Falling For The Ghost Of You Part 8

Chapter 10.

We go in his sleek gray car. I don't know what kind of car it is-I don't care about that kind of thing-but it's totally luxurious. I sink into the seat and inhale the heady scent of leather and rich boy. The ride is ridiculously smooth. Not anything like my old Toyota, where you can feel every b.u.mp on the road.

And even the way Zane drives is s.e.xy, the casual confident way he leans back in the seat, one hand on the steering wheel. In control. Hot.

I have to admit, I'm not immune to these superficial pleasures. Riding in this incredible car with this amazing-looking guy, I kind of feel like a celebrity. It's a glamorous decadent sensation. I could totally live like this. We cruise along, listening to a cla.s.sic rock station, smiling at each other, and talking about what kind of music we like. Zane says he listens to old rock, like Metallica and Led Zeppelin; I tell him I like mostly anything, from songs in the Top 100, to Broadway musicals. He doesn't even make fun of me for liking the McPigs, a folksy little L.A. band. I play one of their quirkier songs for him on my phone, and he asks to hear more.

We end up at a cool little restaurant right across the street from the beach. It's decorated to look like an old beach house, with bright yellow shutters. I love the circle windows everywhere.

"This place has the best cinnamon rolls," Zane says as I slide into the booth. He waits until I'm seated, then sits on the other side.

"Really? How's their clam chowder?" I pick up one of the colorful menus and look it over.

Yikes! Their prices are crazy! Over twenty bucks for a dinner plate-please!

"I don't know, I don't like seafood. The pasta is good, though." He leans forward and taps the pasta section on the menu.

I squint at the choices, then my eyes widen. "One hundred and eighty-one dollars for a plate of spaghetti?!"

"What? That can't be right."

"That's what it-oh, the extra one came off!" I hold up my finger to show him the slight back smudge on it.

To my utter shock, Zane grabs that finger and rubs his thumb over the mark until it disappears. Then he wipes his hand on a napkin. "I've been to two hundred dollars a plate restaurants before, and this ain't it," he says, balling the napkin up and tossing it on the table.

It takes me a while to find my voice again. I put my hands in my lap and force a casual smile to my lips. "So, what are you getting?"

"Chicken," he replies, without having looked at the menu. "You?"

"I think I'll get a bowl of clam chowder."

Zane raises an eyebrow. "That's it? I thought you were hungry."

Yeah, until you started in with the casual touching. Now I'm freaking out!

Out loud, I say, "I had a big lunch at work."

The waitress finally comes by to take our order. She seems to recognize Zane, and greets him warmly. I might as well not be there. Zane has to tell her my order because even though I say "a bowl of clam chowder" at least three times, she continues to ignore me. That really irritates me!

So, it may or may not have been an accident when she trips over my foot. I think I have anger issues.

After our orders are taken, Zane turns back to me. "So, how was work?"

Feeling strangely nervous, I start babbling about my day. I even tell him about the magnet "v.a.g.i.n.a" mix-up. That makes him laugh, and I feel like the wittiest person ever. He's a good listener. Even when our food comes, he doesn't take his eyes off of me.

"So, what about your job?" I ask him. "Do you like being a software engineer?"

He's slouched back in the booth, one arm resting along the top, and the other hand holding his gla.s.s of water. He keeps swirling the ice around, then staring into the gla.s.s.

"It's a job," he says with a shrug. "The good thing about working for Cronus is they allow me a lot of freedom to develop my own projects."

"Oh," I say inanely. "Uh, how's it going with the one you're working in on now?"

"Finished it last week," he says with a smile. I'm relieved he doesn't go into detail about it because I would be so lost.

"So does that mean you're going back to L.A.?"

"Nope. As far as work is concerned, I'm still figuring out the bugs. How's your clam chowder?"

Of course he waits until I have a huge bite of bread in my mouth to ask me. "Good," I choke out.

He laughs. "Make sure you leave some room for the cinnamon rolls."

I groan. "No way! I'm too stuffed."

"So we take them home." Zane drops his fork on his plate, and squints over at me. "How do you feel about scary movies?"

"Love 'em," I say promptly.

"I got a copy of 'House of Bone and Blood.' Wanna see it?"

My eyes widen in disbelief. "That doesn't come out for two weeks. How do you have a copy of it already?"

"I know a guy who knows a guy," he replies casually. "Do you want to watch it, or not?"

"Yeah!" I shout enthusiastically. Then I pause uncertainly. "With you?"

"Yeah, with me. You got an objection to that?" he asks teasingly.

"Well, that depends. I like watching scary movies in the dark," I say. I take a sip of my iced tea. "I don't know, it might be too...intense for you."

What? I'm not flirting, I'm being playful, in a strictly platonic way.

Zane tilts his head to the side, amused. "Oh, really, little girl? Maybe you'll be too afraid to sit next to me in the dark."

The way he says it, with that rough s.e.xy voice of his is so...hot! Is he flirting?

I pretend to sneer while my heart bangs crazily against my chest. "Yeah, right," I say to both him and myself. "Just don't jump like a girl at all the scary parts."

"I'll try not to." He grins and motions the waitress over. She's comes a-running. "Let's get out of here."

Zane orders two cinnamon rolls to go, then pays for it all, despite my protests. When I try to argue, he just gives me a look. I know it's not a date, and he was just being nice, but still. I can't help the giddy feeling that washes over me.

Or maybe he knows I wasn't going to tip that horrible waitress.

On the way home, we discuss favorite movies. We're both surprised to discover that we like many of the same ones because they're mostly older ones: "The Princess Bride," "Big Trouble in Little China," and "Boondock Saints" to name an eclectic few. I love movies, almost as much as books. I could talk about them all day, and I can't believe Zane seems to feel the same way. I would think he'd be too busy charming the pants off girls to go to many movies. When I tell him that, he just grins and says he can do both at the same time. Then I mutter something about p.o.r.n.

"Have you ever watched p.o.r.n?" he asks curiously, glancing at me when he should be watching the road.

"No!" I say quickly, blus.h.i.+ng. "Only guys do that."

Zane chuckles. His gaze switches back and forth, from me to the road. "How old are you again, Violet?"

"Seventeen," I snap. "Why?"

"Sometimes you act much older, but then sometimes you seem so innocent."

I frown down at the warm bag of cinnamon rolls on my lap. I know he really means "naive," but I don't know what I said that would make him think that. Heck, I even said "v.a.g.i.n.a" in front of him. I guess if he's comparing me to the women he knows, then I probably do seem innocent. I don't see that as a bad thing-does he?

When we get back to the pool house, Zane goes in his room to get the movie, and I pop the cinnamon rolls in the microwave and close all the blinds. With the day already being cloudy and rainy, it gets to be pretty dark in the house. Perfect.

"I hear this movie's pretty intense," Zane says, coming into the room. "You sure you don't want a light on?"

I roll my eyes. "Uh-huh. Don't come running into my room when you get nightmares."

He smirks back. "Don't worry, little girl. The last place I'd run to is your room."

He puts the movie in the player while I glare at his back. What the h.e.l.l does that mean? Is he trying to imply that he finds me repulsive?

I stomp into the kitchen to grab the cinnamon rolls. Oh, my G.o.d, they smell heavenly, all gooey and soft-looking. I stick them on separate plates and carry them into the living room.

Zane is sprawled on the couch. I hand him his plate then plop down on the recliner with my treat.

"What's up, Mercer? Why are you sitting way over there?"

"Because," I sigh. "It's comfortable."

Zane pats the cus.h.i.+on right next to him. "So is the couch. Come on. What if I get scared? You'll have to hold my hand."

I hesitate. I don't want him to think it's a big deal, but I know I won't be able to concentrate on the movie if I'm sitting right beside him.

Ultimately, I can't pa.s.s up the opportunity to be closer to him. So I shrug and get up. I casually plop down a few careful inches away from him.

He smells so good! That freshly cleaned laundry scent mixed with soap does funny things to my insides. I clamp my legs together to keep them from bouncing nervously.

To take my mind off his nearness, I take a bite of my cinnamon roll. My eyes automatically close in delight.

"Oh, my G.o.d," I mumble, my mouth full of edible heaven.

"Right?" Zane says, enjoying my reaction.

"It's so good!"

For a minute, I forget Zane is there. I am loving this cinnamon roll. It practically melts in my mouth, all that golden gooeyness overwhelming my senses. Yum!

I lick my sticky fingers afterwards, savoring every last bit. I've got my thumb in my mouth when I happen to glance over and catch Zane watching me intently.

My thumb comes out with an embarra.s.sing popping noise. "I'm so sorry you had to see that," I murmur shame-facedly.

"Not a problem. Here, take mine, too."

I laugh and shake my head. "Just start the movie."

He continues to look at me instead. "I think I'd rather watch you eat."

I smack him on one rock hard bicep. Chuckling, he presses the remote and the movie starts.

I have been dying to see this movie. The trailer for it looked awesome, and it's getting really good online buzz.

But as the movie opens with a pan of creepy house, I find myself barely paying attention. I can't stop staring at Zane's profile, trying to search for any flaws, but there really is none. I marvel that it was just the luck of the draw that he was born with that perfect face.

Well, that and a good gene pool.

"Eyes on the movie, Violet," Zane murmurs, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

Blus.h.i.+ng furiously, I whip my head forward. I can't believe he caught me staring! Again.

Mentally scolding myself, I focus on the movie, and not on the gorgeous guy sitting next to me in the dark. I tuck my legs under me, and prepare to be terrified.

Okay, so the movie is about this family who moves into a creepy old house. Strange things begin to happen, culminating in the disappearance of their six month old baby. The teenage daughter does some research and discovers the house belonged to a satanic cult leader. Rumor has it that he built the house using the blood and bones of his followers.

The story's been done before, but the special effects are awesome. There are plenty of jump-worthy moments-especially when the girl gets sucked into another dimension in the house to find her baby brother.

It's totally creepy. I keep thinking there is something lurking behind the couch, waiting to claw my brain out. I want to turn the light on, but I can't, not after I made a big deal about how brave I supposedly was.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye. He appears engrossed in the movie, smiling a little-even at the scary parts.

If he were my boyfriend, he'd have his arm around me, and I wouldn't be scared at all.

Ugh, get those thoughts out of your head, Violet!

I was doing so good-up until the end. The girl and her brother had just returned from the evil dimension, and was safe back home. I totally didn't see it coming when b.l.o.o.d.y hands suddenly popped out of the wall and yanked her backwards, back into their dimension.

So I jump and scream a little, pressing back into the couch. Zane turns to look at me, eyebrows raised.

"You okay, Violet?" he asks with a teasing grin.

"I'm fine," I say quickly, standing up. "I just thought I saw a spider."

"A spider, huh?"

There's a sudden chirping noise, making me jump again. Zane checks his phone. He frowns down at it, then tosses it on the cus.h.i.+on beside him.

"Wow," I say, eager to change the subject. "That's the first time I've seen you with a phone. I just realized, that's weird."