Till Death Do Us Part: A Paranormal Why Choose Romance (Vows Duet Book 1)

Chapter 16

Present Day

I’m being followed by a ghost.

Correction: Someone has been following me for a week, and I think it might be a ghost.

I’m almost positive it isn’t Koda. I haven’t seen him in the last week, anyway. But besides that, I tried to talk to this one, even asking if it was Koda. Somehow I know if it had been my Ghost Whisperer, he’d have shown himself.

No, this is someone else.

I bob my head, making a hum of agreement as Tilly chatters about the bio class she’s coming from. My anxiety kicks up a notch as she steers us toward the elevator. I’ve been avoiding them for the last couple of days, opting to take the five flights of stairs instead.

But with Tilly here, I don’t have a good excuse for why we can’t take the elevator instead of making her clomp down the stairs in the platform boots she’s wearing today.

I hold my breath as we step into the elevator, barely even hearing Tilly as she laughs through a story she’s telling about some other kid in her class. My eyes scan the empty space of the entrance and I press myself against the back wall, flinching when the door jolts as it starts to slide shut.

Just about the time that I think maybe my new ghost friend isn’t around today, the door stops with a few inches left and dings loudly, gliding back open.

Called it.

“Huh. That’s weird,” Tilly mutters, pressing the starred number one button three times in quick succession.

I already know before the door starts to shut that it will be successful this time. Mostly because I can feel the cold seeping into my skin from the ghost standing right in front of me. I can feel them gazing down at me. Refusing to look up like I might find eyeballs floating mid-air, I stare through where I know they’re standing.

When the door closes normally, Tilly chuckles. “Maybe it was a ghost,” she says, wiggling her fingers at me in an ‘ooh, spooky’ kind of way.

I give a strained laugh, tempted to shove the ghost in front of me so that she can see the resistance I would find. But before I can answer, the chill increases, whomever is here crowing me without making contact.

My hands shake with trepidation as I mash my lips together, trying to keep my breath was clouding up in front of me.

“I believe in ghosts, you know,” Tilly continues casually, unaware I’m having an existential crisis. “I believe there’s a lot of stuff we don’t or can’t see around us that’s just there. It’s a whole thing how we don’t use the full capacity of our brain.”

I make some sort of noise that seems to echo my agreement, though it’s really just a plea for the ghost to give me some space.

After what seems like hours, but is truthfully only seconds, the elevator announces our arrival to the lobby. As quickly as the phantom presence came, it leaves, taking the chill with them and allowing me to breathe again.

Tilly doesn’t seem to notice any of it. “I was thinking about going out tomorrow night. You wanna go?”

I’m still sucking in oxygen when I answer, so it comes out a croak. “Where?”

She does a double take at the noise I make. “Why are you breathing so hard?”

I scramble to think of an answer. “Elevators freak me out,” I blurt out.

“Well, why didn’t you say something, weirdo?” Tilly laughs. “We’ll just take the stairs from now on.” She waves her hand around, immediately moving on, the chains that connect five rings—one for each finger—to a bracelet on her wrist jingling. “Anyway. It’s a club music venue thing that my friend told me about—Echo. On Friday nights, they usually have live bands that come in. She said some suck ass,” she adds with a laugh. “But some are okay. Others are really good. Just kind of depends on what you like.”

I hesitate. “I don’t know, Tilly. Don’t we have to be twenty-one?”

“Nope!” she answers. “This one is eighteen-and-up.”

Well, poop. There goes my excuse.

“I’m not sure I’d really like that,” I admit honestly.

Tilly shrugs. “Don’t know until you try.” She must see the indecision on my face because she grins and nudges me with her elbow. “I’ll make you a deal. We go and if it’s not your thing, we’ll leave and go hang out somewhere else.”

I groan at her infectious excitement. “Fine,” I agree. “I’ll go. But we leave if we don’t both love it.”

“Deal!” she exclaims, all but squealing.

I smirk as I watch her hop around in bubbly happiness, babbling about what she’s going to wear. It’s such a drastic contrast to the gothic Wednesday Addams vibe she is trying to exude. It makes me wonder how much of her appearance is based on her desire to set herself apart from her sister, as opposed to genuinely liking that sort of lifestyle for herself.

We part ways after making plans to meet at her apartment tomorrow, since she doesn’t have any classes on Fridays. It takes only a few seconds of silence to have my mind wandering back to what happened in the elevator.

As if sensing my thoughts, the cold settles on the back of my neck, and my footsteps slow until my feet are planted on the sidewalk.

I glance around to make sure no one is around first. “Who are you?” I ask after confirming the coast is clear. “What do you want?”

The cold doesn’t go away, but there’s no response. No crowding.

I sigh. “Well, come on then. I’m going home.”

I would never admit it out loud, but the cold is nice as I make the trek in the oven-like heat.

What have I gotten myself into?

Tilly is dressed in some suspender skirt combo thing—black, of course—with a white collared crop top underneath that shows off her narrow pale-skinned waist. She’s already drawn a ton of attention in her fishnets and heeled combat boots.

Unfortunately, I’ve also drawn attention.

Refusing to allow me to leave her apartment in the jeans and t-shirt I’d worn over, she’d made me change into the only remotely going-out outfit I’d brought with me in case I was feeling bold. As it was, I only had it because I’d told Rhea where I was going and she’d given it to me to wear, knowing my wardrobe was lacking in this department.

I was not feeling bold when Tilly insisted I put it on, and then proclaimed me ‘hot as fudge’. Well, she didn’t say ‘fudge’.

I’m still not feeling bold as I tug at the skirt of the emerald green body hugging dress my sister gave me, which matches my eyes. It snaps back against my thigh as I release it. At least I still have my Vans—Tilly’s shoes were too big, thankfully.

“Quit fidgeting,” Tilly insists, shuffling me forward.

The bouncers at Echo eye us as she strides up to them, swaying her hips with extra oomph. “ID,” one of them grunts, not making it a secret that he’s checking her out.

He takes both of our IDs and then snorts as he reads them over, before handing them back. “Hands,” he orders, picking up a stamp.

I withhold a cringe as his sweaty hand traps mine before he smashes the stamp into my skin. Ouch. What’s he trying to do? Imprint ‘UNDERAGE’ on my soul?

Nodding towards the door when he’s done stamping Tilly, he shoots us both a look. “Stay out of trouble,” he warns.

Tilly bats her eyelashes at him, leaning toward him across the little podium he’s standing at. “Me? I would never get into trouble. Not alone anyway.”

“Too young,” he answers flatly, but his eyes roaming over her seem to contradict his words. “Move along, little girl.”

“Yes, Daddy,” she answers with sass, making my mouth drop open.

While he’s huffing out a bemused laugh, Tilly snatches up my wrist and hauls me inside without a backwards glance. I, however, look back and see the way he watches her go, his interest all too obvious.

“I think he likes you,” I shout over the din of the club, the air inside no less stuffy than it had been outside. Sweat slides down my spine under my dress.

She grins. “Oh, I know. He’ll come find this little girl later,” she yells into my ear.

I blush at the words and then turn my attention to the band on the stage, the electric guitar vibrating through me as the guitarist…what’s it called? Wails on it?

The music isn’t exactly my taste, but it’s not bad. Tilly seems to like it the alternative rock tune, bobbling her head in time with the beat. Before I know it, she’s made her way to a crowd of people who are dancing to the music, grinding their bodies against one another. She slips into the crowd without hesitation, beckoning me over with a crook of her finger and a shout I can’t hear. A guy next to her follows her line of sight and sees me, his eyebrows shooting up on his forehead as he scans over me and then grins, trying to convince me to come over too.

No. Heck no.

I take one step back and then another, prepared to bolt. Tilly’s focus goes behind me just as I run into a solid wall, foreign hands coming up to grasp my arms. I spin, an apology already pouring out my mouth that I’m sure nobody can hear. My words halt when I look up at the person I’ve walked into.

“Jimmy?” I ask, surprised. He furrows his brow and I realize my words were too soft to hear.

Someone jostles us and he snaps his head around, watching the unapologetic person who just shoulder checked him walk away. I push up on my tiptoes, drawing his attention back to me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, louder.

He shrugs, seeming a little dazed as I lean against him, gripping his shoulders. “What are you doing here?” he calls back.

I glance over my shoulder at Tilly, who gives me a wicked grin and gives me a thumbs up. Oh, sheesh. “With a friend,” I answer, facing him again, my cheeks red.

“To dance?” Jimmy steps back, his hand still holding my arm, when I shake my head. His eyes travel down the length of my body and back up. The appreciation in his eyes suddenly makes me grateful that Rhea made me take the dress, even if I’m sure he can see how hard I’m blushing because blood has pooled in my neck and chest. I probably look like I went sunbathing with no SPF.

Dad would flipping kill me if he could see any of this right now.

I shove away the thought so my anxiety doesn’t get the best of me. I’ll focus on how terrible all of this was for a well-behaved young lady tomorrow.

If he doesn’t like my embarrassed response, he doesn’t show it, leaning forward until he can speak into my ear. “Dance with me.”

My heart pounds in my chest. I’ve never danced a day in my life. Especially not with a boy—err, man? Because Jimmy is not a boy. I nod anyway, jumping when he takes my hand, interlacing my fingers with his. I know how worked up I am when I feel how cool his hand is against my super heated one.

Jimmy pulls me towards the moving throng of people, stopping just on this side so we’re not totally getting smushed. Before I can overthink anything, he drags me against him, my back to his front. One of his arms wraps around my waist, his hand landing on my hip, as he begins to move, finding the rhythm and moving both of us.

My cheeks burn as my arms flop around like dead fish. What do I even do with them?

I feel a rumble in Jimmy’s chest and mortification hits me when I realize he’s laughing. I don’t get the chance to pull away so I can go attend to my shattered self-esteem in the private of the women’s bathroom. His hand slides across my body, making me tense when it grazes the underside of my breast. Smoothing his fingers down my arm, he grips my wrist and forces my hand to slide up my body, including directly over my breast, until it’s looped around his neck.

I should be mortified that he just forced me to…molest myself in public. But I’m not. Oh boy, am I not. In fact, I’m so not that I feel a little less like I’m being tossed around like a sack of potatoes, and I start trying to match the rocking motion of his hips.

Jimmy clutches at my other hand, the one still down by my side, interlocking our fingers. His mouth at my ear, he says, just loud enough for me to hear it, “Relax into me, sweet girl. I’ve got you.”

The words do the trick. I melt into him, grasping onto his neck so my knees don’t give out when I feel a certain hardness press against my butt—something I’ve only read about in my dirty books. Jimmy groans low and I shiver as it rumbles through me.

I open my eyes, not sure when I closed them, my skin buzzing every place Jimmy’s fingers touch as we move together. Immediately, I see the guy from earlier, who wanted me to come to him. His eyes are glued to me and Jimmy as we dance, his lips twisted into a scowl.

Doing what normal Nova never does, I shove the idea that he could be judging me for the way I’m dancing out of my mind. Right now, there’s only me and Jimmy, and I’m not going to let anything ruin that.

Song after song passes, until I’m parched, but I refuse to stop dancing because I don’t want Jimmy’s hands to stop traveling over every inch of skin they can find. It’s like I can’t get enough of his touch—of the uncontrollable desire I feel it in.

Suddenly Jimmy jerks backwards and I stumble a step, never in any danger of falling since he’s got a tight grip on me. I glance to my right in time to see another guy catch himself from a stumble. It only takes me a second to realize he’d try to come up to dance with me.

“Back the fuck off, man,” Jimmy growls, holding me tighter. I should be worried about bruising, but something about the possessive way he’s grabbing at me is heavenly. But it’s the next words that have me releasing a tiny little moan of approval. “She’s mine.”

The guy’s mouth open and closes a few times, anger clouding his features, and he looks around like he’s checking to see if anyone else saw Jimmy shove him. Worry hits me he’s going to get us in trouble. Spinning, I push at Jimmy until he walks backwards enough for me to step around him. Taking his hand and leading us away from the crowd, I glance over my shoulder. I catch sight of Tilly being felt up by the Daddy bouncer from before as she dances, one of his legs trapped between hers as she grinds against him.

That didn’t take long.

Jimmy pulls me to a stop when we’re in a much less crowded part of the club, pulling at my hips until I’m flush against him once more. “Let’s go back to the house,” he suggests, speaking into my ear.

It’s obvious why we would do that—or at least why most people would do that. I wouldn’t under normal circumstances.

But these aren’t my normal circumstances. Not anymore. Rhea is right about this part.

Dad isn’t here. I can live my life.

With that, I reach up for him, standing on tiptoes, and press my lips to his in a chaste kiss. “Let’s go back to the house,” I agree.