Companion Plant 🍃 10:10 PM: Wow. That was a long lecture even by Kent standards

Me 10:10 PM: Did he threaten to murder you if you do it again?

Companion Plant 🍃 10:11 PM: Suffice it to say no more impromptu trips out of town for me for a while.

Me 10:11 PM: Ha! You’re like thirty and you’re grounded

Companion Plant 🍃 10:11 PM: 😑 I am 26 just like you and you know it.

Me 10:12 PM: Did Kent actually lecture you for hours? I was starting to think you changed your mind about texting me 😞

Companion Plant 🍃 10:12 PM: No no I just needed a nap and a long shower, I’ve barely slept since the Fling Thing. Plus needed a little time to think.

Me 10:12 PM: You think too much

Companion Plant 🍃 10:13 PM: Or do you think too little?

Me 10:14: Rude? Believe me I’ve been thinking hard all day. Like about how you said you’re SERIOUS about me.😊 So embarrassing for u

Companion Plant 🍃 10:14 PM: PLEASE do not

Me 10:14 PM: That’s so dorky, that’s all I’m saying. Who just tells someone that

Companion Plant 🍃 10:15 PM: That’s funny, I have a few voicemails here that suggest you feel the same way.

Me 10:15 PM: 😦😦😦😦😦 NOOOOOOO I WAS GONNA TELL YOU TO JUST DELETE THOSE WHY DIDN’T YOU TEXT ME SOONER UGH

Companion Plant 🍃 10:15 PM: 😇

Me 10:15 PM: I hate you. Evil yeti bastard-man goon

Companion Plant 🍃 10:16 PM: Yeti?

Me 10:16 PM: Because you’re ten like feet tall. And uncivilized. And because you disappear into the woods like a lunatic survivalist sometimes

Companion Plant 🍃 10:17 PM: Hah.

Companion Plant 🍃 10:17 PM: I miss you.

Me 10:17 PM: I miss you too. You know what I’ve been thinking about?

Me 10:17 PM: [Audio Message 1:22]

Me 10:17 PM: 😉😉😉

Companion Plant 🍃 10:20 PM: Holy fucking shit. Jesus Christ. You’re a little demon, you know that?

Me 10:20: Wait a minute. Are YOU a demon? That would explain everything, omg

Companion Plant 🍃 10:20 PM: Absolutely not.

Me 10:20 PM: IT ALL MAKES SENSE. Glowing eyes. Tricky tongue. Trying to lead me into temptation

Companion Plant 🍃 10:20 PM: I’m sorry????? I’M leading YOU into temptation? Do I need to refer you back to the audio message you sent me like three minutes ago?

Me 10:21 PM: Yeah, uh, maybe delete that? Nobody should ever hear it but you

Companion Plant 🍃 10:21 PM: Nope. Saved and downloaded, just like the voicemails.

Me 10:21 PM: Omfg. I keep setting myself up for disaster. Why why why

Companion Plant 🍃 10:21 PM: You know, if we both miss each other, maybe you should come over.

Me 10:22 PM: So it wouldn’t be weird if I was already outside kinda hoping you would say that?

~~~~

I see a movement behind the curtains, and then the sliding glass door is pushed back. Aiden stands there in grey cotton shorts and a loose white t-shirt, a sun-bright smile on his face. His hair is damp, presumably from the shower he referenced a few minutes ago. His phone is in his hand, still open to our conversation.

“Seriously?” he laughs, and pulls me inside. “How long have you been out there?”

“Like five seconds.” I wait impatiently as he slides the door shut after us, then reach up to twine my arms around his neck. “I couldn’t chill out, so I went for a walk, and then I just... ended up here.”

“Do you mean to tell me you left that voice message while walking around? In public?” Aiden gathers me into the warm valley of his arms, his fingers spreading out over my lower back, the amusement on his face obvious.

“It’s not like anybody was around,” I insist, and he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Was that weird of me?”

“So weird.” He leans down and presses a kiss against my neck, pulling me closer, teasing his lips along my throat. “You’re such a freak. I feel sorry for whoever ends up stuck with you.”

“Oh, wow.” I’m trying hard to sound mad, but his kisses are traveling down my neck to the slope of my shoulder, and he lingers on the last one, taking a little skin between his teeth. “Wow wow wow. What a rude - jerk - thing to say. You jerk-face. You bastard. You-”

In one swift movement, Aiden scoops me right off the ground and staggers towards the bed. Throws me down on it and climbs over me, his knees sinking into the mattress. My hands fly up to curl around his biceps, settle over the whipcord muscle there. He leans his face into my neck again and nips my earlobe, his warm breath spilling across my skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“You bully,” I breathe, my voice roughening with each word. “You giant - ah! - you, you -”

“Jesus Christ, Keane,” he murmurs, smiling against my neck. “You never stop talking.”

Oh, my god. He hasn’t called me Keane once since high school, and I have no idea what would rise it out of him right now. It used to make my blood boil when he called me that, and I discover that it still does now, but in an entirely different way. Suddenly I’m no longer content to sit here and let him do everything.

I shove him off of me, pushing him onto his back. He lands with a bounce, surprised. I fling a leg over him, bracket him with my knees. He lets out a low groan as I settle my weight onto him and graze my mouth up his throat. His head tips back, exposing all the vulnerable parts of his neck, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him think he’s the only one who knows what he’s doing.

I place long, slow, luxurious kisses on every spot of moonlight across his neck and face. My hands start exploring the valleys and ridges of his body, and I feel his muscles grow increasingly tense and taut with every touch. I’m focused, but also enjoying each shudder and halting breath I’m drawing from him, opening my eyes every now and then to look at his face, his lip held between his teeth, his eyebrows drawn up, his cheeks burning… Until he drags me back up for a hungry kiss. His fingers stroke my hair, the back of my neck, and I decide to punctuate the kiss with a deep roll of my pelvis, grinding him down into the mattress. He buries a soft curse in my mouth.

Something explodes. We both look up just in time to see a small shower of glass tumbling from Aiden’s kitchen counter. 

Whoops. I have to wonder what the hell would have happened if I’d let my fingers drift a little lower.

“Uh oh.” I sit up, panting, pulling my hand out from under his shirt. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’ll replace that.”

“You’re fine.” Aiden smiles up at me, his eyes blazing, and traces a finger along my jaw. “Worth it.”

I look down at him, absorb the image for a moment.

“You look good from this angle,” I tell him, and he lets out a soft chuckle.

“Likewise.”

“Is the glass exploding our signal to stop?”

“Yes, I think it is.”

I want to groan in frustration, but I don’t want to make him feel bad, not even for one second, so. I climb off of his lap, fanning my face, drifting down from the dopamine trip I just went on. He sits up next to me, surprises me by leaning his head on my shoulder. I turn and bury my nose in his hair, take a deep breath of the vetiver scent always clinging to him.

I notice that all of the windows are open again, smile to myself, and rest my cheek against the top of his head.

“Do you want me to go?” I murmur.

“Mmm. No. Stay.” He hesitates. “I do think we need to take a break from that, though. I don’t want to destroy Kent’s house. If that’s cool.”

“That’s cool. We can do something else for a bit.”

He lifts his head from my shoulder, leans into my face again, and brushes his nose over mine.

“One more,” he murmurs, coaxing my lips open for a kiss.

Aiden Callahan: exploder of reading glasses, melter of limbs.

~~~~

“Um. Jamie.”

I freeze in my doorway and drop my keys. They clatter to the floor, where they make a ridiculously loud sound. Swearing, I stoop to grab them, wondering who the hell let themselves into my apartment - before remembering that I have a roommate now.

“Kasey,” I sputter, pressing my fingers to my chest. “You scared me.”

“Oh, my god,” she says, staring at me. “What happened to you?”

“What?”

“Look at yourself.”

I check the mirror in my hallway and immediately see her point. My hair is completely fucked up, my lips and cheeks far redder than normal, my flannel hanging off of one shoulder and pulling on my t-shirt.

“Oh. I, um. Told Aiden that I like him. Sort of. In a way.”

Kasey’s eyes widen, and a devilish grin spreads across her face.

“Oh. My. Fucking. God. It’s three in the morning. Did you just come back from his place?”

“Yeah, he fell asleep, I didn’t know if he wanted me to stay over, or… stop making that face, stop it. We were just watching a few episodes of Twin Peaks.”

“Jamie!” she blurts out, and I break and match her grin. I open my arms as she races into them, squeeze her as best as you can squeeze someone who isn’t physical. “Aww! I told you.”

It’s good that I love talking so much, because she missed a lot. I fill her in on everything up to the present moment, leaving out some details about what Aiden and I were just up to. My heart trips over itself when I think about it. His arm looped around me in bed, his laughter at the more absurdly dramatic parts of Twin Peaks. The breaks we took from watching the show, to make out until something broke. It’s been a long, stupidly dreamy night.

“I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen you this happy,” Kasey says, her head tipped to the side. “I can’t fucking believe that Aiden would ever put that look on your face. Of all people.”

“I know.” It keeps occurring to me how insane it is. I would have laughed a lung out if someone had told me in high school that I’d ever be friends with him, much less all this. “Where have you been, by the way? I thought you were going to come to the Fling Thing. I tried to summon you while I was there.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I changed my mind.”

I examine her for a moment.

“You’ve been with William, haven’t you?”

She nods, smiles.

“You’re not the only one looking for love in unexpected places, Jamie.”

“Who said anything about love?” I sputter, suddenly feeling very much on the defensive.

“So now that you and Aiden are both back in town, we need to get back to work. It’s time to get the glasses functional. I’ve set us a deadline.”

“A deadline?”

“The deadline is the end of next week.”

“What?”

“To get the glasses working.”

“A deadline? I don’t think it works like that, Kase-face. It’s a process, Aiden hasn’t done this before…”

“Yes, but believe me, having a deadline is helpful.”

“What’s going to happen if we miss the deadline?”

“The manager will be very angry,” she says, a threatening look in her eye.

“Oh. Shit. I guess - we better get back to the Ghost Office tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that would be wise.”

“I’ll text Aiden. And Destinee, let her know she doesn’t have to worry about my plants.”

“What time is your shift at the shop tomorrow?”

“Early, I think it’s an 8-1?”

“Perfect. That gives us enough time to visit Aiden before his workday is over.”

“Why are we doing that?”

“I have a new angle, I think. To get some information on William.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We’re going to need Aiden to crack open the archives again.”

~~~~

Seeing Aiden in his work clothes after what happened yesterday is… difficult. He’s in a white dress shirt and dark blue pants that fit him infuriatingly well. It feels like a travesty that I can’t tear everything off of him right now, but apparently it’s like a “fireable offense” to do that in his office, or whatever.

I was a little anxious when I got to City Hall. It’s only been one day of this new thing we’re doing, and that one day felt like a dream, almost like I imagined it. The idea that he might have regrets has definitely occurred to me. But he greets me with a smile and leads me to his office. Kisses me up against his closed door until my knees are weak, and laughs when I suggest we take it to his desk.

“What are we looking for, exactly?” He unlocks the archives and leads the way down into the basement area.

“I’m not sure, hang on. Kasey!”

It takes her a moment, but she appears by the bottom of the stairs, blinking in the low light.

“Ah, great.” She crosses over to us. “Hi, Aiden.”

“She says hi.”

“Hi, yourself.”

“Tell him I knew you two would end up getting down and dirty.”

“I will bury you,” I hiss at her.

“I’m already buried,” she says primly.

“What did she say?” Aiden asks.

“Nothing.” I shoot her a warning glare. “What are we looking for, Kasey?”

“Anything on Joseph Starr or Richard Newman.”

I repeat the request to Aiden, who sets his laptop on one of the cabinets and powers it up.

“Newman and Starr? The head honchos at the timber company?” he asks, typing in his password. “Is that going to help us? William was basically a grunt. Did he ever even meet these guys?”

“Where’s the copy of the letter about the incident report?” Kasey asks. I pull it out of my bag and unfold it. She points to one of the lines there.

Mr. Newman himself has asked me to express to you that disturbances resulting from this unfortunate incident could be quelled if the report of the death was altered to [Illegible]... more forgiving, and the old version destroyed.

“Richard Newman felt the need to personally interfere with the facts surrounding William’s death,” Kasey says, as I repeat everything to Aiden. “The guy who wrote this letter makes it sound like William’s death would cause a blow to the company, if it went public. We all assumed that meant like, if the authorities or a newspaper got a hold of the details, right? But that doesn’t match the time period, frankly.”

“What do you mean?” Aiden asks.

“I mean that companies could get away with everything back then. It was the Labor Movement that got child labor banned, and fought for decent wages, hours, and benefits. The first major American union started forming in 1794, but things didn’t really get kicking until the 1830s, and even then… Point is, companies could do whatever, during William’s life. I’m not even sure that his death would be news, much less a company-leveling scandal.”

She waits while I finish telling Aiden everything, and he presses a thoughtful finger to his lip.

“So…” His brow furrows. “If they didn’t need to hide it from the public, or from the authorities… either William died doing something incredibly scandalous, or… they were hiding what happened from someone else?”

“Exactly,” Kasey answers. “We need to figure out why Richard Newman went out of his way to cover this up.”

“Smart,” Aiden says, turning to his laptop. He types Richard Newman into a clunky-looking search system, then scribbles a few numbers onto a post-it pad, then does the same with Joseph Starr. Pulling on a pair of gloves, he leads us deeper into the archives. I watch him carefully open a few drawers, withdrawing different sleeves of archival paper. He hands off a few to me, and we bring our bounty to the low table in the back, spread them all out beneath the special dim lights.

“Alright, Newman and Starr,” Aiden says, opening up the first sleeve. “Tell us your secrets.”