"How did she die?" the woman asked.

He startled, tension knotted in his shoulders. Her voice emerged from the night, so quiet it blended with the low roar of the surf. Josh scrubbed a hand over his face. He felt the unkempt growth on his cheeks, trying to remember the last time he shaved, or showered. Or ate a full meal. When was the last time he properly took care of himself?

"Sorry, that was impolite," she said, pulling him from his reverie. He waited too long to answer.

"No, no it's fine, I just, she--we were in a car accident. Head on collision. Smashed into a guardrail. I broke a few bones but she...." He swallowed down the sour beer-tinged bile trying to creep up his throat. "I passed out. She was awake for a while, alone, before she succumbed."

Awake, reaching for him. The dozens and dozens of times he told this story, this was the detail he always omitted. Ashamed of something he had no control of, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help sharing it now either, with a stranger, an act that possessed the same cleansing effect as a priest's confessional. He closed his eyes, pinching the tender skin between his brows. He replayed that night over and over with perfect recall. Not the accident itself, but waking up to find her next to him, the moment that haunted him still.

"Ah, then you aren't sad. You're guilty you survived," she said. She sounded much closer than before. Josh opened his eyes to find her next to him. She was still more shadow than person, her pale dress hovering beside him. "Did you want to survive, Josh?"

This close, she felt wrong. There was an absence of awareness, there was no electrostatic sense of another living body close enough to touch. His buzz began to die, as if ice water doused his back.

He couldn't stop swallowing, that pressure squeezing his chest again, different now. Like holding your breath in the presence of danger.

"Did you?"

What kind of question was that? Of course he did. Didn't he? "Yes." The whisper didn't disguise the uptick of uncertainty that dragged the single word into a long pause.

"You don't sound too sure of that, Josh," she said. She punctuated the statement with a laugh, a husky chuckle that settled the prickle of unease. The woman stretched, her pale shift straining against her body. This close, he could see the smudges covering the dress. There was a dark stain on her side facing away from the fire. Was it a spilled drink? Had she wandered down from a beach party? Maybe she was drunk, too, and lost her way on a stroll. She shifted, tilting her head so her dark hair fell away, revealing that smile that sent his mind stuttering.

"Want to go for a swim?"

Josh frowned. The ocean was frigid this time of year. Was she nuts? He leaned forward, touching her arm. It was a meaningless gesture, meant to casually brush off the invitation. The hair rose all over his body. He expected chill skin or the fleeting warmth of the fire. He touched her, he could see his fingers touching her, but felt...nothing. Nothing at all, not even the pressure of another surface against his skin.

Josh jerked away, his mind unable to properly process the missing sensory detail. She returned the frown, confused by his reaction.

"What's wrong with you?" There was faint accusation in her voice. Josh felt the flush of embarrassment. He was still drunk, and exhausted. It wasn't far-fetched to believe his mind was muddled, as opposed to the other possibility.

"I'm sorry, it's late. I should have gone to bed a while ago," he hesitated, realizing how that sounded. "Not that I want you to leave--"

"Relax, I get it. Know what could wake you up? A nice little swim," she coaxed. She shifted to her feet, spinning away from him. The dark stain was gone, another trick of the mind. He started to wonder if his manic pixie girl visitor was one long fever dream. "Come on, live a little. Besides, you're out of chocolate."

What was that supposed to mean? She was right. The package was empty. Beth would be pissed. She warned him to save her a bar for breakfast. Instead he'd burned it for a beautiful stranger, an offering in the long night.

"Coming?" She was already dancing through the surf, laughing as the waves flushed around her ankles.

Following her would be madness. Or thrilling. Watching her flit in and out of the water was hypnotic, a sight that made his body hum with anticipation. Buzzed, exhausted, this was still the most he'd felt in months, as if he'd spent the better part of a year sleepwalking through life, or slowly drowning. He rolled to his knees, feeling the grit dig into his skin as he wrestled his sweater off, wanting something warm and dry to come back to. His beautiful stranger was right in one respect. Guilt had a stranglehold on him, but he didn't want to die, not really. He yanked the sweater over his head, spurred by the strange woman's enticing laugh.

Josh hustled to the surf and yelped at the first touch of the water to his toes. Icy as he suspected, but she was already ahead of him, up to her waist, the dress billowing out in the water around her. He took a breath and marched forward, ignoring the immediate and painful shrinkage as he rushed after her headlong.

He didn't even know her name. That should have worried him. Swimming in the ocean at two in the morning, drunk, with no moon, should have worried him. This area was secluded during swim season, barred for its notorious undertow. He shouldn't be here.

She bobbed before him in the waves, floating on her back, a smile on her face. Her water-logged dress undulated; her appearance was ethereal, more dreamlike than ever. She held out a hand to him, beckoning with a siren's smirk and a crook of her finger. In the water she looked pale, bleached out. That trickle of unease threatened to take root once more.

He came up beside her, the water high enough to drench the hair at the back of his neck. He moved to warm his limbs, truly sober now and aware he should haul ass back to the shore.

"I think I'm awake enough now," he said. His teeth started to chatter. The woman smiled. She had to be feeling the cold. Her skin was starting to look blue.

"Did you really want to outlive your girlfriend?"