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Two's a Party

I wake up the next evening with something bothering me. I can't figure it out. But it's there, fuzzy, on the edge of my mind. I climb to the surface, and Callum is already waiting for me. "What do you want?" The moment we shared last night has gone, and I'm bitter all over again. Bitter that I'm dead, bitter that my former fiance fucked my best friend, and bitter that I'm no closer to figuring out what happened to me than I was when I started.

"Good evening to you, too." He holds a hand out to help me out of the grave, but I refuse and push myself up. He ignores my bad mood. "I was thinking maybe we-"

I stop him mid-sentence. "Look, Callum. There is no we anymore. This isn't High School Musical. We are not all in this together. Understood?"

"I just thought..."

"Thought what? That because we're both dead-" he flinches at the word "-that we could what? Pick up where we left off? Sorry, Callum, you forfeited that when you slept with my best friend."

"If you'd let me explain-"

I laughed. "Explain what? I saw it with my own eyes, Callum. I was there." He looks shocked, but I continue. "I watched you brush her hair off her face like you'd do with me. I watched you flip her on her back and tell her to look into your eyes, just like you used to me. I hadn't been dead two months. So forgive me if I don't want to have some crazy undead sex with you in a cemetery, Callum. I will never forget that scene if I live another hundred years." My eyes sting with tears I can't cry. 

Even the look on Callum's face doesn't soften the blow of my own words.He's stunned, and honestly so am I. I've spent the last couple of months convincing myself that I don't care that the man I loved slept with the woman who was basically my sister. I've been lying to myself. I do care that he fucked Amelia, and I care a lot.

Callum is quiet for a moment, and when he does speak, he chooses his words carefully. "It was a mistake, Eden." I open my mouth to tell him off again, but he holds up a finger, and I shut it. "I know that's cliche, trust me, I know. I missed you, and I missed having someone at the house to come home to. And I was mad. I was mad at you for doing this to me, to us. It started out innocent-"

"Yeah, til it wasn't," I scoffed.

If my comment phased Callum, he didn't show it. "She would come over and check on me. Make me dinner. Try to make me smile. And like I said, I was still so mad at you. So when she kissed me, and one thing led to another..."

"You thought it would be a way to get back at me."

He nods and studies his feet. 

The rational part of me understands. I really do. But the emotional part? I'm raging. "Callum." I take a deep breath to steady my voice. "I get it. I do. But you have to understand, from my point of view, why I still hold it against you." I pause to let my words sink in. "But for now, we can start over. Friends?" I hold out my hand, and he shakes it, but I can tell "friends" isn't what he wanted to hear.

"Friends," he repeats. "So what do we do all night?"

"Honestly, I've spent my time trying to figure out what happened to me. Mr. Conley told me I'd committed suicide, but I didn't believe him."

"Wait, Mr. Conley died?"

Oops. Forgot Callum didn't know I'd been discovered. "No, but he was here in the cemetery a few nights ago. He was here when I came back from..."

"From Amelia's," Callum finished. I nodded. "What was he doing here?"

"No idea," I shrugged. "I didn't ask and he didn't tell. But he promised he'd keep my secret."

"I'm sure he will. He's a good guy. So other than freaking out your dad's staff and playing detective, what else?"

"Not much else to do. But I guess since we have your house now, we have a safe place to shower." He shoots me a look. "Separately."

"Hey, you can't blame a guy for wondering." He smiles again. "Can we sleep there? I don't know about you, but my casket isn't the comfiest." He rubs his lower back.

"I don't know what will happen if we're out of the cemetery past daybreak. I've never chanced it. But we do have a place to go, so at least we're not out wandering the streets at night. Which means there's a less likely chance we'll get caught."

"Okay, you're the expert on the undead," he laughs. "Can we go home first, though? I really need to get out of this tux."

"I'm surprised you're still in it, to be honest. The first thing I did was break into my parents' and change clothes. That tutu..." I feign a shudder. 

"It was pretty bad. I voted for the black dress you wore to the charity ball last year, but that got shot down."

"Well thanks for being on my side. Come on, Cal, let's go home."

**********

Home hasn't changed much either. Callum's bourbon-scented cologne permeates everything, but there's underlying scents of vanilla and Cuban cigars that make me feel just the way I did when I was alive. I walk around the living room while Callum showers. It's just like I'd left it. Our photos still line the mantel, and the pillows on the couch and the thrown tossed casually over the arm are my doing. I walk down the hall to the bedroom we'd shared. The bed isn't made, and there's a pile of dirty laundry in the corner, but other than that, it's unchanged, too, save for a picture of us Cal has on his nightstand. It's a shot from our engagement, me in my long green dress and Cal in his tie to match. It wasn't there before. Maybe he wasn't lying. Great, the little voice is back.

Cal steps out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. Drops of water still cling to his chest. My eyes follow one of the drops as it breaks free and trickles down to the edge of the towel. "Like what ya see?"

I'd blush if I could. "Ye - No, it's not like that," I stammer, and Cal shrugs. He strides over to the dresser, dropping the towel along the way. I look away, but not before I have the image of his perfect ass committed to memory against my will. 

"C'mon, Eden, not like you haven't seen it before." I look over at him again, and he's naked. The smile he's struggling to hold back toys with the corner of his mouth.

"The keyword there is before, Cal. Put some damn clothes on." I walk out of the room, but his laughter follows me.

**********

"Are you sure no one will see us?" Cal asks for the fifth time in an hour and a half. He glances at the window.

"It's four in the morning, Cal. No one is going to even pay attention. They'll just think it was your parents or something if they do." This does nothing to calm him, and I'm sure he'll ask again in thirty minutes.

"If you say so," he sighs, and turns back to face the Netflix serial killer documentary I've put it on. "Do we have to watch this? It's a little morbid, considering, don't you think?"

"I'm just waiting for the day when we get our own Netflix special," I tease. I'm wrapped up in the throw purely for comfort, and I rub the soft material between my thumb and forefinger as the world of serial killers sucks me back in.

The sound of a key turning in the lock makes us both jump to our feet. "Run. Now." Cal hisses, but it's too late.

The door swings inward, and Amelia is on the mat, wide-eyed with horror.