The Love of My Afterlife(59)

“It’s this Tim Burton movie from the eighties. I love it. When the girl I’m seeing invited me to accompany her here tonight, I wanted us to dress as Adam and Barbara from the film. Like I said, niche.”

“The…the girl you’re seeing?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty new, but going well, I think! I…Why did you want to speak to me? I’m intrigued. It’s not every day a mysterious Daisy Buchanan hurries me away to light-related paraphernalia rooms.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry for dragging you in here like a total weirdo. It’s so busy out there, though. You must think this is all very strange.”

He laughs lightly. “You seemed pretty angry back there. I wasn’t about to say no to you. Although I am, you know, curious.” He leans back against the wall. “Why did you want to talk to me?”

Because he is perfect. Perfect and gentle and soulmate-y. I take a deep breath, opening my mouth to explain why I need to speak to him. But then I halt. Despite thinking about it nonstop, I actually have no clue where to begin explaining any of this. How the buggering hell do you start a conversation so big? So earthshaking? I can’t exactly tell him that we’ve already met but he doesn’t remember because we were both dead at the time. But I can’t start off too slowly either, because it’s taken me this long to find him, and I no longer have the time to get to know him a little better first. I just need him to kiss me. As soon as possible. Then later down the line I can explain things at a pace that won’t potentially melt his brain, maybe even go on a first date…

I lift my chin and stare Jonah right in the eye. I look more than “Good Very Good” tonight. I look pretty. Maybe even beautiful. And if Jonah was attracted to me in my nightie and pickle-green socks, freshly dead, then surely, surely he won’t mind if I just, you know, kiss him. And if it’s a good kiss—which, despite my lack of experience, it has to be, because soulmates—he will kiss me back. It will be instinctive, nothing at all like the terrible kiss I had with Jonny Terry when I was eighteen. And…well, I don’t need to think further along than that. I just need him to kiss me back. That’s what Merritt wanted. For him to kiss me. There’s nothing else as important as that.

Okay. I’ve made my decision. There’s no point in waiting any longer. I reach out my hands to take his, just like we did in Evermore. I frown as the spark that ignited my body the first time I touched him is absent. Then I look into his eyes, and my stomach dips as I realise they are not interested and a little horny like they were when we met in the waiting room, but flicking from left to right as if looking for help. I peer down at our hands and find that his are just hanging limply in mine. I drop them.

“Um…I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I thought…I thought we had…and I just wanted to…” I trail off.

Jonah starts to fidget with the collar of his flannel shirt. “You’re very pretty. Incredibly so. But as I said, I’m seeing someone. She’s just out in the ballroom—” He cuts himself off and looks towards the door awkwardly. My heart starts to judder with panic. He can’t go! If he goes then it will all be over!

“No! Stay! Your date will wait, this is important!”

“Excuse me?” His voice is now openly sharp.

Why did I say that? And why is my voice now coming out as a squeak? I sound absolutely batshit.

Jonah’s eyes widen. He looks scared? Shit. No. I don’t want to scare him. I need to start over again. Try a different tack. A gentler, less crazy, less tipsy approach. But he’s now backing away from me.

I need more time with him. He needs to get to know me. But I won’t get more time unless he…

“Just kiss me!” I shout in a panic, leaning forward again. He sidesteps so that my lips hit nothing but air.

Jonah looks around himself in dread, reaching behind him for the door handle, jerking it open and running backwards out into the corridor and down towards the ballroom.

“Jonah, no!” I call out. “You don’t understand! Let me explain!”

I follow him out of the room, stumbling on these stupid shoes. I kick them off and start to run after him. I can’t lose him. Not again. Not after everything. I don’t have time!

I chase him into the ballroom, where the band are now playing some swoony Harry Connick Jr. song, the beautiful guests whirling elegantly about the ballroom floor. Jonah disappears into the crowd. No, no, no. I can’t lose him again! It’s been so hard to find him. This is my only chance!

“Jonah!” I cry out, my voice emerging as a screech. It’s a noise so blood-curdling it makes the band stop playing.

“Not this lass again,” someone mutters beside me. The crowd clears and there’s Jonah, right in the middle of the dance floor. I scurry over to him. The other guests are watching us.

“I…I don’t know what you want, but whatever it is I’m not interested.” He holds up his palms like he’s trying to calm me down.

“You are interested, though,” I say. “Just let me explain…”

“Yeah, maybe another time.” He takes another step backwards.

“There isn’t time for another time!” I throw my arms up in frustration. “You’re never where you’re supposed to be! You didn’t show up at the life drawing and then by the time I got to the Shard—”