When a weary college student accidentally summons the ghost of an arrogant billionaire, she hesitantly agrees to help solve his dark disappearance, but discovering the truth entails bidding farewell.
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Ian Cros
Present Time
"Ian Cros," a sweet voice echoed from the darkness of eternal sleep. Her warmth dug at my soul with laughter and innocence, the innocence I never had when I was alive.
As the darkness sparked with dim light, her face shined before me, the eyes of gold, heaven, and honey. Her chestnut strands fell over her cheeks, brushing the numb expression I desired to read. Pale pink lips of longing. She dropped her jaw open and screamed with fear.
I sat up, my body nonexistent inside of hers. "What is happening? Who the fuck are you?" I sensed my voice vibrate from inside of her, yelling underwater.
The girl crawled away from me, stealing the warmth from her soul. She closed her eyes and slapped her cheeks.
"One, two, three, four," her lips barely moved as she whispered.
"Why are you counting?" I asked her, standing with my arms crossed. "Get out of my room!" I paused and saw that the painted walls and my stuff had disappeared. "What happened to my room?" I pointed at the green wall. "Where is my television and couch?"
Looking at my palms, the hazy feelings of being in my room, but not at the same time. What happened to me?
The girl raced into her tiny kitchen. "No, this is my room!" She shuffled in the cabinet and stumbled with a pepper shaker, pointing it at me. Her wrist shook as I watched the black specks drift through me.
I tilted my head in confusion. "What are you doing?"
She panicked and threw the clay container straight at me. With no reaction, I watched it shoot through me and hit the wall on the other side. I cupped my chest, uneasy with dizziness and shock, while I darted at her with wide eyes.
"Ghost!" she yelled with confidence.
But how? My memories were uncertain about my last day. She, the girl with doe eyes and warmth to fill a cruel soul, must help me. Help me remember the days leading up.
January 2002
Soon, I would face my unfortunate fate - the day I vanished, incomparable to the way they killed her.
In detail, I was the hotshot in college, living in my mid-twenties like life was one big party. Girls on my dick, like it gave them oxygen to breathe. Men wished they were me because I caught the eyes of a blonde bombshell.
But tonight, I didn't want the carbon copy of Britney Spears. I needed the quiet girl with emo clothes, smoking in the corner. I desired the chick with black hair and a band groupie Simple Plan shirt, the girl who continued to tease me from afar.
"Hey Ian, when are you going to pick one?" Mark asked me as I drank the rest of my beer.
I shoved my empty cup into his chest while a blonde girl with butterfly clips hung on his shoulder. She gave me a pouty expression as I walked in reverse away.
