LITMIR.BIZ

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hands, gasping again.

      “What … what does that feel like to you?” I finally stuttered.

      “Like fire. In the best possible way. You?”

      “The same. Good.” I shrugged, almost sheepishly. “Very good.”

      “I’m pretty out of breath,” he confessed with a grin.

      “Me too.” I laughed. “Which is saying something for someone who doesn’t really need to breathe.”

      He stopped smiling and cocked his head a little to the side. I immediately regretted my words. Stupidly, I’d jerked us out of the moment and back to the topic at hand. I shook my head, furious with myself.

      Might as well quit playing around and get it over with, I thought bitterly. I took a deep breath to steady myself and cut right to the chase.

      “So, Joshua, here’s the part where you run screaming into the night, right?” I paused to stare around at the clearing, lit up by the overcast daytime sky. “Metaphorically, that is.”

      “Amelia, do you see me running?”

      I leaned back, startled. “Well … no.”

      “And why would I run?”

      “Because any sane person would think I’m either crazy … or dead.”

      “I don’t think you’re crazy.” He kept his voice even, and quiet.

      “Huh. Um. So.” I couldn’t get my brain to form a logical sentence.

      “So,” he went on to finish my incoherent thoughts, “the way I see it, process of elimination leaves only one conclusion.”

      I kept my lips shut tight and studied his face. His midnight blue–colored eyes were wide and a little stunned. He looked as surprised as I felt by this turn in the conversation. Yet he sounded completely serious, maybe even … accepting? I shook my head, bewildered.

      “You believe me?”

      “I guess so.”

      “You believe I’m … dead? A ghost?”

      Joshua blew out a long breath and ran his hand through his black hair.

      “Yeah, I kind of think I have to,” he said with a shrug. “I mean, I don’t have an explanation for the river. How you were underwater with me, but you weren’t drowning. How you were on the shore—looking pretty damn dry, by the way—but no one saw you. And how it feels when I touch you. I mean, unless you are alive. And you have gills, and you’re invisible. And you’re electrified.”

      I shrugged back. “I don’t know. Maybe I am.”

      He smiled—an unbelievably casual gesture, considering the topic. “You mean you don’t know if electrification is a common trait for ghosts?”

      I stared at him, openmouthed. Was he joking about me being dead? “Um … no, Joshua, I have no idea what is or isn’t a common trait for ghosts. This is my first … ah …”

      “Haunting?” he offered.

      I snorted. “Yes, this is my first haunting.”

      “Then I’m flattered.”

      “Joshua,” I said, rubbing my forehead, “you’re taking this awfully well.”

      He sighed, still smiling, and walked over to sit beside me again on the bench. Tingles, like little licks of the flame I’d just experienced, raced along the side of my body closest to him.

      “You know, I’ve heard ghost stories all my life. Especially ones about the bridge, from my grandma. I’ve never believed any of them, of course. But like I said before, I kind of have to now, don’t I? Because otherwise I’m crazy, and I’m talking to a beautiful, electrified, imaginary girl.”

      “I swear I’m not imaginary.” An uncontrollable grin spread across my face. “I would know if I was imaginary, right?”

      He laughed, rubbed his palm down the length of his thigh, and then raised his hand up toward heaven as if to ask the sky that same question. “Who knows? Maybe we’re both crazy. But I’d like to think I’m not just talking to myself on a park bench.”

      “Well, you probably look like you are, you know.”

      “Huh.” He frowned. “I hadn’t really thought of that.” He glanced around the clearing, looking relieved at the emptiness of our surroundings. “We’re going to have to be kind of careful about that, aren’t we?”

      “We are?” I sort of croaked the question. “We’re planning on future conversations … and in public?”

      “Of course.” He shook his head impatiently and then abruptly switched gears. “So, am I really the only person who can see you?”

      “The only living person,” I qualified.

      “What about other dead people?”

      His question, and the fact that I had absolutely no idea what rules governed this situation, gave me a disconcerting jolt. Because I knew of only one other soul who could possibly know the answer—Eli. Eli, who could clearly see me, and who I could now see, too. Eli might be able to tell me every “how” and “why” about what was happening between Joshua and me. But I mentally shook my head firmly against the idea of contacting him. I made an internal vow never to fulfill Eli’s prophecy that I would seek him out voluntarily. Nor would I let Joshua know about Eli if I could help it.

      “I’m not so sure about that one,” I answered cautiously. “I haven’t had a lot of experience with that.”

      “Hmm.” Joshua pondered my response briefly. I expected some kind of follow-up question, one that would certainly be harder to answer; but he asked me something entirely different.

      “Just out of curiosity—why did you ask me what you look like? When we were on the bridge yesterday.”

      I wasn’t prepared for that question, either. I covered my mouth with one hand. “God, Joshua, do I really have to answer this one?” My words came out muffled, and dripping with embarrassment. But he just stared at me expectantly, so I sighed and dropped my hand. “I guess it’s because I have no idea what I look like.”

      He blinked. “Seriously?”

      “Um, yeah.”

      “No reflection?”

      “No, not that I’ve ever seen. I mean, I can see some of myself without a mirror.” I gestured down at my clothes and then up at my hair. “I just can’t remember what my face looks like. I think I sort of … forgot.”

      “Wow,” he breathed.

      “I know.” I sighed again. “Incredibly embarrassing, right?”

      Joshua didn’t answer me. Instead, he sat in complete, motionless silence, thinking who knows what. I was too mortified to speak, and he was staring at me in an intent way that, of course, unnerved me further.

      Finally, he broke the silence. “I wasn’t lying yesterday when I said you’re beautiful.”

      Wow.

      “Oh,” I said aloud, and suddenly found something very interesting to study on the filmy, tulle overlay of my skirt. I spared a quick glance up at him and found him grinning at me.

      “Should I go on?” he asked.

      I could swear I heard an almost playful tone in his question. I shrugged as casually as possible, considering I simultaneously wanted to jump up and down while giggling and disappear into a hole in the earth.

      “Your hair, it’s dark brown and wavy,” he said nonchalantly, as if he were cataloging the inventory of a store. “You’re pale, but you’ve got some

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