Authors: Eli Easton
Option B: Someone was trying to help him out. But who? And why?
The door opened and Chuck came in.
“Hey,” Chuck muttered, dropping his book bag on the floor and sitting down heavily on his bed to unlace his boots. Chuck was probably going to change and go to the gym. That’s what he normally did after classes.
“Um… Chuck?”
“Yeah?”
Kevin showed him the bottles, turning the one in his hand to hide the label, embarrassed. “I just got back and found these on my bed. Any idea where they came from?”
Chuck looked at them and shrugged. “Nah, dude. Never seen ’em before.”
Chuck put on his tennis shoes. Then he grabbed his gym bag from under his bed and headed to the door with a muttered
see ya
.
Something fluttered out of a side pocket of the gym bag, landing at Kevin’s feet.
“Wait. You dropped something.”
Kevin put the bottle on the bed and picked up the paper. It was a single sheet, folded in half. On the front was a smiling picture of Brian Matheson. Kevin stared at it, feeling a little sick. It was a program for Brian’s funeral.
“Oh.” Chuck stood in front of Kevin, looking at the paper in his hands. “I forgot I stuck that in there.”
Kevin and Chuck had never talked about Brian’s death. The news had been all over campus after the accident, but Chuck had never brought it up and Kevin hadn’t either. Brian had just stopped coming by, stopped calling Chuck daily. Just… stopped.
“I’m sorry about Brian,” Kevin said.
Chuck met Kevin’s gaze, his brown eyes sad and a little puzzled. “Why? He wasn’t exactly nice to you.”
Kevin found himself unable to look away. “So? He was a friend of yours. You guys went way back, right? And no one deserves to die that young. That’s
….” Awful? Terrible? Unfair? Too horrible to contemplate?
All of that. Kevin didn’t finish the sentence.
“Yeah,” Chuck agreed, his voice rough. He hesitated. “I miss him, you know? He could be crude. And insensitive, I guess. But he wasn’t a bad guy. He was funny.”
Kevin nodded. And although he hadn’t realized he was holding on to a grudge, he felt something loosen in his chest as he forgave Brian. Whatever Brian had done to him, he’d paid for it a thousand times over. Besides, it was easy to forgive someone who could never hurt you again.
Chuck gave Kevin a smile for the first time ever. It was like the whole room got lighter, like someone had instantly changed the paint on the walls from a dull yellow to a bright white. He took the program from Kevin’s hand and headed out the door.
Kevin stood there for a minute trying to understand what he’d seen in Chuck’s eyes.
Loneliness. Pain
.
Longing
?
“Huh,” Kevin said. His roommate was human after all.
He went to sit down and remembered the Clearly Beautiful on the bed. He picked one up and read the back.
Apply three times a day
.
He’d ask around the floor to see if anyone had been expecting the stuff. Maybe they’d been put in his room by accident. But if not… if not, Kevin wasn’t going to look a gift fairy in the mouth.
The day suddenly didn’t seem so bad. Kevin smiled.
B
RIAN
WAS
seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. Thank God, he finally had a plan. He was going to get Kevin hooked up with that guy from the coffee shop—John. Surely Kevin wouldn’t off himself if he had a new relationship. And that would get Brian off the hook—probably literally, given the noises he’d heard from that trap door to hell.
A trickle of fear ran down his noncorporeal spine. God, he had to do this. He was good at paintball. And this was the same thing, right? It was just strategy, minus the actual paint.
First step—he had to improve Kevin’s looks. The poor guy had some serious impediments on the road to sexy. Unfortunately, Brian couldn’t take Kevin shopping or give him a lecture on clothes, not that Brian knew much about clothes. He’d never been a fussy dresser. But at least he’d had a few decent button-downs and a polo or two his mother had bought him. Kevin was all faded T-shirts, hoodies, and skinny jeans. But Brian had come up with the brilliant idea of taking some of Rachel’s face stuff and putting it on Kevin’s bed. He was damn proud of himself for that.
It had been disturbing to visit Rachel. Brian realized he’d hardly given her a moment’s thought since… since he died. They’d dated for only a few months but Rachel was hot—a curvy blonde with all the right equipment and a master’s license to deploy it. She was something of a princess though, always a bit too worried about her nails or her clothes. Still, she was fun, liked to party, and the sex was good. Brian thought they’d had something.
But, after spending a half day bored out of his ever-loving mind hanging out as an invisible spirit at Rachel’s house, he realized they hadn’t had very much. She didn’t seem heartbroken, and he wasn’t crying in his beer over their lost love. He saw her look sadly at a photo of the two of them on her desk only once. He gave up waiting for some heartfelt sobbing into her pillow—what he got was Rachel painting her toenails and trying to study—and decided to just do what he’d come to do.
Brian had once overheard Rachel telling a girlfriend about Clearly Beautiful. It kept her skin “perfect,” she’d said. Brian found new bottles of the “cleanser” and “lotion” in Rachel’s bathroom. He’d been able to move Kevin’s pen at the coffee shop, but he hadn’t tried moving things as large as the bottles before and not over long distances. He focused on them one at a time, mentally picturing Kevin’s bed in Cole Hall.
It took a lot of concentration, but finally the bottles vanished
, plip plop
. The effort left Brian swimmy and weak, and feeling about as substantial as a puff of smoke. But he managed to teleport himself to Chuck and Kevin’s room to check. The bottles were there all right, on Kevin’s bed, and they didn’t look any the worse for wear. They weren’t merged with part of an asteroid or anything, like in that scene from
The Fly
where the scientist guy has a fly’s body and the teensy tiny head of a man.
God
, that was an excellent film. Did they watch films in heaven? That could be cool.
Now Brian just had to do something about Chuck. If he could get Chuck out of the room more often, that would give Kevin some breathing room, take the pressure off. A girlfriend maybe? Of course, Chuck was totally lame in that department.
Brian smiled as an epiphany struck. Yeah.
Yeah.
He knew just what he was going to do. Oh, he was brilliant!
It was his last thought before the power drain of moving the bottles caught up to him and everything went—dark.
B
RIAN
HUNG
out with Chuck all day Friday. He was so excited he couldn’t stand it. He was sure this could work—if only Chuck didn’t blow it, which, knowing Chuck, was entirely possible.
Chuck and Rachel were perfect for each other. Chuck had always told Brian—well, he’d once agreed at Brian’s prompting—that Rachel was hot. And what guy wouldn’t like Rachel? Chuck needed someone vivacious like Rachel to pull him out of his shell. Chuck wasn’t the most aggressive guy in the world when it came to chicks. And that was like saying ducks didn’t do very well in a horse race. The truth was, Chuck was downright lame. If girls were dancing, Chuck would have two left feet and both arms tied behind his back. If they were a cook-off contest, Chuck would open a can of Spam and plop it, unheated, on a paper plate. It wasn’t like Chuck didn’t know this. The guys gave him grief about it all the time.
But that’s why Rachel was
perfect
. There was nothing shy about that girl. If she decided she wanted Chuck, she’d be more than capable of directing the traffic onto the bypass. And more than once, Rachel had tried to hook a friend up with Chuck, saying how “cute” and “shy” he was. The best part was Rachel always preferred to hang out at her place. Brian had spent a lot of nights there. If Chuck hooked up with Rachel, Kevin would have the room to himself. Mission-fucking-accomplished.
Besides, it was practically a Nicolas Sparks screenplay, right? With noble Brian selflessly hooking up his brokenhearted girl and his best friend from beyond the grave. That had to earn him mondo bonus points with that Peter guy.
Brian followed Chuck as he left his room and went into the stairwell. And there, coming up the steps, was Rachel. She looked great in her flawless makeup and pink fluffy scarf. She’d made a serious effort. Good sign.
Chuck froze at the top of the stairs. “Oh. Hey, Rachel.”
“Hey, Chuck.” Rachel gave a shy little bite of her lip.
“What’s, uh, what’s up?”
“I got your flowers,” Rachel said softly. She looked up at Chuck from beneath long lashes. Her blue eyes were irresistible like that. And damn, she looked pretty, all smooth skin and pink lips. Brian felt a flush of regret. He should have appreciated her more.
“Flowers.” Chuck’s voice had all the inflection of a cardiac flat line.
“No one’s ever sent me a dozen red roses before.”
“Roses?” Chuck parroted. For God’s sake, he was like an echo in a gender-bending funhouse.
C’mon, Chuckmeister, I gave her to you on a fucking platter. Roll with it, dude.
Rachel took another two steps up, still wide-eyed. “I was really touched by the message too.”
“Message?”
Brian elbowed Chuck in the back, the way he would if he were actually there. But Chuck didn’t seem to feel it. “Wake up, Dude!” Brian hissed in Chuck’s ear. “Get a clue!”
Chuck didn’t respond to that either.
“‘Sorry for your loss. Maybe we can miss him together.’ That’s so sweet, Chuck.” Rachel looked a little starry-eyed. She took another step higher.
Brian teared up, though he manfully tried to repress it. Yeah. The message he’d written was moving as hell. It was just so damn beautiful.
“Rachel…. I, um, didn’t send you flowers.” Chuck’s voice was firm and Brian groaned.
Oh, come on
! Couldn’t Chuck see the opportunity here? The miraculous stop of the poontang express? How stupid could he be?
Chuck’s lack of enthusiasm finally got through to Rachel. She looked up at him with an annoyed crease between her brows. Brian knew that crease well. The storm clouds were gathering.
Please, Chuck. Come on, buddy.
“It was signed with your name,” Rachel said, irritation in her voice.
“My name?”
Brian gave Chuck another shove, harder this time, but Chuck was unmoved.
“A dozen red roses. Delivered to me this morning. With a card that said ‘Sorry for your loss. Maybe we can miss him together. Chuck.’ Is this ringing any bells?” Now Rachel was downright pissy.
Chuck took a deep breath. “Rachel…. I am sorry for your loss. Of course I am. And I miss Brian too. But I didn’t send you flowers. I swear.”
Rachel sagged, looking confused. “Well, if you didn’t, then who did?”
Chuck thought about it. “Doesn’t sound like Randy or Chris. Maybe one of your friends?”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed as she contemplated. “Someone is trying to set us up.”
Chuck swallowed and got red in the face. “Sounds like it.”
Brian felt a surge of relief. Okay. Good for Rachel, straightforward as always. Maybe this whole thing would work after all. Brian nudged Chuck with a grin, but Chuck still didn’t move.
Rachel looked up at him curiously and moved closer. Now she was just one step below Chuck. Chuck’s knuckles went white on the rail.
“I’d be okay with that,” Rachel said with a soft smile. “I do miss Brian. Maybe we could hang out and… be there for each other, ya know?”
Gah, Rachel was flirting her little fanny off. And, yeah, Brian had set this up, but she didn’t have to be so damn eager about it.
She reached up to touch Chuck’s arm and he took a panicked step back. “Um, Rachel, I…. I-I mean. You’re great and all, but… I’m not really into you.”
Brian cringed.
Oh! Oh, shit.
Chuck
! You did
not
say that to a girl, not any girl at any time
, ever
.
Rachel flushed with embarrassment. Her blue eyes snapped like lightning striking a bucket of blue paint. “Oh, fuck you, Chuck.” She turned and began stomping down the stairs.
“Rachel, I’m sorry.”
“Forget it! When I find out who did this, I’m going to kick their ass!”
And there, there went Brian’s plans in a blaze of stupidity. No biggie, right? It was just
eternal damnation
. It was just Brian’s immortal soul, endless torment, flesh barbeque, no sympathy from the devil and….
Go after her, you moron!
Brian pushed. He put both of his hands on Chuck’s back and shoved with all his mental might.
Chuck went crashing down the stairs like a huge and ungainly bowling ball badly thrown and bouncing down the lane.
Rachel screamed. Brian stood there in horror.
Oh, God, oh God, oh God!
It seemed to take forever. Apparently, when you’re in spirit form, and the biggest disaster imaginable was happening, time slowed down to make sure you took in every detail—the look of shock on Chuck’s face, the smashing of an elbow into the wall, the bitter snap of bone. Finally Chuck landed in a heap on the landing.
Oh God, I killed Chuck
.
Oh no, please.
Brian teleported down the stairs and knelt by his friend. “Chuck! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it!” Brian didn’t think Chuck could hear him, but he said it anyway.
“Someone call an ambulance,” Rachel was screaming.
Chuck moaned. “I’m okay.” He didn’t sound okay. His voice was tight with pain. He tried to sit up and gave a little cry. “Oh, fuck, my leg!”
In a rush something like a backlash, the energy Brian had expended with the push snapped back, draining him in an instant. His last thought before he blacked out was:
I am so screwed.