Perception (Apparition Investigations #1)

Case #1: Villanova Apartments: Part 7

"You never mentioned him before," Bronte said. "I thought tonight was supposed to be a girls' night?"

"I said that because I didn't want to two of you to ambush him or anything." Her face took on a slightly pink hue and she looked away, her posture relaxing. "And ok, yes, I do know that neither one of you has ever ambushed anyone I've dated before, but I just didn't want to risk it, you know? I really like this one. A lot." Her blush deepened.

Then, with a thought, her anger snapped back. She straightened, towering once again, as she addressed us with venom. "That's why I pushed this girls' night so hard. Because I told Noah that I wanted the three of you to meet. And what happens? We get to the restaurant and neither one of you show. I can't get a hold of you, either one of you, and I'm sitting there thinking you're both wrapped around a pole or something." Her voice waivered at the end.

She let out a shaky breath. "So I insisted we drive over here. And what do I find? You blew me off for a séance."

Bronte grabbed my arm, her fingers digging in. "A—a what?"

Rose waved at the Ouija board still on the ottoman. "What? Did you watch the Conjuring one too many times or something?"

My eyes were fixed on the board. We'd sent the invisible ghosts away, yeah, but we'd left the stupid board out plain as day. Idiots.

With an annoyed shake of her head, Rose marched past us to the front door.

"Wait—" Bronte called out, following her. "Rose, we're sorry, please don't—oh."

Rose yanked the front door open to reveal a man standing on the other side. He looked cold without a coat on, rubbing his hands together. The yellow light from the entry accented his stylish blonde hair and made his green eyes flash.

That's when I noticed what he was wearing. A loud red, yellow, and blue plaid button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up (thank God it wasn't tucked in), with khakis and boat shoes.

Bronte and I exchanged a quick look. A frat boy? Our bohemian queen was out on a date with a frat boy?

And it was serious?

He strolled into the room and flashed us a well-used, suave grin. "Hello ladies—it's wonderful to meet you. My name is Noah Walker."

"Likewise," Bronte whispered on instinct, her eyes still open wide as she took in the man standing just inside our front door.

I couldn't even get my mouth to do that much.

Speechless. I was speechless.

The ghosts hadn't even left me speechless.

At that thought, I lost it. Laughter bubbled up from my gut. It pinched my sides and tickled the back of my throat. I bit down on my lip to trap it but it escaped in sharp snorts through my nose.

Noah's smile faltered. Rose shot me a glare that could have killed.

I slapped a hand over my mouth.

"She's sorry," Bronte said, stepping to my side. "She's had a very long, very exhaustive day. Please—ignore her." She moved toward Noah, her hand outstretched. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Bronte. That's Stella."

He shook her hand, his smile lighting up again. "Bronte. Rose has talked about you." He looked past her toward me. "And Stella, of course. I was warned to watch out for that forked tongue of yours."

Behind me, I heard the ghosts laugh.

Then time slowed as three things happened at once.

Rose moved toward Noah, mouth opened to say something.

Bronte's hands flew toward her mouth to cover her shocked face.

And Noah's eyes slid past me toward the bedroom door. Pulled in the way like when you hear something unexpected and you try to find the source. Instinctually.

My eyes widened.

Then his eyes slid back to meet 

Time snapped back to normal. Noah's lips pulled down into the smallest frown—a considering, if you gave him a brief glance, he still appeared to be smiling. But he was—something. Not upset, not surprised, not confused. What I saw in his eyes could have been a mixture of all three. Or something else entirely.

"No, you meant sharp tongue," Rose said, taking his hand and looking up at him with a smile. She turned back to me. "Sharp tongue, Stella. But only when you're caught off guard—I warned him it might happen considering he was supposed to show up at dinner without you knowing."

His eyes turned toward her but then fell on something behind her. On the coffee table. The Ouija board.

He stared at it. His face impassive—impossible to read.

Rose let out a nervous laugh and squeezed his hand. That jerked him from the board and he looked down at her and smiled. "See? I told you they were fine."

Rose snorted and rolled her eyes. "If you count having a séance as—"

"We weren't," I snapped.

Three sets of eyes turned to me. Two surprised. One suspicious.

"We were just goofing off," I said, aiming for nonchalance. I moved toward the board and scooped it up. I felt his eyes on me, following every move I made, watching like a hawk. It took everything I had not to panic, to act calm and composed. "You're right—I've watched the Conjuring one too many times. We just wanted to try it out. See what happened."

"I'm surprised you managed to get Bronte to go along with it," Rose said as I moved to put the board in my bedroom. She turned toward her. "I thought you hated those things."

Bronte shrugged. "I was convinced to try it."

Rose giggled and lowered her voice in mock suspense. "Did you summon anything?"

"Stella—" Noah called out as I reached for the door handle. He sounded concerned. Unsure.

I froze, my fingers tightening on the board. I turned around as casually as I could. Our eyes met. "Yes?"

His eyes moved toward the board. "Um, I'm sorry. Sharp, I meant to say. Not forked. I'll make it up to you, if you want. I'll buy dinner tonight."

"Tonight?" Bronte frowned.

"Why not? We haven't eaten yet," he said, sparing a quick glance at Rose. Then he looked back at me, his eyes shooting past and lingering on the bedroom door. "What do you say?"

Bronte answered for me. "We aren't exactly dressed for a night out," she said, looking down at her work skirt and cardigan. Then her eyes darted to my jeans and Hogwarts T-shirt. "Give us a minute to change?"

"You're fine," he snapped. Then he let loose a shaky laugh to try and lighten his tone. "You're fine. It's just dinner—I think you two look fantastic. And who doesn't love Harry Potter, am I right? But we should go now, before the late dinner crowd really sets in."

Rose and Bronte exchanged a curious look but Rose finally brightened. "You know, that sounds perfect. I am starving. And this'll give everyone a chance to get to know each other."

"Exactly," he said, giving me a tight smile. "Just drop that on the table and we can get out of here."

He didn't want me to go into the bedroom.

He knew what was in there.

He knew.

"Sure thing," I said, sliding the board onto the kitchen table just at my side. "But you're buying."

Relief washed over him. His tense, rigid posture relaxed and he slid an arm around Rose's shoulders. "Absolutely. How does Italian sound?"

"Perfect." I moved toward the front door, the only thought on my mind getting him out of the apartment. Away from Cyril and Oliver.