Call Me Ghost ✔️

Chapter Six

Ghost keeps his word and texts me the next day with details about his match, what time it starts and when he'll be picking me up. I thank him and expect the exchange to end there, but it doesn't. He continues to text me throughout the rest of the day and even into the next day.

I've never been one to constantly be checking my phone, because I know there's almost never anything to be checking for. Brody prefers to call when he has something important to tell me or when he wants to hang out. And I don't exactly leap for the phone when it's anything from my mom.

But for the past two days I've been on it constantly, because I really love that Ghost feels the need to share so much with me. He texts me randomly about what he's doing or asks me questions about myself and my day. It's nice to feel like someone is going out of their way to talk to you.

I also note that since hanging out with Ghost I've been able to get over my writer's block. It happened that same day we hung out. After he dropped me off I went into my room and opened my laptop and the words just started flowing. I felt inspired.

It hasn't slowed down over the last few days. I'm practically glued to my keyboard, only pulling away to answer Ghost's texts. I remind myself I should be focusing on studying more as classes are going to start back up soon, but I just can't get myself to do it.

I sit huddled up in bed, my laptop warming my legs as I text with Ghost.

Ghost; I checked out that podcast you told me about, Crime Junkie. I listened to one of the episodes.

Em; Ooh! What did you think?

Ghost; It was morbid and depressing, but I liked it.

Em; In that case, I have some Netflix recommendations for you my friend.

I can see that he's typing, but a light knock at my door has me glancing up with a confused frown. I call out for them to come in, expecting Annie, but it's Brody who slowly creaks the door open and steps into my bedroom.

I frown and set my phone down beside me while greeting, "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Annie let me in." He explains, shutting the door behind him. He lingers there in front of me for a moment before moving closer and sitting down at the edge of my bed. With slightly down turned lips he questions, "Are you still mad at me?"

I regard him for a moment, my expression blank. Since that night I haven't said much to Brody, or even seen him until now. He texted me occasionally, restating his apology and promising to never act like that again. I eventually texted back that it was okay after I got sick of his groveling.

But I didn't expect him to show up here.

"I don't know." I finally mutter. I feel my phone vibrate with a text beside me but I don't dare ignore Brody to check it.

He shifts closer, resting his hand on my ankle that's beneath the sheets. He squeezes lightly and remarks, "Come on, Em. I said I was sorry. I was drunk, I barely even remember what happened. You can't blame me forever for something I don't remember."

My lips tighten and I avoid his gaze as I tell him, "You left a bruise, Brody. That's what happened."

"And I will live with that guilt forever." He insists, giving me those wide, remorseful eyes, "But you can't truly believe that I ever intended to hurt you. I love you more than anything. I'm sorry if I get carried away sometimes, but that's not the me you know. The me you know has always taken care of you, shown you so much love and devotion. I'm not perfect, I make mistakes, but we can't let those small mistakes ruin a relationship that is years in the making."