Theoretically Perfect (Theoretically Straight #2)

9. Caleb

“Ghost tours, this way! Check in on the left! Sir, if you’re looking for the furry convention, you want the Marriott down the street.”

The lobby of the Kendling Hotel is far busier than you’d expect a one-hundred-year-old haunted hotel to be. A crowd of people wearing matching lanyards moves past us, led by a bored-looking tour guide dressed in an old-timey bellhop’s uniform.

He speaks with a monotone voice that can only be described as “boring enough to kill.”

“Here, you have the lobby, a place where guests would come to check in for their luxurious retreats. No photos, please.”

Ashley waits in the check-in queue lined with velvet covered stanchions, her phone out as she snaps pictures of the surrounding lobby, then quickly stows her phone before she’s caught by Mr. Lively over there. The rest of us have taken over a seating area off to the side by a coffee table covered in pamphlets for all of the different ghost tours and special events the hotel puts on. Apparently, we’re a week early for “Haunted hors d’oeuvres” in the dining room, which really does bring up a load of questions. Are the little quiches full of angry spirits? Do the serving trays float around the room? Is that really how you spell hors d’oeuvres?

“This place is nice. How many people died here, exactly?” Elise asks, propped up against Harrison on a tufted loveseat. They finally seemed to have gotten over whatever bickering was going on in the backseat on the trip down.

“A hundred and fifteen,” Wren answers, half of their face obscured by one of the colorful pamphlets. “A fire broke out, and apparently, there was only one staircase. Only the people from the third floor down made it. Well, and those that survived the jump. But that wasn’t very many….”

Elise blanches, and Harrison pats her leg gently.

“You watch way scarier stuff, babe.”

“Yeah, but this is real people,” she whispers back, still loud enough we all can hear.

“Ashley booked the full experience, too,” Oliver chimes in, looking up from his phone. His long legs are draped over the armrest of the chair he’s sitting sideways on. “We get to do the full tour tomorrow, but tonight, after dinner, we have two hours booked in one of the supposedly haunted suites on the thirteenth floor. I think it was the owners’ suite.”

“That’s so dope,” Theo says, squeezing my hand in an adorable display of excitement. He turns to me, flashing a goofy grin, and I can’t help but return the smile. Even if it feels like he’s been avoiding talking to me. “I call dibs on the dowsing rods first!”

Wren lowers the pamphlet, shooting Theo a baleful glance. “Over my dead body.”

“Be nice,” I fire back, sticking out my tongue at them for emphasis.

“What are we going to do in the meantime?” Harrison asks.

We all look to Oliver, who swipes on his phone and reads from the itinerary that Ashley made. “It says free time till dinner. I heard Ashley mention she was going to get a massage, so I think we’re on our own.”

Oh, good. Maybe I’ll get a chance to talk to Theo before we get too busy tonight. I just need to get him away from the distractions of our friends long enough to clear the air. Then maybe I can just relax and stop worrying about messing things up.

“Rooms are ready,” Ashley calls to the group, flashing a fistful of room keys. She hurries over excitedly, handing them out. “We’re on the sixth floor, boys in six-oh-six and the rest of us in six-oh-eight. I’m so excited! I haven’t had a sleepover since the times of Mary-Kate and Ashley.”

Wren raises an eyebrow, looking at me for a translation, but I only shrug. I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Is Mary-Kate a friend of yours?” Oliver asks.

“Olsen?” Ashley runs a hand through her hair, looking down at the ground and muttering to herself, “And no one understands that because none of you were born yet, so I’m going to pretend I never said anything. Cool, cool.”

The gang gathers up their luggage (Theo’s bag has a Hudson’s Haunted Habitats tag because of course it does), following Ashley to the elevator and piling inside. The walls are mirrored glass, so all I can see in every direction is an endless reflection of my friends. Elise and Harrison holding hands. Wren absorbed in a stack of pamphlets. Oliver and Theo chattering animatedly about ideas for recording tonight. And me, watching the boy I love nearly bubble over with excitement.

I wish I could share in it. But the weight of this unspoken thing between us is dragging me down.

With a dignified ding, the elevator spews us out onto the sixth floor, and we move in a huddled group, searching for our rooms. Once we find them, we split off, Ashley, Wren, and Elise heading into the first room while Oliver, Theo, Harrison, and I take the second. Oliver swipes the key on the door, letting us in. He lets out a huff. “Huh, for a haunted hotel, you’d think there’d be more spiderwebs.”

The inside of the room looks much like any other hotel I’ve stayed in–with the exception of that time my dad accidentally booked the “clown suite” on one particularly cursed summer vacation–with bland colored walls, a floor of musty carpet, and two beds nestled between the bathroom and the windows, overlooking the city. Theo rushes over to the curtains, drawing them back to get a glimpse of the street below. Another brick building faces us from across the way, but if I crane my neck hard enough, I can spot the Ferris wheel at Centennial Olympic Park.

Oliver splays out on one of the beds, his gangly limbs stretching from one side to the other as he lets out a sigh. “This is comfy. Where are you going to sleep, Harrison?”

Harrison shoves Oliver’s foot over, making room for him on the corner of the bed. “Next to you, Stretch. So keep your cold feet to yourself, and nobody will get hurt.”

Right. Sleeping arrangements. Theo and I are sharing a bed, which is definitely cool and not at all nerve-wracking. What if he freaks out again? I don’t know if I can stand another look like he gave me last week. It’ll destroy me.

Theo throws his duffle bag onto the free bed, giving me a crooked smile. “This is us, then.”

“Uh, yeah.” I follow suit, setting my stuff down on the comforter and trying to shake the worry from my head. Everything will be fine. Theo’s literally taken naps practically on top of me. We’ve been in the same bed before. This won’t be any different.

Except the last time we were on the bed….

“Can we talk soon?” I ask in a low voice.

“Hey, they’ve got an indoor pool,” Harrison says, looking up from his phone. “We should check it out!”

Oliver springs off the bed like a bullet, wrapping an arm around Theo’s shoulder and pulling him away before he can answer me. “What do you think, Theo? Haunted hotel pool party? It does have a certain ring to it. You can make it the new TikTok trend.”

Theo throws an apologetic look my way before saying, “Yeah, I mean, it sounds like fun. We can hang there till it’s time for the spooky stuff tonight. Harry, can you text the others and let them know the plan?”

“On it,” Harrison replies, pushing his glasses back into place as he types one-handed. He reaches for his bag next, pulling out his camera, then digging around for a second before grumbling something under his breath. “Shit, I think my charging cable fell out in the van. I’m going to go down and see if I can find it.”

Okay, cool. Maybe Oliver will go with him, and then Theo and I can get a second to clear the air–

“I’ll come with,” Theo says. “I wanted to go down to the lobby anyway and see if they have earplugs. Harry, I love you to death, man, but your snoring is going to keep me awake all night.”

Harrison rolls his eyes. “It’s not that bad.”

“Grab me some too?” Oliver asks, falling back onto the bed. “Sorry, Harry, but you’re a freaking freight train. I keep thinking you’re going to swallow your tongue.”

“At least I don’t talk in my sleep,” Harry fires back. “Theo over here will have a full-ass argument with himself.”

I snort a laugh. I’ve only ever heard him mumble when he nods off. “Oh great, so what you’re saying is that no one is going to be getting any sleep tonight?”

“If you’re lucky,” Oliver quips, flashing me a sly grin.

Theo opens the door to the room abruptly, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll be back.” Harrison scrambles after him, the heavy door shutting with a loud thunk.

There he goes again. Running away from me instead of talking. I sink onto the edge of the bed, a sigh of frustration escaping.

“That bad, huh?” Oliver is propped up on his side, looking over at me. “Something going on with you two?”

“What makes you say that?”

Oliver quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can tell when something is going on with one of my best friends and his boyfriend? Give me a little more credit, Caleb. We’ve been over this—I may be beautiful, but I’m not dumb.”

Okay, so Theo obviously hasn’t talked to his friends about what’s going on. Which doesn’t make me feel any better, honestly. It just means that whatever is happening in his head, he’s going at it alone.

“We had a… misunderstanding, I guess. And he keeps telling me that he’s fine, that we’re fine, but we’re not. And he won’t talk to me about it. I’m just so frustrated.”

I blink a few times to get rid of the moisture that builds in the corner of my eyes.

Oliver runs a hand through the ends of his ponytail. “Theo is a tough nut to crack. Trust me, he doesn’t just do this to you.” Oliver sits up, tucking his legs under him. “A few years back, when the panic attacks were getting really bad, he did the same thing to me and Elise. We knew something was going on, but he just kept telling us everything was fine. It wasn’t till he had a full-on attack in the middle of school assembly that we got the whole story. You see, he’s got this image of himself, this perfect picture in his head of the person that he aspires to be. And that’s what he wants people to see. This illusion he’s created. It’s like he’s scared to let anyone see him any differently. Even his friends. Even you, I guess.”

“But he doesn’t have to be that way with me,” I argue, the heat behind my eyes building again. “After everything we went through just to be together, why would he keep something from me like that?”

“Look, I may not be dating him, but I know Theo. He’s obviously in his head about something. What exactly was this misunderstanding about?”

“It’s, uh… personal. Sorry.”

Oliver’s expression twists in confusion. “Now I’m even more curious. But, hey, I’m not trying to pry. Look, the point is, Theo is the way he is. He’s always going to overanalyze everything, and he’s going to bust his ass trying to make things perfect.”

“But if he just told me what was going on, maybe I could help him.”

“Maybe,” Oliver says, giving a shrug. “And maybe he’s not ready to share that part of himself with you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

Oliver leans back on his hands with a smug grin. “See? Told you I was too smart to be a himbo.”

Could it be that Theo doesn’t want to open up to me? That he’s keeping secrets? Does that mean he doesn’t trust me? That this illusion of perfection he’s displaying is more important to him than being honest with me?

This fucking sucks.

“I’m going to get changed for the pool,” Oliver says, nabbing his bag from the floor. “Can’t wait to get drowned by a ghost.”

The bathroom door closes behind him with a click , and I quickly wipe away the tears that have spilled over.

I wish a ghost was the most of my troubles.

The pool, it turns out, is not haunted. At least, not by ghosts. What we do find is a gaggle of old ladies participating in some sort of underwater yoga class, complete with noodle floaties and an instructor who looks like he was pulled off the cover of one of my Nana’s romance novels. He speaks in a soothing, deep tone, and his hair never gets wet, no matter how violently the class splashes.

So, we hang out in the hot tub till the old ladies vacate the area, and by the time we’ve all gotten pruney and waterlogged, it’s time for us to get cleaned up for dinner.

Theo doesn’t avoid me, per se, but every time we end up even remotely alone, he makes an excuse to leave or calls Harrison over to ask a question about tonight’s camera setup or breaks away to do a cannonball in the deep end of the pool.

I’m fuming by dinnertime as we enter the hotel restaurant. My frustration has built to volcanic levels, and I could blow at any second, turning my friend group into the new Pompeii.

I hang back from the group as Ashley speaks to the guy at the host stand.

“What is your deal?”

Wren appears beside me, their arms folded across their chest. Their black hair is swept to the side in a messy taper, and their outfit of a black button-down on black jeans is just so perfectly Wren.

“I don’t have a deal,” I say, tugging at the cuffs of my sweater. Even with Wren, there’s an edge in my voice. The threat of eruption is nearing cataclysmic.

“Bullshit,” Wren breathes. “Now out with it because I’m not going to sit through an entire dinner of you moping around like you’re the lone survivor of Slumber Party Massacre 3. ”

“I’m not moping,” I say, and even I can hear the petulance in my voice.

“Caleb, seriously, I’m starting to get worried. You’re in a haunted hotel with your amazing friends, Oliver’s try-hard stepmom, and your adorable boyfriend. What could possibly be the problem?”

“It’s nothing,” I say through an exhale, dragging a hand through my chlorine-stiff hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll try and pep myself up.”

Elise waves from the host stand, the sleeve of her lavender dress billowing. “Wren, Caleb, our table’s ready!”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Wren asks, making it a point to stare me down. “Because dinner can wait a few minutes.”

“No, I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

Wren wraps an arm through mine as we follow the others into the dining room, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t help. At least a little.

Much like the pool, the dining room is also free of any ghosts or ghouls. Unless you count the guy with the shock of white hair who serves us dinner, but let’s be fair, he’s got at least a couple of years left before he’s haunting anyone.

I do my best not to sour the mood, and every time Wren makes eye contact with me from across the table, I slap on a smile, if only to prove I’m trying. But I haven’t forgotten my conversation with Oliver from earlier, and even though Theo is sitting right next to me, laughing along with his friends, I’ve never felt further away from him.

That sentiment isn’t helped when Theo pulls out his phone in the middle of dinner to answer a text. I can’t help myself but look over his shoulder and spot the name “Jake” at the top of the conversation. I also can’t help but notice the slight twist of a smile on his lips as he types his reply, and I have to make myself look down at my plate of alfredo pasta to avoid a complete spiral.

So what if he’s talking to another guy? The guy that he didn’t want to talk about this morning in the car. The guy who, apparently, he’s been hanging out with and not telling me about. It’s not like he’s into him.

Right?

The idea worms its way deeper into my head, and I spend the rest of dinner pushing my pasta around my plate and trying not to puke.

After dinner, it’s time for us to head up to the suite. We go back to our rooms first for a quick change and to grab all of the gear we need. Theo is in high spirits, and Harrison and Oliver seem just as excited as they test the devices that Ashley ordered from some site her friends run. There’s a lot of beeping and white noise, so I assume they work as intended.

I get changed in the bathroom, trading my sweater and slacks for a hoodie and my comfort jeans. My hair is still a mess of curls from the pool, but there’s no helping that now. I finish getting dressed, but I linger, staring past my reflection in the mirror.

Maybe I should skip out on the activities tonight. Theo is so stoked, and I don’t want to be a wet blanket with my moodiness. Then again, if I don’t go, he’ll probably spend the whole night worried that he did something wrong, and I’ll have ruined his night either way.

Come on, Caleb. Get it together.

A soft knock on the door, and Theo’s face appears in the crack.

“Hey, are you ready to go?”

He’s practically beaming with excitement, and his mischievous grin melts my insides till they pool in my stomach. Stupid Theo and his stupid smile.

I can’t let this go. I have to talk to him before I explode.

“Theo, can we please talk for a second?”

His grin fades a bit as he straightens, pulling the door open and stepping inside. “What’s wrong?”

How do I even begin? I have so many thoughts buzzing around my head I can’t even manage a coherent question. But they’re all racing to the surface and before I can stop myself, I’m saying, “You’re avoiding me. And I know you said you’re fine and that I didn’t do anything wrong, but I don’t believe you.”

Theo bristles, closing the door behind him. “Wh–what are you talking about?”

“I messed up–crossed some kind of line, and you won’t tell me what it is. I can’t keep pretending like there’s nothing going on because you want this–” I gesture between us, “to be perfect. It’s killing me.”

“Caleb, slow down, you’re not–”

“I get it, you know if you’re having second thoughts about me. I know that you’re still working through things, so if you’re regretting rushing into a relationship, you can just tell me.”

There it was. The unspoken anxiety that’s been clawing at my mind since he ran away from me. I push down my encroaching thoughts of whoever “Jake” is, waiting for Theo to answer.

He looks like he wants to throw up. I do want to throw up.

“That’s not–I’m not regretting you, Caleb. I love you.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me? Why won’t you tell me why you ran away that night?”

Another soft knock on the door and Oliver’s voice comes through. “Guys, Ashley’s here, and we’re ready to head up to the suite.”

“Be out in a second,” Theo calls through the door. He takes a step closer to me, but I back away, bracing myself against the counter because, at this point, I really do feel like I’m going to be sick. “Caleb, please, I just need a little more time. I promise I’ll have everything figured out soon. You don’t have to worry about this–”

“But I’m right here, Theo. If I’m not the problem, then let me help you. Talk to me!”

Theo digs his fingers into the back of his neck, letting out a sigh. The voices of the others drift under the door as Harrison and Oliver join the group out in the hallway.

“I’m sorry.” My voice is a whisper. I close my eyes, wishing I had stayed quiet. “I know this isn’t fair. I’m putting you on the spot. It’s just… I love you, Theo. And I can’t stand the thought of being the reason you’re hurting.”

He doesn’t respond, his hands clenched tightly at his side, the line of his jaw taut. A banging on the wall outside the bathroom makes us both jump. Elise’s muffled voice streams through, “Come on, lovebirds, get a move on!”

At last, Theo looks at me. His eyes wide, and his breathing erratic. And his lips part, finally ready to let those walls crumble down and let me in. But then he turns his back, opens the door and leaves without a word.

Again. He’s running away from me for a second time. I would be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. But there’s something more than just hurt bubbling in my gut. It’s anger, billowing like sails catching a newfound wind as it swells within me.

How can Theo say he loves me, then walk away from me?

Propelled by it, I follow him out of the bathroom and through the heavy door to the hallway. The gang's all here, including Ashley, who herds us towards the elevator, checking the time on her phone. Theo keeps his distance from me, Harrison and Elise serving as a buffer between us. Wren falls to the back of the group as we wait for the elevator at the end of the hall, positioning themselves at my side.

“Are you okay?” they whisper, “your face looks like a tomato.”

“Fine,” I manage through clenched teeth.

The elevator doors open, and there are already two people waiting inside as the crew piles in.

“We’ll catch the next one,” Wren announces, holding onto my elbow. “Save some ghosts for us.”

Theo watches me till the doors close, his expression somewhere between pained and annoyed. I know the feeling.

“Now do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

I press the “up” button, watching the arrow light up.

“Not really, no.”

Wren snorts a laugh. “Too bad, do it anyway.”

“Leave it alone, Wren.”

They cross their arms, brow furrowing. “Fine. Suffer in silence. See if I care.”

Great, now I feel guilt on top of all of this anger. What else could go wrong?

The elevator arrives, and Wren and I ride in silence up to the thirteenth floor, where we find the rest of our group getting a rundown by one of the staff members outside of Suite 1313.

“--screaming to a minimum if possible. At the end of your allotted time slot, a member of our concierge staff will alert you and we’ll kindly ask that any activities be wrapped within a timely fashion to make way for the next group. Now, are there any questions before you go inside?”

Ashley raises her hand, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The exasperated staffer gives her a nod. “What apparitions do people usually see in this suite?”

“We’ve had reports of the original owners, Charles and Clara Kendling, appearing in the boudoir–”

“The boo-what?” Elise asks loudly.

“The bedroom,” the staffer explains through a sigh. “And, of course, there’s also been recent sightings of the Newport Newlyweds.”

“Who?” Elise questions.

“A young couple who died in this suite back in the sixties. Suite 1313 was the honeymoon suite for a number of years after they rebuilt from the fire, but after the Newport Newlyweds were found murdered in their wedding bed, no one has been allowed to stay here overnight.”

“Murdered?” Ashley squeaks, although it sounds like more of an excited noise than scared. “Oh! I think I heard about them on the Murders and Muffins podcast!”

The staffer does their best to hide the roll of their eyes. They step aside, flinging the door to the suite open. “Please enjoy yourselves, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything during your stay.”

I follow Wren in after everyone else, the door shutting with a creak behind us.

The suite has been restored to its original 1930s glory, complete with crystal light fixtures, elegant wallpaper from corner to corner, plush carpets, and even an old-school rotary phone on the table by the couch. From the sitting room, a pair of glass doors leads into the bedroom, where a king-size bed is made up with a dozen throw pillows. In the opposite direction, a small kitchenette with marble counters and one of those retro refrigerators with rounded edges. Across from the entrance, huge windows overlook the city of Atlanta–a more spectacular view here than the sixth floor–alight with life.

A thrill shoots through me, tamping down the heat of my anger like a cool breeze. No matter what’s going on between Theo and me, I can’t deny that this is so fucking cool.

“Does anyone else feel that?” Elise asks, wrapping her arms around herself. “It’s freezing in here.”

Ashley steps over to the thermostat, pressing a button to make it light up. “That’s because they have the AC cranked down to sixty. It’s like someone invited Elsa to live here, am I right?”

Oliver shoots her a look, and she immediately cringes.

“Sorry, Bella is obsessed with that movie. I could probably quote it front to back.”

“Please don’t,” Oliver adds, pulling out one of the devices from his pocket and switching it on. “Okay, Theo, Harry. Where do we want to set up?”

“The bedroom has the most activity,” Harrison says, and Elise giggles at his side. “So, maybe we start there and work our way through the place?” He sets his camera bag down on the long table that runs behind the couch, unzipping it.

“Yeah,” Theo agrees, his voice soft. He clears his throat then continues, “That sounds good. At Saint Catherine’s, it was kind of a lucky thing, so let’s just start recording, and we’ll see what we can find.”

Oliver starts to distribute the instruments among the group, taking his role as tech support very seriously. He hands a small black box–an ambient temperature sensor, he explains–to Elise. Then, another similarly shaped instrument to Ashley.

“Sweet! The spirit box! I’ve been wanting to play around with it.” She switches it on, and radio static emanates from it.

Next, he hands me two rods, bent at a ninety-degree angle, but Wren quickly snatches them from me.

“I already called the dowsing rods,” they say plainly, brandishing them like it was any other day. Something tells me they’ve had previous experience with these.

“That just leaves the EMF meters,” Oliver says, holding up the two identical black devices. He hands one to me, and I study the row of red lights that run along the top. “The on switch is at the bottom,” Oliver adds, giving me a wink.

“Thanks, I couldn’t have figured that out myself.”

Oliver’s smile fades a bit, and I immediately add, “Sorry. Thanks, Oliver.”

“Sure thing,” he replies, a little less pep in his voice.

Damn, I’m like a walking time bomb. Who knows who I’m going to end up exploding on?

Everyone powers on their devices, a cacophony of beeps filling the space to the point that I plug one of my ears.

“Spread out!” Harrison calls over the noises, pulling on the neck strap of his camera. He holds it up, peering through the lens before snapping a shot of the sitting room.

Theo heads towards the bedroom, so I move in the opposite direction, moving over to the tiled floor of the kitchen. I shiver, which isn’t weird seeing as it’s only slightly warmer than the winter weather outside. This side of the suite quiets down once the others have spread out, and I hold up my EMF meter, watching for any of the lights to come on. When Hudson does this on Triple H, the lights always seem to go on at the perfect moment in the video, but I assume that’s just a trick of good editing. Who knows how long he has to stumble around a place before he gets anything interesting?

Curiosity ends up getting the better of me, and I set the EMF meter on the counter as I explore the small kitchen. The tiled floor is a checkered black and white pattern, and a bowl of wax fruit sits on the countertop, a layer of dust clinging to the faux grapes and apples.

These ghosts need to get better housekeeping.

I wonder if they even care about that kind of thing once they’re no longer among the living. It must be kind of peaceful, not having to worry about the mundanity of cleaning or eating or any of the annoying things that it takes to stay alive. Or relationships, for that matter. A ghost doesn’t get angry when their boyfriend ignores them or keeps secrets. A ghost doesn’t have to tiptoe around a problem, waiting for their ghoul-friend to decide whether or not to let them in. And a ghost definitely doesn’t have to worry about their significant other texting other boys who they don’t want to talk about.

Ghosts have it so easy.

A crackling noise pulls my focus, sending a wave of goosebumps across my arms. On the counter, the small black box emits the crackling sound again, the first of the lights flashing for a moment, then going dark. I rush over to the EMF meter, my heart pounding as I scoop it up. As soon as my hand touches it, the light comes on again, the crackling noise returning.

Holy shit, does this mean there’s actually something here with me?

I scan my surroundings, looking for anything that might confirm my suspicions. I hold the device out in front of me, slowly sweeping it through the air. I take a step further into the kitchen and the light flashes again, another round of the noise. Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Wren closest by, standing by the window.

“Wren!” I whisper loudly. “Over here!”

“Did you get something?” they ask, crossing into the kitchen. As soon as Wren makes it over to me, the second light illuminates as well, the crackling noise getting louder. “Oh fuck! What do we do?”

“I don’t know!” I say, still whisper-yelling.

“I could try and ask it a question?” Wren suggests, holding up the dowsing rods. They point away from them, towards a small breakfast nook in the corner of the kitchen. “Maybe they’ll answer?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” I agree, moving a step closer to the table. The third light on my device lights up, the noise getting louder still.

Wren clears their throat, holding their arms out straight. “I’m going to ask you some questions if that’s okay?” they pause, as if waiting for a response. “Oh, shit. Sorry. Um, cross the rods for yes and spread them apart for no. Do you understand?”

We both hold our breath as the lights on the EMF meter flash for a moment, then the rods tip towards one another, crossing.

“Oh my god,” Wren breathes, their face paler than I’ve ever seen as they straighten the rods back to face away. “Okay, um. Shit. I can do this. Uh, are you one of the owners? The Kendlings, I mean?”

The rods remain motionless for a long moment, then slowly spread apart.

“I can’t believe this is happening–oh fuck!” I realize that neither of us are filming this. I tiptoe over to the counter, trying not to move my arm too much and keep the device pointed at the table. “Harrison! Theo!”

Theo is the first to pop his head through the double doors leading to the bedroom.

“We’ve got something over here,” I say, still afraid of raising my voice over a whisper.

“Harry, Oliver, come on,” Theo says, moving quickly across the suite, his phone in hand.

Wren stands perfectly still, their nostrils flared as they take careful, steadying breaths. “What should I ask next?”

“Have you been getting clear responses?” Theo asks, holding his phone up to eye level.

“So far,” Wren says.

“Can’t imagine what that’s like,” I say, cutting a look over at Theo. It’s petty, I know, but I’m still so mad at him, ghosts or no ghosts.

Theo ignores my jab and Harrison joins us in the small kitchen, hovering behind because there’s not enough room for us to stand side-by-side.

“Ask if they died here,” Theo says.

Wren nods, repeating the question. The rods slowly drift inwards, crossing.

“That means yes.”

“Shit,” breathes Harrison behind me.

“God,” mutters Theo at the same time.

“We should try and find out who they are,” I say, taking another careful step towards the table. The fourth light illuminates on the EMF meter, and the speaker pops loudly.

“Are you one of the newlyweds?” Wren asks after straightening the rods again.

The four of us hold a collective breath till the rods cross once more.

“Are you both here?”

Again, the rods cross.

“What’s going on in there?” Oliver calls from the sitting room.

“Shhh!” we all shush him.

“Whoa, whoa, what did I do?”

“Don’t scare away the spirit, man!”

It’s Harrison’s turn to whisper-yell.

Wren looks back to Theo, “What else should I ask?”

“Ask if they were murdered,” he says after a moment. “Harrison, quick, get some shots of the table.”

The shutter sound on Harrison’s camera sounds under Wren’s question, and the rods separate.

“No?” Theo questions, looking back at Harrison. “That tour guide is going to get an earful later.”

“How did they die then?” Harrison asks.

“Maybe it was a lover’s spat,” Oliver suggests, leaning over from the other side of the counter.

“That can’t be right,” Theo disagrees.

“One way to find out,” Wren says, turning back to the table. “Did you two fight before you died?”

The rods cross.

“That doesn’t mean they killed each other,” Theo argues, his voice louder.

“I don’t know, man,” Oliver chimes in. “I’ve heard enough of Ashley’s podcasts to know a crime of passion when I hear one.”

“Yeah,” I agree, not so much because I believe Oliver, but mostly because I want to disagree with Theo. “Maybe one of them was keeping a secret from the other.”

Theo’s eyes are on me, and the corner of his mouth twitches. More camera shutter sounds.

“Did one of you keep a secret from the other?” Wren asks. The rods cross again.

“This is getting juicy,” Oliver murmurs. Harrison stands on his tiptoes to shoot over our heads.

“I’m sure there was a good reason,” Theo says, voice still too loud. “Ask if they had a good reason.”

“Uh, did you have a good reason?”

The rods don’t move.

“It doesn’t matter the reason,” I say, moving towards Theo. Harrison steps back out of my way. “They shouldn’t keep things from each other if they love one another.”

“And why is that?” Theo replies, his phone lowering to his side as he steps to meet me. “Maybe they kept it to themselves because they were afraid of hurting each other!”

“They’re already hurting each other!” I exclaim, matching his volume. “So they might as well hurt each other with the truth!”

“But what if it blows up their relationship?” Theo retorts, moving another step closer. “It’s not worth it if they love each other!”

I let out a grunt of frustration. “Wren, ask them if they think it’s worth it.”

Wren lowers the rods. “Um, we’re not talking about the ghosts anymore, are we?”

Harrison and Oliver exchange a look and step out of the kitchen. Theo stands almost toe-to-toe with me, his chest heaving with quick breaths. I’m panting too, I realize, the embarrassment of the moment sinking in as we stand in awkward silence.

I slam the EMF meter on the counter. “Forget it then. I’m done.”

Pushing past Theo, I head for the door, not pausing to see if he follows. Out in the hall, I follow the sign to the staircase, maneuvering through the heavy door and starting my descent from the thirteenth floor.