“I’m not really someone guys wanna date,” she said quietly. “And, I mean, it’s not like I don’t have any friends. I just don’t get out much, so my friends are mostly from work.”
I pinched my lips around the end of the cigarette, considering how bold I was willing to be, and quickly decided that, fuck it, I had nothing to lose.
“Well, I wanna date you,” I declared.
“Jesus,” she said, barking with an abrupt laugh. “You don’t sugarcoat anything, huh?”
“Eh,” I shrugged, holding the smoke between two fingers, “I have too much to deal with to dance around this shit.”
“Yeah, I can understand that.”
“So, what do you say?”
“About what?”
For someone so initially outspoken, judging from our first encounter outside of the show, she was certainly acting clueless now, and that made me smile.
“Going out with me.”
“Oh.” She sighed, blowing a breath into the phone. “Y-Yeah. I’d like that.”
“Cool,” I replied smoothly, as if my stomach wasn’t flopping around with nauseating excitement. “One of my only friends has this bar I like to chill at sometimes, if you’re into that. He gives me a discount on wings and charges me nothing for a glass of Coke.”
Andy laughed, easy and light. “So, you’re a cheap date, huh?”
I shrugged. “Well, I don’t drink and I’m pretty easy when it comes to food. But if you had somewhere else in mind, that’s—”
“No. Wings and Coke sound good,” she interjected gently.
“Cool,” I repeated, relaxing against the building and realizing I hadn’t worried about Pops since dialing her number.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ANDREA
When had I last been on a date? I actually couldn't remember, and as I stared at my open closet, I thought about how pathetic that was. Nothing hanging or folded on the shelves was what I’d consider date appropriate, and I wanted to kick myself for not having the foresight to be at least a little prepared for the situation.
But then again, why would I have ever thought to prepare for this?
I plucked out a drab-looking floral dress that I’d worn to my grandmother’s funeral some years ago. There was still a stain over the right breast from where I’d dripped a blob of barbeque sauce, and it was the nicest thing I owned.
I narrowed my eyes at the little heart-shaped mark and remembered the meal that had put it there. “Those were really good ribs,” I muttered, glancing in Jamie’s direction. She rolled her eyes and cocked her head, eyeing me exhaustedly with her hands on her hips. “What? They were.”
Over the years, I’d learned to listen through the silence, and right now, Jamie was tired of my procrastination.
“What am I supposed to wear?” I asked, throwing the dress into the closet and not caring as it dropped unceremoniously to the floor. “I mean, we’re just going to a freakin’ bar, so how fancy do I really have to get?”
Jamie held up a hand, waggling it a bit in the air.
“I’m not saying I’m gonna wear my scrubs,” I replied dryly. “I’m just saying, it’s a bar. I don’t need a freakin’ ball gown.”
She dropped her gaze to my old, nearly-see through pajamas, and smirked.
“Knock it off,” I laughed boisterously. “I’m not wearing these either! But seriously, I have nothing to wear and I don’t have time to go buy anything. I’m meeting him at this place in just a few hours.”
Ever since I was a little girl and started to interact with the dearly departed, I had quickly learned that there was something keeping them tethered to the land of the living and prevented them from passing through the veil. Sometimes, it was a message they needed to give a loved one, other times, they were here to help someone pass into the next life. Often, it was easy enough to figure it out, like in the case of Mrs. Schrieber’s husband, who had been lingering by her bedside until the very moment she allowed her soul to let go. And although I despised not having a choice in possessing this gift, if I could even call it that, it was simple enough to help them leave.
But Jamie was another story. She never left, and while I sometimes wondered about that, I was also grateful to have a constant friend. One I didn’t have to hide from. And right now, I was grateful for her assistance, as she walked across the room to my dresser and pointed to a picture of my sisters and me. Smiling, I shot her a steady