Page 11 of The Ghost of You

No.

Some drunk college kid, who probably had a fake ID, projectile vomited on to me. Straight upExorciststyle minus the rotating head. It was like the vomit just did not stop. It landed on my stomach, splashed up into the low-cut V of my branded t-shirt, and seeped into the denim of my shorts.

My boss gave me a new t-shirt, the one I had on went directly in the trash but my Polish shower in the woman’s bathroom did not get rid of the stench and the grime of puke. Not to mention my shorts are probably stained green from the adult-child puke. I could kill for a shower right now. Oh right, I have no water!

I get out of my car and slam the door. I am seeing red. I could kill my landlord for being so damn nonchalant over the water situation. I walk around the front of my car and drop my water bottle on the ground. It rolls down the hill of my driveway.

Since I don’t believe in littering, I chase after it to pick it up. I am not paying attention to anything considering it’s four in the morning on a Saturday and the only people awake at this hour are damn drunks. I lunge for it before it hits the street and run straight into a hard chest.

Noah.

“Whoa there,” he says as he grabs a hold of my shoulders keeping me from falling on my ass. “You okay?”

I nod. “Just was trying to do my part to save the planet,” I say, gesturing to the water bottle on the ground.

He scrunches his nose. “Isn’t that why you use reusable containers?”

“I was at work. They tend to disappear when I bring them.”

He nods like he understands. “That would explain the smell then.”

My face must contort into a monster-like fear. “I—ugh—”

“Rough night? Mine was a mess of drunks too.”

I forget that he sees all the drunks after I serve them. I can only hope I am not the reason someone gets a DUI. Of course, I’m not the one that tells them to drive after drinking. Strong believer in Uber here.

“Halloween. It brings out the alcoholic in all of us.”

He grins. “Too bad tonight was just the prologue to the real deal.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” I say as I smash my hand to my forehead. “I can’t deal with it. Tonight was bad enough.”

“What happened? You smell like the men’s bathroom in a seedy dive bar.”

I take a step back, my nose has grown accustomed to my dumpster scent it seems. “Lots of booze. Oh and the drunk college kid who projectile vomited on me.”

His face scrunches up worse than mine did. “Gross. You need to use my shower?”

I relax immediately. I didn’t want to ask, so I am glad he offered. “You wouldn’t mind?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “I insist, actually. I don’t want my neighbor smelling like a homeless person under a bridge.”

I roll my eyes. “Gee thanks. Glad to know I smell so pleasant.”

“Kidding. Well not really. You usually smell nice.”

What?

“I—ugh mean you don’t smell like you do now.” He grabs the back of his neck, hiding his embarrassment. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. “I’m going to continue my run. But here is a key to get in. If I’m not back before you are done, just lock up. I’ll use the hide-a-key.”

“You sure?”

He sniffs the air dramatically. “Positive.”

“Asshole.”

He smiles at that and then takes off running without another word.

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