Page 10 of Lost to the Woods

She shakes her head, giggling like a hyena.

“You jealous, Bunny?” Ghost murmurs, lazy and sharp. “Didn’t think I was your type.”

He’s doing it again, without actually addressing the issue. That thing between us? It wasn’t nothing. He knows it. I know it. Everyone else knows it.

“I’m not jealous,” I snap, too fast. But my cheeks heat, betraying me. Goddammit.

“Mm. Sure.”

“Alright, everyone ready?” Nate asks, coming to my rescue once more. Seriously, I don’t know what I would ever do without his Golden Retriever persona.

We drive to town in the rental car to investigate, and in trueScooby-Doofashion, we split into smaller groups. I’mpaired with Ghost—obviously—because he can’t take no for an answer.

The town is straight out of a horror flick—quaint, too quiet, the kind of place where weird shit happens daily, but no one talks about it. Old brick buildings line the streets, the sidewalks are cracked, and the locals? Everybody is staring, which is fair. I can’t blame them. With my full kawaii aesthetic and Ghost’s… whatever.

He walks beside me, hands in his pockets, exuding that big, silent, brooding energy that makes people intrigued but nervous.

“Can you just try to be more inviting?” I mutter as we stroll past an antique shop where an old woman glares at us like we just stole her grandson’s soul.

“You’re overly inviting with your pastel shit. We balance each other out.” His deep voice is amused. Always amused.

I roll my eyes. “You’re literally dressed like a serial killer.”

“Serial killers wish they looked this good.”

I groan. “Get over yourself, will ya? You’re like a Hot Topic metalhead tried summoning a demon but got the unpaid intern instead.”

He tilts his head slightly, and I know he’s frowning beneath his mask. But I also know he’s too cocky to beactuallyoffended.

He exhales heavily, then mutters, “Little fucking brat.”

“That was a good one, admit it!” I laugh, cracking up at my own joke.

“Yeah, you got me good,” he replies in pure sarcasm.

We talk with a few locals, recording a bit. Ghost doesn’t do much of the talking—shocker—but the mask alone makes people compelled enough to spill their guts. It’s the usual lore—whispers of missing hikers, strange noises in the woods, and one old man who claimed he saw glowing eyes staring at him fromhis window one night. Totally normal. Small-town folks love a spooky urban legend, and I eat it up.

Ghost, on the other hand, doesn’t share my enthusiasm. It’s like all he wants is to get me alone and talk about what happened between us, which I’m desperately trying to avoid. What can I even say to him? It’s easier to pretend like nothing happened.

Then we stop at the old-fashioned diner and get seated at the booth by the window. It smells like scorched bacon grease, black coffee, and a hint of mop water pretending to be lemon scented. It’s perfect.

“You’re not eating?” I ask after I order, noticing Ghost hasn’t gotten anything.

“Not hungry.” He shrugs. “I ate at the house earlier before you guys got there.”

This can be true. When Kendra, Nate, and I arrived from NYC, Ghost and Dev were already in our Airbnb. But I still feel the need to tease him a bit.

“It’s the mask, isn’t it? You don’t want to take it off in public.” I grin, enjoying this way too much. “What if I wanted to kiss you? Huh?”

“So you want to kiss me,” he purrs, smug as hell.

My brain stutters.Shit. I walked right into that.

“I—IF! Which I don’t!” I stammer, my face immediately heating up. “I was just asking, you know, for like, logistical purposes—”

Ghost leans in close, elbows on the table, his voice dropping into something darker. “Don’t worry, baby. The mask comes off to eat your pussy.”

What the hell did he just say?

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