Page 27 of A Ballad of Phantoms and Hope
He sets the pillow down next to his and my cheeks warm.He meant it when he said I could stay in his bed.
He notices me in thought and says, “You still scared? Or do you feel better now?”
I want to stay in his bed. I really do. But I can’t get attached, so I shake my head. “I feel much better after the movie. Thanks, Lanston.” My smile falters.
He deflates a bit but doesn’t let it show. “For what?”
“For being so kind.”
There really aren’t many people like him out in the world anymore. When did we, as humans, become so cold and withdrawn? How many Lanstons did I need when I was alive? More than I can count.
I crawl into the spare bed and pull the sheets up high to my chin, facing Lanston. He does the same, shutting off his lamp and staring back at me—only the moonlight between us again, like back in my opera house.
“Heydreary girl.”
I chuckle. “What?”
In the dim light, I can barely make out his sharp cheekbones, but if I shut my eyes, I can see him perfectly in my mind: his soft brown hair and rosy lips. The dark circles beneath his eyes that allude to his restlessness. Yet he’s still so profoundly handsome.
“Come with me to the music room tomorrow to catch a ghost and take back my hat?” There’s a hint of a laugh in his voice.
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“A phantomly date.”
We both quietly laugh as if anyone can really hear us. Two phantoms sharing jokes in the dark. Oh, how far we’ve fallen from the typical portrayal of ghosts.
“A ghostly rendezvous,” I say through giggles.
Pfft.Lanston’s shoulders shake with laughter.
I could get used to the sound of such happiness. Such weightlessness from the both of us.
“Put the broom down. What do you honestly expect to do with that?” I nudge Lanston playfully and he gives me an“I’m not putting down the broom”look.
“It’s better than nothing, isn’t it?” He can’t even stop himself from smiling.
We’re both peeking into the music room, looking for any signs of a hiding phantom. The bay windows let in a massive amount of light; it’s almost silly that we are unwilling to enter the room.
“What are you two doing?”
“Yelina!” Lanston shouts; then, after clearing his throat and picking up his faithful broom he’d just thrown, mutters, “Fuck, why would you sneak up on us like that?”
Yelina puts her hand on her hip and gives himandme a once over, looking mildly annoyed but more interested in what we’re up to. My eyes lift to her shoulders. A wisp of smoke curls faintly before it vanishes, and I know then that she’s one of the victims of the fire.
She’s a stunning woman. Long blonde hair with an icy tone, not brassy-yellow. Her makeup is the definition of perfection; the dark liner of her eye-wings is flawless and the blush of her cheek bones is lovely.
Yelina is intimidating as hell.
“Why are you two sneaking around and acting like weirdos?” she snaps back, looking into the music room warily.
Me and Lanston share a look.
Are we really going to tell her and risk sounding crazy as fuck?
Lanston shrugs. “None of your business.”
Yelina snatches the broom from his hands and is about to fire off another round of insults before another gal strolls into the hallway. She has a lovely pear-shaped face, a button nose, and bright, kind eyes. Her brown hair is pulled back into a loose braid.
