When I got to the third step, I turn around. Finn is gone.

But when I turn back, he was already at the door, waiting for me.

"Will you please go faster?," Finn demands. "We're burning daylight."

I roll my eyes at him, "You're not the one who is about to ask a girl on a date."

Finn raises his eyebrows, "You didn't say anything about a date."

I widen my eyes, "I mean to hang out."

I don't actually know what to label of what I was going to ask Sydney to. Hang out was just too much of a friendly and shallow way. I don't want to give away immediately that I think of her more than a friend but I don't want her to get the impression that I just wanted to be friends either. Hell, I only met her for like one day and I'm already at her door.

"Uh huh," Finn nods. "Sure you do."

I resume climbing the stairs. When I reach the door, I look at the doorbells beside it. Almost pressing Olivers, I stop myself.

"Jack," Finn whines. "Don't leave me with a cliff hanger."

"Wait. How am I going to explain why I know her place?," I ask, raising my eyebrows, slightly hoping that we'll cancel the whole thing.

Finn bites his lip, his eyes turning to the concrete ground. His eyebrows gathering at his forehead. Finally, he looks up. The thinking expression gone from his face and replaced by a thoughtful one.

"She told me where she lived at the coffee shop," Finn says, enthusiastically. "You know, before I died."

I wonder why he wasn't so affected like I was when it comes to his death. It's just like a typical thing for him. Like it was like getting coffee from Starbucks, like it changed nothing. And I still don't know how he does it.

"No wonder you two clicked," I muttered. "You immediately give away your numbers, your addresses, and maybe almost every personal thing to each other and you only met for one day."

Finn ignores what I said and instead rings the doorbell himself.

"You can do that?," I ask, a bit fascinated by the whole ghost thing. "Why didn't your finger like passed through the button?"

Finn just shrugs, "I don't know. I'm just starting to figure out all these ghostly things."

"Tell me about it," I think.

The door suddenly opens, revealing a young lady who had glasses on, her hair in a ponytail.

"I'm sorry," I utter, convinced that Finn got Sydney's address wrong. "I thought Sydney Olivers lived here. I'm sorry for-

She cuts me off, a smile on her face. "No, no. Sydney's my cousin. She's upstairs if you want to talk to her," she says, her accent American, like Sydney.