Once in the library it is complete silence, which is extremely weird for me because I don't tend to stay quiet. But as I sit across from James and watch him do his work, I don't know what to do. I don't want to disturb him or annoy him in any way and I'm scared that if I open my mouth he'll get angry and ask me to leave. Now that I know he can hear me I don't really want to bother him. If he were like everyone else I would be rambling, per usual.

I'm not sure why he asked me to join him, it's not like we are friends or like he enjoys my company. Maybe he just felt sorry for me and said that so I wouldn't be all alone. It doesn't make much difference though because we are the only souls in the library, or at least this part of the room. James is quiet and focused so I might as well be on my own.

I watch him carefully but when he looks up-which doesn't happen that often-I look away, pretending I've been engaged watching out of of the window the whole time. He probably notices I'm just pretending anyways but if he does, he says nothing and I'm glad for that.

James hasn't told me to keep asking my questions or even mentioned to keep helping me out so I'm assuming what we talked in front of the church is all what we'll ever discuss about the topic. I have certainly learnt my lesson with him and I won't just go rambling or pushing his buttons just to get my answers. He's had enough of ghosts and I don't want to be another bad experience in his life. If possible I'd like him to look back at his life in the future and say: yeah, all my experiences with ghost were bad... except for one. I once met a nice ghost.

If I can do that I think I could say I actually accomplished something important during my life... or no-life. Whatever the proper term is.

He works diligently on his assignments, editing his photographs on his computer. I see him working with an ease that is foreign to me but it seems second nature to him. His fingers move so fast and he clicks here and there and uses a pad and I get a bit dizzy. I'm not on friendly terms with technology. It changes so fast and I can't keep up with it, plus, it's not like I get a chance to try it for myself; I can just see how others use it.

Story of my life, only seeing how others live whilst lamely staying behind.

"You're oddly quiet," comments James, his eyes not parting from the screen. "I thought you couldn't shut up. Are you really feeling well?"

"I'm being cautious," I reply, narrowing my eyes as if like that I could actually figure this guy out and find out exactly what he is planning.

"Cautious?" he echoes, this time his eyes dart briefly to meet mine. "Why?"

"'Cos I'm not sure how to proceed with you," I honestly answer. "I don't wanna make you angry again or bring up a subject that might make you uncomfortable. Plus, I don't want to annoy you anymore. I know my memory sucks big time and I forget many important things but I haven't forgotten how much you hated my constant babbling."

His eyes show a bit of embarrassment and remorse so he looks away, what makes me frown. It's not like he did something wrong, it was me the one annoying him. Fine, he made me know if the cruelest way but it's because I drove him to the edge. I accepted that already. It was my fault.

"I learn from my mistakes. I'm clever like that," I say in a lighter tone so he doesn't feel bad anymore. I even wink and give him the peace sign in my best attempt to look nonchalant.

"So you won't say anything unless I ask you to?" he tries and I think about it for a few seconds.

"That seems the safest and wisest option and although you don't know how to get rid of me, I can't underestimate your ability to find out or bring a priest," I explain and I see him pressing his lips in a tight line to keep himself from laughing. I can see the amusement in his eyes that look like a sky in a summer day... before the clouds gather and it rains again. "If you don't feel like talking, however, you can submit your questions on a sheet of paper and I'll answer them. Preferably multiple choice."

This time he can't hold it anymore, he laughs out loud and the corners of my lips curl up in a small smile at the sight. He looks quite nice when he's laughing, so much more approachable and kind. I like how he shuts his eyes so tightly these become two fine lines and how he covers his mouth with his hand, almost as if like that he could trap the chuckles.

"Do you always say whatever is in your mind?" he asks next and it feels weird that I'm the one being questioned.

"I wasn't always like this but if I had some filter I think I lost it when I died. I don't think social filters are that lasting, to be honest. I got used to say whatever is in my mind. Talking out loud or in my head is the same to me," I explain, shrugging to add the feeling of normalcy.

"You also mentioned your memory sucks. How so?" he asks next, this time he puts his laptop aside and I can notice how his full attention is on me.

I feel weird, a bit paranoid and unease. I look away and this time it's not to check no one is watching, but looking for a way out. To my mind come flashes of when people cornered me, when they approached me with intent looks but bad intentions at heart.

I bet that if I were alive, I would start hyperventilating right now, under James' scrutiny.

I gulp before answering. "There are many things I don't remember. It's like the are blank spaces in my head, lapses that I feel should be there but I can't recall. From when I was alive and since I became what I am." My voice shows I'm nervous, it trembles and it is an octave higher.

I shut my eyes closed and count to three in my mind, trying to calm down. James won't do anything to me, I tell myself. He's not one of those kids who bullied me. He didn't bring me here to torture me... did he?

"Have you always been like that or is it since you became a ghost?" he asks next and I open my eyes again. His expression is curious but also worried, it seems he senses there's something off.

"Not that I know of. I'm not sure if it's because I don't remember or because I just stop existing or something. What do you know about that?" I ask this time, trying to deviate the attention from me.

"Hmm, not so much. When I used to talk to ghosts on more friendly terms I was really young so I didn't ask things like those. Then I just avoided them or just did what they asked so they would leave me alone," he explains and I nod. "But it seems to me they remembered quite well, although they always seem fixated with something."

"I don't even remember how I died," I blurt out and this time he frowns.

"You don't?" he repeats and I shake my head. "That is peculiar. Not all ghosts share their stories with me, but most of them told me how they died. It's what they say the moment they tell you they are ghosts. Especially those who died in unfair circumstances," he muses and I try hard to think back and how I died. "How long ago did you die?"

"Hm, I dunno," I reply again and his frown depends. "Told yah, my memory sucks. I think a long ago, but then maybe it was a month ago and the monotony of this new life has made me feel I've been like this for eons. However my mum is still alive and living in the same house so I guess it hasn't been that long."

"That is peculiar once again. You don't feel the track of time?"

"More like I don't care about that. I just... keep going. I keep coming here and going back home. I repeat, repeat and repeat. I pretend I'm alive and all that, I guess to cope so I don't feel so depressed and start bawling and making people shit themselves at night, you know?" he chuckles again and I bite my lower lip in my own attempt not to smile so wide for making him laugh.

"Well, I don't think you died too long ago, either. You don't look that much out of place, just like someone who hasn't realised it's winter," he adds and I can sense his lighter tone in an attempt of humour.

"Perks of being dead: you don't feel the cold!" I cheer, throwing my arms in the air and he laughs. "Rain doesn't bother me either or any weather. That's the biggest perk, I must admit it."

"Sounds quite good, especially here in England where it rains all the bloody time," he agrees and the smile doesn't leave his lips.

He leans a bit closer, resting his elbow on the table between us and then cupping his cheek. He has taken off his beanie so his dreads hang loosely around his face and as I look at him I start to think that dreadlocks actually suit him and he looks really handsome in a very relaxed way.

"I like your hair," I blurt out again and my words surprise him, I can notice that. He blinks quickly at me and pulls back just a little bit, cheeks blushes as his eyes focus on something else. "It's wicked. At first I didn't know what to think when I saw it but now I think I like it."

"Th-thanks," he says but he can't meet my eyes.

"How do you keep them? Is it hard? Do you wash them? How often? Is it uncomfortable? Does it hurt to get them? Do you think I'd look good with dreads?" I practically bomb him with questions, all in a rapid succession that make him blink quickly in surprise once again, but that takes away the embarrassment of my compliment.

"It's not that hard to keep them once you get them. Once in a while you need to do something 'cos your hair grows, right? But it's quite comfortable. And yes, I do wash my hair constantly but with a special kind of shampoo. It doesn't have to have so many chemicals." He stops for a second, to recall what else I asked him, I assume. "It hurts a bit when you're getting them done 'cos they pull your hair but totally bearable and I don't know how you'd look. I do think you look good with your curly hair, though" he says and now I am the one to get embarrassed after that small compliment. "Can you even get dreadlocks, by the way? Aren't you stuck the way you died?"

"True that. I tried to put my hair in a ponytail but the elastic band fell off the moment I looked away and my hair was back to how it is. I can't have anything... real? on me. It just falls off and I'm back on this clothes and style," I explain and he nods, understanding.

"At least you died in nice clothes and looking good. It would've been sad if you died in your pyjamas. Can you imagine that?" he says and I try to think of my usual PJ. Yes, that would've been humiliating and sad. "I sleep in my pants. I can't imagine staying in that until I cross over. I would hurry the hell up to finish my business here."

"Is that what ghosts do? We have to cross over? How do we do that?" I ask him, seeing a chance there to know a bit more.

"Yeah, most do that. Some just stay forever. It's a choice, basically. Not everyone who dies become a ghost, I've noticed, but every ghost has free will to choose once that opportunity presents itself," he explains next and I nod. I think it's good not everyone becomes a ghost, otherwise it would be quite crowded.

"Why do some become ghosts? Is it a punishment or something? Did I do something wrong when I was alive to be stuck like this now?" My voice has an edge and he sense it because the smile disappears and his eyes look at me carefully.

"I don't think it's that. I assume it's because there's something else they have to do. Cliché unfinished business? Pretty much that. Once they are at ease they can cross over. I haven't ever seen what they do at that time, but I have seen ghosts just disappearing and saying goodbye. They all seem to react to something, so I assume they see something."

"A door like in Being Human?" I question and he looks at me with curious eyes, surprised that I can make that reference. "What? Can't a ghost watch telly?"

He laughs again, shaking his head a tad bit. "Maybe. I don't know. Maybe they just see the light or the Grim Reaper. I really don't know and I haven't asked."

"I'll tell you what it looks like when I see it so you can go to all those writers and tell them what really happens. Or add it in your graphic novel," I continue, keeping the light tone and he chuckles softly. "If I ever see it," I add, this time in a more depressing tone.

"I guess if you really wanna cross over you'll see it," he says with a slight shrug. "Every ghost sees it at some point. Whether you decide to cross over or not, that is your choice, but you'll see it."

"What if it never shows?" I question, my voice low and uncertain. "What if I'm stuck here forever?"

His eyes show so much pity before he opens his mouth, and to worse my sorrow, his answer doesn't help. "I don't know then, Paige. I don't know."

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Did you like that? All that interaction? Aren't these two cute? >.< Anyhow, most suggested (1) Paimes, (2) Jaige and (3) PJ as ship name. Which one do we stick with? VOTE!

Dedication to @WriterOnLoose110 I'm glad you're enjoying this book (: I love writing paranormal romance.

Bel, xx

Next Update (NU): Thursday