“I’m playing. Tell me, what’s up.” When I don’t speak right away, he continues. “I’m done. Promise.”
I let out a long sigh. “You sure?”
“Yep.”
“Very well, ummm.” I pause, mulling over the strength to open myself up to his teasing. “I kind of was planning to see more of the city . . .” I don’t say I need to see the city, but that’s the truth. I need to get over my fear, and he’s the only person I want with me when I do.
“And you need a kick-ass tour guide again?”
“Pretty much.”
“When were you thinking?”
“I’m free, pretty much always,” I admit. Because it’s true. Other than Friday nights, I don’t do much.
“I’ve got nothing today if you want to meet me?”
“Really?” I’m shocked that he doesn’t have plans. I would expect Jaxson to have plans every minute of the day.
“No. I’m lying.” Sarcasm drips off his voice, and even though he’s not here, I know he’s smirking. I can hear it as his voice taunts me. “When can you meet me?”
“Whenever.”
“I can pick you up at your apartment,” he says.
“Nope, I’m good. I’ll meet you.” No way can I tell him I live on my friend’s couch. Too many questions will arise, and I’m not prepared for an inquisition. Because that’s, for sure, what it would be. I know I’ll get grilled today, but this little sidestep could very well protect me from the brunt of it.
“Fine. Let’s meet. Say in one hour at Chelsea Piers.”
“Okay.” Interesting choice, but since I’ve never been there, I look forward to it.
“Dress warm, in layers.” It’s funny how he never wears a coat but always insists that I do.
“Got it, boss.”
“And Casper.”
“Casper?”
“Yeah, remember the ghost?”
I shake my head, but again, he can’t see me, so the movement was pointless. “I’m not a ghost . . .”
“No name, no apartment . . . you’re a ghost. But you’re a damn cute one, and I want to spend my day showing you the city, so don’t get pissy about the nickname. It works. Now as I was saying, see you soon.” He hangs up, leaving me with a quiet phone and my mouth hanging open. Casper. The first time he called me that, I ignored him. But this time . . . I’m not sure if I should laugh at his sense of humor or cry at the pathetic turn my life has taken. He has no idea how accurate he is.
I am a ghost.
No one back home knows where I am. I have no name. No job. No identity. And most of all, like a ghost, I wander the earth not even knowing or feeling alive anymore.
* * *
By the time I get to our meetup location, he’s already standing by the entrance of Chelsea Piers. He doesn’t see me at first because his back is against the wall and he’s looking down at his phone. Surprise, surprise, he’s not wearing a coat. Which I still find funny as he once again stressed how badly I needed one.
Nope.
He’s wearing a white thermal, ripped jeans, and Adidas shoes.
He looks younger today, donning a well-worked baseball hat. He doesn’t look like the billionaire I know him to be. No, he looks like the boy next door. The boy who would have climbed up your window when your parents were sleeping.
But knowing he’s Jaxson Price, I doubt there were any windows to climb. But I can still imagine it. His devastatingly handsome face, smirk and all. Brimming with the promise of a nighttime of fun. One where your parents would surely wake.
As if he can hear my rampant thoughts, his head lifts.
One . . . two . . . three . . .
And there it is.
Cue the smile.
Cue the incessant butterflies that form when he smiles at me.
I push them down. Because that is not why I’m here. I’m not here to let this man in my pants. I’m not here for a relationship.
I’m here for a friendship. For someone I can trust, and someone who can help me. And every time I see him again, I believe he might be that person.
It’s an added benefit that I like him, his funny and playful personality, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes.
I watch as he places the phone in his pocket as I make my approach.
“You’re late.” He smirks.
“I’m exactly on time.”
“Well, then I guess I must be early . . .”
“Ah, is that a first for you?”
“No comment,” he quips back.
“Must be your excitement to be my tour guide.”
“Definitely that. I’m beaming. Can’t you tell?” It comes out sarcastic, but I can see the mischief in his beautiful green eyes. The way the emerald orbs sparkle and gleam.
He is excited to show me around. And that notion does dangerous and treacherous things to my body.