Coma (Paranormal Romance) (5 page)

Maya honked in my driveway, prompting me to
go downstairs. As soon as Helen saw me walking out of my house, she
burst out laughing. Maya leaned over Helen from her seat to see
why, then burst out, too. I frowned, and entered the car.

“What? I did my best,” I said, grinning.
“This is
the
tightest pair of jeans I own.”

“Yeah, you did your best,” Helen turned
toward me, chuckling, “Hand it over,” she said, holding her hand
palm-up toward Maya who rolled her eyes, and then put a five dollar
bill in Helen’s hand.

“You bet on me?” I asked, open mouthed.

“Yap, and I won,” Helen smirked. “Maya was
fool enough to think you’d buy something new to wear,” she
giggled.

“Not fair!” I pouted.

“I’ll never give up hoping, though,” Maya
snickered, and hit the gas.

~*~

Brad’s place was just outside the town on a
lonesome estate, hidden away in the woods. When we arrived, the
place was already packed with people. Maya nagged about finding a
parking spot, and being late. I, on the other hand, was mesmerized
by the size of his house. It didn’t look that grand from the access
road. I wondered why his parents allowed him to have parties at a
place like that. The damage a bunch of high school and college kids
could do to this type of villa would be way too high of a price to
pay.

Maya and Helen straightened their perfect
little dresses, smoothed out some of the creases done by sitting in
a car, and motioned for me to follow them. Loud music coming from
the back yard made the impression the house was pulsating. Brad’s
face lightened up as soon as he zeroed in on Maya. He left his
company, and came to greet us.

“Glad you could make it,” he quipped on our
being late, and kissed Maya.

“Helen couldn’t be bothered to hurry up,”
Maya grimaced at Helen.

“Where’s Shawn,” Helen asked, glancing
around.

“My brother took him on a tour around the
house,” Brad said, pointing upstairs. “Can I get you girls
something to drink?”

As soon as Brad left to get us drinks, we
looked around the place. We were surrounded by a bunch of
unfamiliar people, neatly dressed, throwing occasional glances at
us over their drinks. Maya shifted her weight from foot-to-foot,
nervously twirling a strand of hair. Helen nudged her in the side
to stop it. Several unnaturally tanned guys that walked by, ogled
me from head to toe, commenting on my not so posh appearance. I
gave each of them the evil eye.

An hour into the party, I found myself alone,
sipping on a virgin colada. My girlfriends were busy slow dancing
with their boyfriends, so I found a refuge on a cocktail bar by the
pool. After I brushed off several poor attempts of hitting on me by
stuck up college boys, the bartender was kind enough to leave me
alone, and not try anything funny. The only thing he did offer was
to
spice up
my drink. The shock on my face made it more than
clear he was barking up the wrong tree.

The round of slow dancing was over, and
couples dissipated from the podium, leaving room for others to have
a go at it. Maya and Helen were busy mingling and leaving
impressions, so I didn’t want to disturb them by revealing my
position when Helen glanced around to find me. I took a step back
into the shadow. It was for the best. I was sure they didn’t need
me snapping at the type of crowd they were trying to impress. The
type that usually made my inner bitch come out and play.

When Helen stopped searching for me, I
stepped out of the shadow, and caught a glimpse of my paranormal
stalker. Unlike Helen, he didn’t search for me, his prying eyes
knew exactly where to find me. Staring back at him, I ordered
another virgin colada, fifth to be exact, wishing it was spiced up
this time.
He better hold his distance
—I thought, because
tonight I wasn’t in the mood to play hide and seek with him.

I devoted my attention to my drink, playing
with a little colorful umbrella. My stalker was still in my visual
field, sticking out of the crowd like an elephant in the hen house.
I giggled. At least we had one thing in common, neither of us fit
in. He belonged on a cover of Vogue magazine, and I on a milk cart.
I twirled the toothpick umbrella between my fingers, pondering how
it would be if he were real. Impudently, I scanned him from top
down. His lips curled into a smile. As if shielding himself from my
impure thoughts, he crossed his arms in front, bringing impeccable
biceps into my view. I giggled. I wouldn’t mind having those
wrapped around me. I picked up my glance, and stared at him
wistfully, biting my lip. Insolently, he stared back, wearing a
devilish grin as if he could read my mind. I sighed, saying, “Just
my luck,” flicking the little umbrella down the bar. The bartender
took that as a sign to get me another drink. Good. This one was
finished anyway.

Half way through my sixth colada, I felt the
need to sit down. I felt weak in my knees, and almost dizzy. My
stalker became blurry although he was still in the same place.
Walking away from the cocktail bar, I struggled to keep my balance,
thinking it was best to stay away from the pool till my poor legs
rested. Nobody used tartan chairs, so I went to crash into one. Oh
boy, did I crash. Several heads turned my way, commenting my wasted
status.
Wasted? I wasn’t wasted!
My hands hung loose on the
sides, but my legs felt better.

For some odd reason, my stalker decided it
would be okay to come closer. With tremendous effort, I raised my
glance and stuttered, “Didn’t I...tell you...to get the hell—”

“—you did,” he cut me off, and some heads
turned around to see why I was talking to myself. “So this is your
idea of fun?” He clasped the back of his neck, ogling me.

I grimaced, “Go away,” I waved my arm, and it
fell back to the side of a chair.

“You’re drunk,” he snorted, folding his arms
in front.

If only I could move, I'd get up and bite
that biceps. Did he say drunk?
I goggled my eyes, “I’m not—” I
paused, unable to form a coherent sentence. And then it hit me.
“That bastard!” I looked toward the bartender. “He messed with...my
virgin colada.”

His lips curled to the side, “How many did
you have?”

“Six,” I dropped my lower lip.

“And you didn’t taste the liquor?” He said,
and I wanted to wipe that smirk off of his face.

“No, asshole,” I glared at him. “That’s what
cocktails were invented for. To disguise the liquor.”

Out of nowhere, Maya and Helen appeared with
worried looks on their faces. My stalker winked, and distanced
himself.

“Lyra,” Helen squealed, sitting down. “What
happened? The word got out that some girl in jeans got wasted and
is talking to herself.”

“Not
myself
,” I snorted, having a hard
time keeping my eyes open.

“He’s here?” Helen glanced frantically around
us.

“Was,” I huffed. “Not anymore.”

“How much did you drink?” Maya said, her face
boiling with anger.

“Don’t know,” I breathed.

“What do you mean
you don’t know
? How
much?” Maya growled.

“Freaking bartender spiced up my drinks,” I
pointed my finger at him, and they both looked in that direction.
All of a sudden, instead of lighting up a line of B-52’s, the
bartender started jumping around, and screaming like a
five-year-old, because his apron was on fire. I chuckled. He took
it off, and jumped on it repeatedly, while the crowd laughed like
crazy. Only I could see the man responsible for his trouble. My
ghost stalker bowed toward me taking credit for the misdemeanor,
and left the scene.

~*~

Days went by without his appearance, but not
seeing him didn’t mean he wasn’t there. I was sure he was watching
just like he had before I knew he even existed. That state of
things was far worse than having to argue with him. Even in his
absence, he had an impact on my life, and that bothered me.
Anything was better than this status quo. I was glad he made his
grand entrance on Brad’s posh party since it was boring, and the
bartender stunt did get him some credit, but talking to him where
everyone could see did cause some damage. Now I was known in
college circles as “that psycho girl”. Maya and Helen did have a
point, whichever impression you left on that party would follow you
to college. Luckily, I wasn’t going to college, but I did have
paranormal situation to deal with.

Standing outside my house in our garden, I
decided to resolve that issue. I had to make him go away for good,
or be stuck with him for life. Fiddling with a rose petal, I took a
deep breath, then said aloud, “Are you here?”

“Mostly,” a familiar, deep voice replied
behind my back, startling me although I expected him to be
there.

“Oh, that’s creepy! Do you follow me into the
bathroom, as well?” It would be totally awkward if he did, and I
was powerless to do anything about it.

“No. Why would I spoil my lunch?” He said
casually, and I could have sworn there was a hint of a smile on
that stern face. His tall, lean figure moved gracefully between the
roses. With hands folded behind his back, he bent down to smell
one.

“Dead guys eat nowadays?” I replied, rustling
my fingers through leaves.

“Will you drop the dead thing? It makes you
sound...stupid,” he retorted, straightening his back.

“First you call me a brat, and now stupid?!”
I hissed, regretting my decision to call him. “Okay, pal, you’re
gonna have to find a new way with words, ‘cuz this ain’t getting
you any bonus points.” I crossed my arms, and glared at him.

“Let me lay it out for you, and then you tell
me what to call you,” he crossed his arms as well, rocking back on
his heels.

“Fine!”

“Apparently you define the living as being
able to interact with you,” he paused as if he expected my
reaction, so I confirmed with:

“Uh-huh.”

“Further, you define the dead as the opposite
of being alive, which would make them unable to interact with you,”
seeing where he was going with that, I opened my mouth to
contradict, but he continued, “As I’m clearly interacting with you,
that would make me very much alive. And you calling me dead would
then make you, what?”

“Misguided,” I huffed. “Certainly not
stupid!”

“And calling me dead repeatedly, even though
I told you I wasn’t, would make you, what?” He tilted his head,
raising a brow.

“Deaf?” I narrowed my eyes, not happy with
the way that conversation was going.

“So, will you withdraw your claws and act
like an adult?” He demanded, maintaining a perfect posture.

“No!” I said deliberately. Surprise flashed
in his amazing eyes, revealing a few dark teal specks that I didn’t
notice before. “You may have partially proven your point, Mr.
Spock, but there are other things besides logic to consider.” His
upper lip curled slightly, but that pissed me even more. “You see,
I’m a teenage girl, and acting as an adult isn’t exactly what
average teenage girls do! We have the right to be irrational,
illogical, spoiled, have fun, make repeated mistakes, and not think
of
not-dead
ghost’s problems. Would you care to define what
to call an adult that expects rational behavior from a teenager?” I
put my fists on my hips and spread my elbows as wide as I could.
Swiftly, he turned his back on me, and started slowly hovering down
the garden, but before he managed to turn in full, I caught a
glimpse of what looked like a repressed grin.

“I’m glad you find my logic hilarious,” he
said, and then turned back around to face me, “But it’s the only
thing keeping me sane in this extraordinary situation. On the other
hand, calling yourself average
is
quite amusing,” he
smirked, piercing my victory bubble. Annoyingly, nothing slipped by
him. He clung to my every word.

“I’m pretty sure we’ll never be able to get
along, so why don’t you make yourself scarce again.”

“Since you’re exhibiting cat-like behavior, I
should have known you’d get a thrill out of playing cat and mouse.”
Completely unexpectedly, he swished right into my face, stopping
only inches away. I could feel his breath touching my lips. I knew
he must have done that on purpose to throw me out of balance, so I
stared back at his mesmerizing eyes without blinking, then took a
step back and said, as calmly as I could:

“I’m not the one playing games here.”

“Oh, no?!” His brows shot up. “You send me
away, then you call me back, and then you push me away again. Kind
of resembles yo-yo, don’t you think?” A smug grin spread over his
face.

“Didn’t we cover that? I’m a stupid, average,
teenage brat, with irrational behavior. You’re one cocky, arrogant,
alive
ghost that got glued to my ass, and you bounce back
and forth as I walk. That must be the yo-yo effect you’re
experiencing,” a victory grin hijacked my face. At first, he looked
at me baffled, then his lips curled, and finally he burst out
laughing hard. In the midst of it—puff!—and he was gone. Ripples of
his laughter lingered in my ears as I watched an empty space in
front of me. “That was odd!” I said aloud.

Obviously talking got us nowhere. At least I
wasn't afraid of him anymore. He lost that scary edge, and now I
felt in control. I smiled to myself. Hell, I even felt a bit
curious about his not-dead situation. He was far more interesting
than any guys I knew; I had to give him that. Not to mention drop
dead gorgeous. The drop dead part made me chuckle.

~*~

Several days earlier, I saw our favorite
hanging place down at the beach was looking for a waitress. I never
waited tables before, but it would be a good starting point. Dad
had said he would help me find a job upon his return, but I was
sure he wouldn't mind me taking an opportunity such as this one. It
would be a perfect summer job until I looked for something
different. I called them and scheduled an appointment, and Maya
agreed to drive me there.