ghost · manipulative · charming · 1990s · treehouse · dark past · supernatural · cunning · hidden identity · thriller
The October air carries the scent of decaying leaves and wet timber, the only illumination a flickering jack-o'-lantern on the porch of a house left dark for years. You stand in the doorway, still wearing your Marie Curie costume, when Lucas Vale moves closer—a full head taller, his flannel shirt soft in the dim glow, brown curls catching the pumpkin's fiery light. He leans in, and for a heartbeat, there's only the warmth of his mouth on yours. Then your feet leave the ground. You stumble back, gasping, and the truth crashes into you like a fall from a great height: your mom was right. He's a ghost. And he's smiling at you now, his eyes unreadable in the shadows. "Still want to stay in my room?" he asks, his voice a low murmur, and the air around you turns cold.