8. STEVIE #3
She looks up at me with a matching smile on her lips. “ Allegedly,” she says. “I don’t think I’ve met another person who likes to play devil’s advocate as much as you do.”
I throw my head back with a laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re so skeptical of everything. I feel like I could tell you my shirt is white and you’d tell me it’s actually yellow just on principle.”
I sit down in the office chair next to the desk and think over her words. “Yeah, fair enough.”
“Personally, I don’t know what else you could possibly need to prove that my house is haunted. It seems pretty evident to me.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I guess it’s just so…extreme to me. Like, ghosts ? Really?”
“A paranormal investigator who doesn’t believe in ghosts—I didn’t expect that when I reached out to you guys.”
I realize my mistake as soon as she says that. I’d forgotten that my real opinions don’t matter right now—I have to be the ghost girl. Number one believer in the paranormal and unexplainable.
“Oh, yeah, I just mean I’ve seen so much. It takes a lot for me to be truly convinced. I don’t take it lightly.”
“Right,” Lo says, and I can’t tell if she’s starting to see the cracks in my story or not. I’ve never been a particularly convincing liar—it’s easier to stretch the truth and avoid answering as much as I can. “So, what was it that you wanted to do if not reality TV? You never answered my question.”
“Film,” I say simply, “like just about everyone else here. I got my start as a kid making dumb movies in my backyard. And then I became more serious in middle school and very serious in high school. I did a couple of short films and really tried, but…I don’t know.
You just end up where the money is sometimes. ”
“Yeah, I actually really feel that,” Lo says.
She sits on the very edge of the bed—it feels too weird to think of it as our bed— and sighs a little bit.
“I know the show I was on basically bought me the house, but it’s complicated.
Too many years of auditions that went nowhere have kept me grateful, though.
I know there are people out there who wish they had what I had. ”
“It’s the price of loving something, I guess. I can’t see myself doing anything else, even when the exact job I have isn’t my first choice.”
“Do you not like the show?” Lo asks.
“That’s the first time anyone’s ever asked me that.
” I pick at the hem of my shirt in thought, turning myself back and forth in my chair.
“I don’t know. I actually think I might really love it, but I feel weird admitting it.
I get to travel. I have a lot of creative control.
We’re a small crew with a very small budget, which makes things feel more…
grassroots, I guess. It’s about as barebones as something can be on screen.
Feels like I’m back in short films again, where it all started or whatever. ”
Lo’s face softens, and I have to look away, embarrassed to have been so vulnerable.
Andrew and the twins aren’t particularly sentimental, so I’m not sentimental with them.
We don’t talk about hopes and dreams or if we like what we do.
We don’t talk about anything related to feelings, really, other than being annoyed or tired.
It’s weird working that muscle in myself again and remembering that I have the capacity to be gentle.
“I think you could do well in horror. With all of the ghost talk and having to make things scary while telling a story,” Lo says and leans her weight back onto her arms.
Forgetting she’s right there, my eyes trail over her frame. It’s hard, if not impossible, to pull my eyes away from the crease where her thighs meet her hips. I want to put my hands on her waist, run my hands under her shirt…
I force myself to look away. I’ve been on my best behavior all day, doing everything I can to not get distracted by Lo.
But now that we’re alone and there’s no more work to focus on, I find myself getting wrapped up in her.
There’s something about the way her hair falls over her shoulders, her sweet smile, the gentle but firm way she communicates.
Her confidence, her certainty, are so fucking sexy.
I’ve never liked a woman putting me in my place—never let a woman put me in my place—before now. And I’m really liking it.
“Yeah, I’ll consider,” I say, the most half-assed, distracted answer I’ve ever given to a question. I feel like a student who just got called on while daydreaming.
Lo is either genuinely a great actress, or she can’t tell how much I’m fighting for my life right now. It’s taking every cell in me not to ask her if I can kiss her. “I just can’t believe you didn’t film any of the stuff from earlier,” she says.
I bring my eyes back to her face, which doesn’t help much with fighting off my growing desire for her. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure we’ll see just as much tomorrow.”
She groans. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I mean, you don’t have to be there for it. We’ve gotten all of the filming we need out of you,” I say. “We just need your house now.”
“I feel like I should be there.”
“You really don’t have to be,” I say. If anything, it’s better if she’s not there so we can blow through filming and set up props or fake spooky scenarios if we need to keep the episode interesting. But I can’t exactly tell her that.
“I don’t have much of an option. It’s my house; I’m going to just keep living here. No matter what happens tomorrow, I’m…stuck. I’ll just have to make it work. And it’s not like I have anything better to do than spend time in my house, anyway, even if I’m not on camera.”
“It’ll be alright.” As soon as I say it, I know it’s lame. Lo is clearly upset; telling her it’ll be alright is just an empty promise. “Maybe we’ll figure out it’s all fine, and it really is just like a weird wiring issue or something. All hope is not yet lost.”
“Are you able to get rid of the ghost for me?” she asks.
My lips turn up in a smile. “That’s not really our specialty.”
“And to think my biggest concern yesterday was that I was going to look nuts for thinking there was a ghost in my house. Now, I’m like, so I have to sell my place?
Keep coexisting with some kind of paranormal entity that’s getting increasingly annoyed with me?
” She throws herself down onto the bed, her sun-kissed blonde hair falling over the side.
She turns to look at me, and I almost have to look away.
It’s hard to believe someone can really be that naturally beautiful.
“Do you really think there’s a chance it’s not a ghost? ”
“I think there’s always a chance it’s not a ghost. But we’ll see how tomorrow goes,” I say.
All day, I’ve been tossing around ideas in my head about what to do to keep this episode interesting—and believable.
Even with the weird things going on in the house, everyone is going to poke holes in it.
People love to watch a ghost show just to poke holes in it; I pride myself on being as solid as possible.
I want it to be so good that I can convince the skeptics of the world—people like myself—that we really did have a ghostly encounter.
It helps to play things up on camera, setting up practical effects and faking certain scenes to really sell people.
But with Lo there, I’m not sure there’s going to be a way to do that.
We’ll just have to hope we can cut things together to make it compelling, even without the record player incident caught on camera.
I could kill Andrew for getting us into this mess.
I’m starting to not regret it as a reason to be introduced to Lo, but I am regretting everything else about it.
This episode has been a complete mess. And even as someone who can crush several energy drinks in one day and survive off no sleep like any good member of production—I want my TV to be solid.
I don’t want to make an episode I don’t feel good about.
Lo turns her head and looks up at the ceiling. “I’m scared for tomorrow.”
“The, like, spiritual group or whatever? It’ll be fine.”
“No, I have a really bad feeling about the house. Things have always happened in it, but it seems like it’s getting exponentially worse. I’ve never felt the need to spend a night away from it; I’m worried about what’ll happen when we go back.”
Even I know when it’s not the right time to make a joke. “We’ll be there to look out for you. Nothing bad is going to happen.”
She sits up again and looks at me. Her hair is tousled now from the sheets, and all I want to do is run my fingers through it. And the look on her face is killing me—I’ve never viewed myself as a protector type, but I know I’d do anything to make Lo feel safe.
“At least it’ll be a good episode. And you have video proof now backing up your claims,” I say, trying to ease some of the heavy air that’s filled the room. I can tell Lo isn’t feeling one-hundred; it’s written all over her face and the way she’s picking at the material of the comforter.
“You really think it’ll be a good episode?”
“Yeah,” I lie. It’s not that I think it’ll be a bad episode, but I don’t know if it’ll be a complete slam dunk.
Shows that are at least a little scripted—even reality shows—tend to play out better than shooting raw footage and hoping for a story.
I like the security blanket of knowing what’s going to happen next.
But I can’t exactly tell Lo that without blowing everything up. “I can tell you’re an actress.”
Lo’s brows furrow for just a second. “Meaning?”
“You’re good on camera. Very well-spoken. I think no matter what happens, people will like seeing you on camera and hearing you talk about what’s been going on in your house. It’ll end up all being worth it, even if the episode is missing some bigger scary moments or whatever.”
Lo’s lips turn up in an amused smile. “Careful, saying too many nice things, Stevie, I might start thinking you have a soft spot for me,” she teases.
The way she says my name makes me so tongue-tied that I can’t think of a response, and I end up letting out an awkward chuckle instead.
“Is it okay if I shower?” Lo asks.
“Yeah, of course.” I hope my voice is more level and cooler to her than it sounds to me. My face lights up hot at the idea of Lo being naked in my general vicinity.
“Also…do you have any clothes?” she asks sheepishly. “I’m really sorry.”
“Oh. Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Of course,” I reach for my backpack and pull out the pajamas that I was going to wear tonight.
I hand off my clothes to Lo, and she looks at me. Neither one of us lets go of the clothes. “Am I asking too much of you? It’s okay, you can tell me. You’ve already been so nice, I don’t want to risk overstepping.”
“No, I promise—it’s really fine. You should be comfortable. I might not even sleep much tonight since I’ll be working on stuff anyway. I’ll just sleep in the shirt I’m wearing tomorrow, it’s not a big deal.”
“But you’re supposed to film in that.”
“People tend to like their paranormal investigators a certain amount of disheveled. It adds to the appeal.”
“Good point,” she says, and then finally takes the clothes from me. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, of course.”
I have to pull my eyes away from her as she heads away from me and toward the bathroom.