Good Spirits (Ghosted, #1)

by B.K. Borison

In addition to every person who has ever been even moderately important to me, I’m being ghosted by a literal ghost. My life is a joke.

“Lunch?” “I’m told that’s a thing people do.” She’s quiet for the stretch of three heartbeats. “It’s a thing people do,” she finally says. I laugh into my fist. “I’d like to be a person with you, Harriet.”

I let him pull me into his body, his arm over my shoulder and his hand spread over my collarbone. Possessive. I’m greedy for it—for the affection, the reassurance, the steady pound of his heart against my back.

How's he have a heart beat if he's a GHOST