He grinned wryly. "I can't. Not unless you're hiding a chair from my old room somewhere in the house." Collapsing seemed like an attractive option, though; the shock of feeling her lips, of being kissed , was enough to knock him flat on his back. "I'm pretty sure my mom took all the furniture," he added as an afterthought.
"What?" Sara cocked her head to the side, eyes questioning.
In that moment it seemed as if Sara could have been talking to a normal person athe two of them could have been any other man and woman getting to know each other, feeling each other out, except it was far from typical. There could be no courtship. No real dates.
Her hips still felt firm under his palms, and it was the only thing grounding him, the only thing keeping his brain from shorting out.
"There are... rules, I guess. Things I can and can't do."
"And you can't sit?" Her eyebrows drew together, and one side of her mouth cocked up in amusement.
He smirked and rubbed his thumbs over the rough denim of her shorts. Every nerve in his body fizzled and shouted at the sensation of something new, something different.
"I can't sit on anything that's not original to the house," he corrected. "Even then, if I want to lean against a wall or something, I have to concentrate on it, or I'll fall through."
"Hmmm. Okay. I guess that makes as much sense as anything else does."
"I suppose."
There was little about his life that made sense. A live person being able to hear him, let alone yank the sleeve of his shirt, seemed insane - yet that was exactly what was going on. He inhaled, slow and steady, hoping to get a grip the emotions galloping through his brain .
Her hands drifted down his arms, barely touching, stopping to circle his wrists with her thin hands; her fingers felt as feathery as a butterfly's wings.
"What are the other rules?"
A huff of air burst out of his mouth, something between a laugh and a snort. "Damn if I know. I've been invisible for four decades ayou're here for a few months, and everything's different."
"Good different?" Sara asked, eyes wide as she leaned in closer again, brushing her nose against his.
Oh, God a her breath wafted around him, the comforting scent of cinnamon and mint strong and spicy. The intimacy of being close enough to smell her mouth made his knees weak. Other parts of him were waking, paying attention closely.
"The best kind of different," he answered, voice just above a whisper. The indescribable softness of her lips made him forget about her breath, the rules of being dead, even his own name as she kissed him again, their teeth clanging together for a second as he threw himself into the kiss with a little too much gusto.
Sara's mouth smiled again as he exhaled an embarrassed snigger, all the while both of them refusing to stop touching. Sara's teeth grazed his lower lip, a quiet grunt rumbling in his throat while she nibbled softly. His mind was blown, through and through. He hadn't had all that much experience with women, but he'd never experienced anything quite like Sara aevery move she made was confident and sexy. He felt a little embarrassed in comparison, hoping he didn't fumble like an idiot too much.
She moved her lips to the corner of Patrick's mouth, planting a trail of kisses to his chin. Patrick's mind re-engaged just at that time, wondering what the Hell was going on. He didn't want to think about why Sara was all over him, especially because he loved every second of it, but it was so weird . It was too much to consider, too much to take in . The sheer joy of it demanded he do nothing other than accept the situation on faith alone. He felt as though he should dissect it, think more about the why and the how, but he didn't want to. He just wanted it to last.
Patrick stepped away, cursing himself for not just being able to let it go. "What's going on here?"
"Huh?" Sara released his wrists and shifted her weight impatiently.
"You kissed me."
"Yeah, we've established that."
Patrick laughed and reached for her fingers. "No, I mean, why are you... why are you okay with this? And why does this feel rushed? And why... aren't you freaked out and running away from me?"
Sara's lips pursed and then twitched before she smiled. "I don't know. I... I feel close to you."
"But you don't know anything about me."
"That's not true."
"Tell me one thing you know."
Sara squeezed his hand, and her grin grew wider. "I know a lot. I remember every word you said that one night. I know what Ginny told me."
"You might know the basics."
An emotion Patrick couldn't name passed over her face, her eyebrow raised. "Don't forget I have all your memories. I know you ."
"But what does that even mean? We're not... I don't know. I mean, I'm a ghost, Sara. I'm dead. This is in no way is normal or right, and you're acting like I'm just some guy you like."
"You are some guy I like. You're overthinking this."
"You're not thinking about this enough." He wanted to punch himself in his own head for trying to talk her out of this.
"Look... I'm not... I mean, why can't we just hang out?"
"What does that even mean?"
"It means whatever we want it to mean."
"I just don't understand why you're not scared, like you were when you saw me in the mirror or when you heard me that one time."
"I guess the third time is a charm," Sara joked, but the smile dimmed, and she stared at him with an anxious expression. "Do you even know what a relief this is?"
"What?"
"This. I might be hallucinating all of this a your memories, being able to see and touch you, everything a but what if I'm not?" She moved a step closer, and Patrick nearly startled at how her body heat seemed to plow into him. "If you've been around, you already know I have feelings for you. If this isn't some by-product of my damaged head, this is everything I've been wishing for."
He nodded. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Well, when you put it that way..."
Patrick still wasn't sure he was satisfied with that, but he couldn't refuse her. He wanted this, wanted her to touch him... to love him. She'd said that one time she was half in love with him, and thanks to some screwed up cosmic coincidence, now they could really explore what that meant.
Maybe it wasn't a just by random chance she'd moved to his house, though. What if this was part of why he hadn't gone to Heaven? He'd explored the idea of fate, but he could never really figure out what his fate might hold or why he would matter enough. Even now, his mind raced with a million possibilities, but he couldn't imagine what Sara had to do with anything. It would suck to finally have this chance to touch her and then have her ripped away from him. Heaven was likely really boss, but he wouldn't give up Sara even if it meant getting his parents back and finding paradise.
"Wait."
"Huh?" Patrick's eyes focused on Sara's mouth, but he had no idea what she was saying; he was too caught up in thinking about what fate and Sara might have to do with each other, and he was quickly losing himself in the idea of kissing her again .
"Just... stay right here. I'll be right back."
"Why?"
"I'll be right back," she repeated, quickly shuffling backwards and letting go of his hand.
As soon as the solid heat of her was gone from his grasp, the loss felt painful. He'd been living without her touch aanyone's touch aforever, and now he couldn't stand to be without out for even a second.
Sara grinned, rushing from the office. The second she was gone, Patrick's own smile spread across his face.
Her absence gave him time to think about what he wanted to happen next. The y had a strange relationship a if that was what he could call it. She had as much as told him she wanted to at least give things a shot. At least, he thought that was what she meant.
Now that they'd kissed, there were traditions to be followed, rituals to be observed. He would give that to her... as much as he was able. He knew people still dated, went out... but had other things changed? He wanted to show up at her house and give her flowers, although their current situation sort of prohibited it to a certain extent. She deserved more than that, of course, but he would do his best, given his limitations.
"Sorry I couldn't get dressed up," Patrick said, gesturing to his clothes with a rueful grin when Sara flitted back into the room in a pretty dress. He'd never been particularly conscience of what he wore most days before he died ait was enough that his shirt matched his pants, and most days he wore jeans and a collared shirt from his dad's shop anyway. At least he hadn't been stuck for eternity in greasy jeans and a "Jack's Garage" button-down with his name stitched above the pocket.
"What are you talking about?" Sara gingerly touched the sleeve of his shirt.
"I, uh, I want to take you out. Well, not out, exactly." He glanced down at the floor and then immediately back up at her; the amusement on her face was obvious . "But I want us to have a real date. A first date."
"We are living together already, you know?"
"I suppose. And I have seen you naked." Patrick inwardly cringed; he hadn't meant to say that a it had just popped out, and now he wished he could go back in time just a few seconds and stuff the words back in his mouth.
"What? When was this?" she asked, her voice loud with mock outrage.
There was no point in lying, so Patrick told the truth. "The night after you called me by name for the first time."
"What does that have to do with anything? I say your name, and you think it gives you license to check me out in my birthday suit?" Sara openly chuckled now, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. She had kissed him asurely she had to think about him... that way. He'd done nothing but think of her... naked, touching him... since she'd moved in, even despite his efforts to rein it in.
"It was that one time." Patrick grinned, embarrassed. The memory of that morning came back in a flash. Sara's knee socks and her underwear, the way her pale skin glowed in the light from the window. It was something he would remember forever... however long that would be.
"Wait, what? I've lived here for months, and you've only seen me naked once?"
Patrick chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to stop the humiliation and confusion from showing on his face. Was she upset because he hadn't been spying on her naked all the time or making fun of him for it? "Well, I just... I try to respect your privacy."
Sara's laugh started out as a tinkling giggle, progressing to wheezing guffaws in moments. He watched her quizzically as she held her stomach, rocking on the couch. Patrick's own chuckle burst out of his mouth, spurred on by how hard she was cracking up. She was so pretty in that moment, with cheeks flushed pink, and her o pen-mouthed smile was so bright.
She released a shaky breath as she tried to stop, chest heaving with every exhale. "Are you kidding me? If our roles were reversed, I'd have been ogling your goods every chance I got! Besides," she added, blowing out a slow breath, "you've got nice, broad shoulders aI bet you look great naked." Her hand clamped over her mouth .
Patrick snorted out a sharp laugh. Even though he still didn't know what to think of Sara's sudden acceptance of him, he loved that she was unable to stop herself from saying what was on her mind. Not that Patrick had a ton of experience with girls, but Ginny hadn't always been the most straight-forward person when it came to her feelings. It wasn't that she'd been secretive or shy... she just had always been kind of stoic. He knew from hearing his friends bitch about their girlfriends that it wasn't the most uncommon thing in the world for them to say the opposite of what they meant.
"Not that I, uh, think you should strip down for me," she said quickly.
"Uh, so, our first date?" he reminded her, choosing to ignore her confession... at least outwardly. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, although his mind whirled, struggling with the idea that she was thinking about him that way after all... he wondered if she'd ever imagined them getting it on.
"Oh, um, yeah?" The corner of her mouth tugged up.
"We have limited options, obviously. Sorry about that."
"Where would you have taken me if we had met before you died?" Sara's fingers played with the material at the waist of her dress ashe looked so delicate in it. The cream color of it made her skin velvety.
"Dressed like that? Out to dinner. You look really gorgeous, by the way."
"Oh. Thanks." Her cheeks flushed pinker under her bashful smile. "I, uh, wanted to look nice for you. Nicer than I have. I've been a slob lately."
"If you're referring to your tiny little shorts and shirts, you can keep wearing them. I don't mind, really," he teased. "We'd also go to the drive-in... after dinner."
"Oh my God," she said, slipping her fingers against his. "I've never been to one!"
"You've never been to a drive-in?" he asked. "How can that be?"
"Well, there aren't a lot of them around anymore. I've not heard of one around here."
"That's kind of depressing. There used to be one on the outskirts of town."
It shouldn't have bothered him, but it did. It seemed as though the last forty years had brought lots of changes, although the most important things seem to have stayed the same ahe and Sara were world s apart, but she didn't seem so different than him.
"We could still have a movie night for our first date, though. I can go pick up a DVD or something."
"DVD?"
"Oh, uh, it's a movie that's on a disk... a small, round, shiny, flat piece of plastic. You play it in... you've seen the thin black box on top of the television?" she asked. Patrick nodded. "You play it in that. We can watch a movie on the TV. I can get something you liked. Before you, you know..."
"Kicked the bucket," Patrick finished with a grin.
"Yeah. That. What was that like, by the way?"
"Dying?"
"Uh huh."
"I don't know. It wasn't like anything at all. I was flying down the stairs, and then I was dead. And then I was a ghost." He shrugged.
Sara studied him for a second before smiling softly. "Okay." The rumble of her throat clearly brought Patrick's attention back to her face, pulling him out of remembering that day. "What was even out at that time? The only thing I know about the seventies is Saturday Night Fever , but you don't strike me as a fan of disco."
He was relieved not to have to relive the process of dying with her. It wasn't that he minded talking about it a at least he didn't think he would a it was just that he was trying so hard to be normal. To forget about what he was.
"What's disco?"
"Oh, uh, really horrible dance music from that decade. Donna Summer... the Bee Gees."
"Well, I know who the Bee Gees are a that stupid *I Started a Joke' song, right?" he asked. Sara shrugged, smiling slightly. "If that's what disco is, I'm glad I missed it."
"Huh. Okay, so... wait, you died in 1970?"
"Uh huh. I think one of the last movies I saw was Beneath the Planet of the Apes. It was okay, but I don't want to see it again. By the way, I think it's really boss that you can get any movie you want whenever you want it." He paused, squeezing her hand. "Why don't we see your favorite movie? I mean, it'll probably be new to me unless you've watched it here before."
Sara laughed. "Okay, so What's Eating Gilbert Grape it is. I don't even need to go out to rent it - it's in my stack of DVDs."
Patrick shook his head. "It's so neat that you have access to stuff like that. It was so different for me... sometimes they showed movies on TV, but it usually wasn't anything I was dying to see."
"Well, it's probably made me a little bit impatient. I'm an instant gratification type of girl."