Page 51 of Like A Moth To A Flame

Politely, she waited for a break in the conversation, and Tommy looked over at her, one eyebrow arched and a smooth smile on his face. Amelia rocked on her heels as she spoke, and when she’d finished, Tommy chuckled. The smile on his face was soft and sweet, but when Amelia turned and walked back to the table, the frown on her lips told me everything I needed to know.

“Damn,” Amelia grumbled as she flopped down in her seat. “A swing and a miss, I guess.”

“He said no?” I asked, trying not to smile as I reached down, my nervous fingers picking the wrapper off a straw.

“Hepolitelysaid no.”

14

I can almost feel you breathing, like a whisper in my ear

Moth

Ididn’t think I’d be hungry. I’d ordered simply on impulse, and to save face, but when it finally arrived, I was ravenous. I was halfway done when Amelia had even gotten her food situated.

She gave me a look, but I ignored it. I hadn’t been eating nearly enough, especially the last few days, and now it was catching up with me. I demolished the burger and shoveled down the fries.

“Lordie, woman,” Amelia said when I wiped my mouth and dropped the crumpled napkin onto the plate. “I didn’t know this was a competition.”

I laughed.

“Sorry,” I said with a smile. “I’ve been a mess lately, so I haven’t been eating enough.”

“Speaking of,” she said, pushing a fry into her mouth. “What gives? Spill the beans, Jack.”

I sighed. I really didn’t want to talk about it in public.

“I dunno,” I said, shrugging. “Just some really weird shit has been happening.”

“Weird?” she asked, sucking a swallow from her drink. “Like ghosts?”

I shook my head.

“No, definitely not ghosts. Terrifyingly flesh and bone.”

“Then what?!” she exclaimed. “You’re giving me nothing to go on here.”

“Well, I mean…” How did I even begin to go about explaining this? “It started the night of the funeral, I guess.”

She nodded, taking a bite of her sandwich.

“When I got home, there was this weird note on the door.”

She snorted. She wasn’t taking me seriously, I could tell.

“Yeah, a note,” she said, and I could hear the sarcasm in her voice. “That’s so weird.Superscary.”

I glared at her, my eyes narrowed. I couldn’t get her to understand, because she wasn’t going through it.

“Here, just…” I reached over, grabbed my purse, and flipped it open. I could have sworn I’d stuffed the note into my purse that night. I thought, anyway. After a while of rooting around, I found it. Unfolding it, I slid it across the table to Amelia.

Narrowing her eyes and frowning, she read it and then pushed it back at me.

“I mean, it could be creepy?” she said, and she shrugged. “Or it could be nothing.”

“Well, there’s more,” I said.

How much did I tell her? Especially here? Should I tell her about last night?

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