Chapter 23
I follow up that last text with a smiling emoji. I’m guessing Theo is at least a minor Star Trek nerd, and if not, then I’ve outed myself as one.
Ever since I showed him the construction log a few days ago, he’s been wanting regular updates on the house. When I was reluctant to cooperate, he sighed, exasperated. It was kind of adorable. “I thought you finally accepted that there’s something going on here.”
“I do. I just don’t think we’re living in The Ring.”
I still don’t. I’m not going to let the fact that it will be August in just a week cause me to lose my level head. Instead of worrying about what might or might not happen, we need to be figuring out a solution. Who is this ghost (or whatever we’re dealing with), and how do we get it out?
Throwing my tote bag over my arm, I wave at Mr. Hargrave as I step onto the porch and head toward the Pilot.
He blames Theo for breaking the porch railing, so today he’s sent him to Boston for some kind of fancy tile Mom wants for the bathrooms. I tried to explain that I was the one leaning on it, but Theo wouldn’t let me.
He seemed resigned to taking the blame, like no matter what his dad was told or saw with his own eyes, he would think Theo caused the issue.
Sighing, I get in the SUV and set the GPS for Providence. When Arden saw how many treasures I found thrifting, they insisted that we go to Providence and check out all the city’s secondhand shops.
By the time I reach the first store and park, my phone is stacked with messages.
Taylor has sent me the latest countdown to her visit (twelve days!).
Mom is reminding me that I am helping her on campus tomorrow with her office.
And Theo has sent me a GIF from Casper where all the other ghosts are menacing the people in the house.
Amity: Is that one fiction too?
Theo: Even more than Ghostbusters.
Amity: Don’t tell Taylor or you’ll ruin her life.
Theo: Are you still coming over tonight?
Amity: Yes!
Amity: Okay, Arden’s waving at me. Time to go buy more stuff you’re going to have to build shelves for.
Theo: As you wish.
Amity: Has Matt seen The Princess Bride?
Theo: He left the room the minute the rodents of unusual size showed up. I still haven’t convinced him they aren’t real.
I shove my phone back in my bag and hurry across the street to meet Arden. They’ve got a bunch of floral silk scarves draped over their right arm. As soon as I am close enough, they shake out the first one so I can see the design. “How do you feel about draping scarves on lamps?”
“Like the fortune-teller look is not really my vibe.”
Arden chuckles. “Fair.”
I pull a few sheets of loose-leaf paper out of my bag, all of them full of very bad room-layout sketches. An architect I will never be. Half the lines aren’t even straight.
I shake them open in front of us. “We’ve already gotten so much stuff, plus my furniture from the old house, so I thought maybe we should figure out what to do with that before we get anything else?”
“Coffee and brainstorm sesh?” Arden returns the scarves to their rack, then nods to a café on the next block.
“They probably don’t have Caffies, huh?”
“That is a Carbs with Holes specialty.”
I sigh, and we head down the street. “I plan to buy them by the vat once school starts.”
One caramel latte, one matcha-something for Arden, and a plate of three types of pastry between us, we pore over my sketches. We decide that my “study” should be pretty streamlined. A wall of bookcases, my desk under the window, then a little kitchenette space on the wall that abuts the bathroom.
“I think I want the room with the big closet to be my hangout slash crafting space,” I say.
“If we take the door off the closet, it can be part of the room, and there’s so much storage for crafting materials and books.
And I was thinking of asking Theo if they could put up a barn door to separate the rooms instead of the regular door. ”
Arden chews on their paper straw. “How is Theo?” They grin.
I drop my forehead to the table.
Arden tugs at my ponytail. “What?”
“I don’t know how to do this,” I groan into my lap. Arden seems like the least judgmental person in history, so I finally let those words out.
“Do what?”
I lift my head and sit back in my chair. “I’ve never been in a relationship. I hadn’t even kissed anyone until Theo kissed me on Gravity Hill—”
“Oh my god, classic Theo. Kiss someone on cursed land.”
Despite my dismay, I laugh. I use the distraction to try to collect my thoughts. “So I guess I just…don’t know what to do after you kiss someone. Are we dating? What is he going to expect from me? Is he going to think I’m a loser if he finds out how inexperienced I am?”
Arden holds up their hand. Only then do I realize how fast I was talking and how out of breath I am. “To that last one, no way. That’s not Theo.”
My stomach flips. Because rationally, I know that, but that doesn’t make the fear go away. Marjorie and the rest of them literally made fun of everything about me, so I feel like I have no barometer for what is normal anymore.
“But also, I get it. I’m in the same boat, except I haven’t had my Gravity Hill moment yet.”
Arden’s words are like a pin, and my body is an overly inflated balloon.
One tap and all the tension rushes out of me.
It seemed like I was the only person over the age of seventeen who had never been kissed.
And even if, statistics-wise, that could never have been true, it didn’t change how alone I felt.
“My knee-jerk reaction is to say ‘I’m sorry,’ ” I note.
“But that’s dumb because there’s nothing wrong with us.
” I pick up my latte and suck out the dregs of coffee nestled between the ice.
“I honestly don’t know if I was ready to kiss someone before this.
” Theo was the first person to make me think that kissing could be anything but scary.
Arden nods. “When I finally kiss someone, I want it to be because I really want to. Not because I feel like I have to fulfill some quota to keep up with the masses.”
I tell Arden about Taylor’s first kiss and the thumb wrestling and we both cackle.
“I’m assuming Theo was not a thumb wrestler?” Arden asks.
I instantly grow hot in the face. “He is whatever the opposite of that is.” Mischief overtakes Arden’s expression, and this time, I’m the one throwing my hands in the air. “No. Please do not try to come up with the answer to that.”
They ignore me. “Toe wrestler?”
“Stop.”
“Thumb sprinter—you know, like the opposite of a contact sport.”
“Arden.”
“Maybe something with tongues—”
My chair makes a loud noise as it scrapes against the sidewalk. “I am literally leaving now.”
Arden grabs my tote bag to hold me hostage and we clean off the table. Then we head back to the thrift shop.
As we wander the racks and aisles, I blurt out the question that’s been on my mind since we started talking about Theo. “Has he…you know…had a lot of girlfriends…or boyfriends…er…relationships?”
Arden cocks their head at me. “That’s a good question for him.”
My insides become a whirlpool. Mostly because I know they aren’t wrong. But also because the idea of asking him makes me feel the same way I did in that stairwell when the shadow ran through me. Or the first time we drove Gravity Hill. Like I don’t understand anything anymore.
I pick up a mug that says I am silently judging your grammar and inspect it. It is the perfect office-warming gift for my mother. I try to think of that rather than Theo and me and whatever we are.
Arden must see how bad I’m failing at that because they take pity on me. “Remember, he took me to prom.”
Theo’s house is beautiful.
The outside is shale gray with stone accents and black shutters and doors. The yard looks professionally manicured, with lots of neatly groomed shrubs and trees and green, green grass.
I park the Pilot behind Theo’s truck and, grabbing the Tupperware container of s’mores brownies on the passenger seat, slide out of the vehicle.
He told me not to bring anything, but my mother impressed upon me early in life that you never come empty-handed when invited to someone’s house.
Plus, brownies seem pretty universally beloved.
The front door is already open, and Theo is standing on the porch with a small dog in his arms. Except for his belly, the underside of his muzzle, and the tips of his paws, the dog is all black.
He has a solid, squat frame, and his big ears project out of the two corners of his head like Baby Yoda’s. He’s quiet and still in Theo’s arms.
“This is Biscuit.” Theo grins at me.
I offer Biscuit my open palm and he buries his cold nose in my lifeline. I respond by giving his chin a good scratch, and it is pretty clear from how fast his tail starts wagging that I’ve made a new BFF.
After I give Biscuit a sufficient amount of attention, Theo opens the storm door and lets us into the house. He sets the dog down and the pup dances at our feet as we make our way to the kitchen at the back.
The interior of this place is as immaculate as the outside.
The walls are the lightest blue color and all the accents are white.
Honey-colored wood floors line every room.
Family pictures fill spaces on the walls and shelves of the living room, dining room, and den, and the furniture has a simple, lived-in feel.
The kitchen spans the entire back of the house and has both a breakfast nook and a window seat. I set my Tupperware on the island and sit down by the window. Biscuit jumps up beside me and rolls onto his back with his belly facing me.
“Be warned,” Theo says, “that if you start rubbing that belly, you will not be allowed to stop.”
“Say less.” My fingers are already scratching at the dog’s soft fur.
Theo rests a hip against the handle of the stainless steel oven. As he gazes at me, he taps his palm with a spatula. “Welcome to my house.”
“It’s beautiful.”