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"Fine, fine," he said, looking down momentarily. "I didn't want to freak you out more than you already are, but there's no way to sugarcoat this."
He looked up, locking eyes with me again. "I'm a ghost, Logan."
I nearly choked on my own spit. "A ghost? Seriously?"
"Yes, as in, formerly alive and now haunting your apartment. Except I promise I'm more Casper than Poltergeist." His smile turned soft, almost reassuring.
My mind raced to process the information, each thought tripping over the other in a frantic tangle. A ghost? A ghost who looks like a model, talks like a sitcom character, and smells—wait, was that where the lavender scent was coming from?
"So, you're saying you're haunting me?" My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Is this some kind of weird ghostly booty call?"
He burst into laughter, the sound oddly comforting in the echoey bathroom. "No, Logan, it's not a booty call. Though, for the record, if ghosts could adequately appreciate booties, you'd be at the top of my call list."
I chuckled. He had a charming sense of humor despite the bizarre revelation. "Alright, Casper, why are you here? I don't remember running over any pedestrians recently."
"My reasons are...complicated. Let's just say you were in the right place at the right time, or maybe the wrong time, depending on how you look at it." His eyes seemed to dim slightly, clouded by memories he couldn't share.
I stared at him, or rather, his reflection, and despite the situation's absurd qualities, I felt a weird connection. A ghost. In my bathroom mirror. Who was easy on the eyes and apparently had a sense of humor.
His smile turned from mischievous to surprisingly tender. "You won't regret me showing up. And hey, maybe having a ghost on your side might bring you some good luck for a change."
I snorted. "Good luck? With my dating history? You've got your work cut out for you, buddy."
He pretended to crack his knuckles. "Consider it a challenge I'm willing to accept."
His laughter filled the room again, echoing around me like some ghostly melody. Despite the surrealistic nature of discussing my love life with a ghost, it didn’t feel wrong. It was oddly comfortable.
A worrying thought crept in, dampening my newfound enthusiasm. "Wait, can other people see you? I mean, imagine bringing a date home and then—surprise! Ghost in the mirror."
Ben chuckled. "Don't worry. I have a selective visibility feature. I promise not to embarrass you in front of your future Mr. Rights—or Mr. Right Nows."
"Well, that's a relief. The last thing my love life needs is spectral interference."
Ben gestured as if placing a hand over his heart. "Scout's honor. I won't mess up your game."
"So, what now? Do we shake on it?" I chuckled, realizing the absurdity of trying to shake hands with a reflection.
"How about a pinky swear? Ghosts are very serious about those, you know."
"A pinky swear it is, then." I extended my pinky toward the mirror. To my astonishment, his reflection did the same, and for a split second, it felt as if our fingers actually touched through the glass. A strange warmth tingled at my fingertip, and I quickly pulled my hand back.
The air in the room seemed to shift, like some cosmic confirmation that we'd sealed our peculiar deal. Ben's eyes sparkled with anticipation and something I couldn't quite put my finger on—maybe hope?
"So, it's settled then," he said. “Logan and Ben, against the odds and defying all logic. What could possibly go wrong?"
Ben
God, I loved mirrors. I circled around the frame, even went upside down for a second. Seriously, if you can't have fun with your haunting, what's the point?
Logan was one of those quiet, thoughtful types—you could see it in the way his eyes squinted when he was deep in thought or how his fingers nervously brushed over the bathroom counter as he tried to make sense of my sudden appearance.
His short, dark hair was still messy from sleep, and his lean build suggested a guy who took care of himself but wasn't obsessed with the gym. Yeah, the man had a vibe, sort of melancholy wrapped in a shell of daily routine.
“So, Ben, why don’t you tell me a little more about you?” Logan asked.
"Ah, introductions! I'm Benjamin Foster, but you can call me Ben. Ben the Friendly Ghost. No relation to Casper, mind you. He's way too vanilla for my tastes."
Grinning, I launched into my annual Halloween spiel. "Every year, I pick someone in this building to haunt. It's a lovely tradition. I get to meet new people, and they get to hear some fantastic tales. You should see the reactions!"
