The Ghosts

… And then the bookstore was there, rain-streaked windows showing the mottled colors of books. Science Fiction. Thrillers. Cookbooks. History. Politics. A rack of magazines in the back. He shoved open the heavy glass door, wiped his feet on the mat just inside, slicked the hood of his jacket from his head, and swiped a hand across his damp face. He could hear Timothy just behind him, wiping his own feet. He turned just as Timothy unzipped his jacket, revealing a white T-shirt and the pale column of his throat moving up towards that mouth, those cheeks, and those hazel eyes. 

Timothy smiled again. Jasper couldn't help himself; he smiled right back.

Jasper inhaled the scent of books, wet wool, and Timothy's aftershave. Bay Rum. The bookstore was piping out some Emeli Sandé, her bluesy voice mingling with the quiet conversations, the sound of pages ruffling, and Timothy's breathing. 

Something bumped Jasper's ankles. Startled, he jerked, looked down, and then laughed. One of the store cats, a sprightly tabby, was rubbing up against his jeans, leaving swaths of fur on the wet black cloth of his jeans.

Timothy crouched down and held out his fingers for the cat to sniff. 

"Hey kitty, what’s your name? Hmm?" He scratched under the cat's chin, and behind its ears, smiling the whole time. Jasper sighed. Yeah, Timothy was probably too young for him but damn, he was cute.

Timothy stood, slapping his hands against each other to clear the fur from his fingers. "So, what your favorite section?"

"I like pretty much everything," Jasper replied. "But I'm looking for some science fiction today."

Timothy gave a slight bow and gestured extravagantly with his right hand, motioning Jasper towards the steps up to the mezzanine, where black block letters on an orange wall clearly spelled out Science Fiction and Fantasy.

Jasper felt a little warm inside. It was nice to have any young man pay attention to him that way. He’d thought things were going well with Steve, the man he'd met in the bar. Steve was a big burly bear, like Jasper was. His usual type. They’d been having a good time… until the ghosts intruded. 

Then it was Steve who had ghosted him.

Oh well, maybe a slender young otter like Timothy was just what the doctor ordered.

As he topped the short flight of stairs, Jasper felt the change before he saw anything. There was a slice of cold in the corner where two bookcases met. He turned, sniffing at the air. Sure enough, there was that scent he'd never been able to quite define or describe properly. It wasn't quite the scent of ozone, or the smell of ice. But it was some strange combination of ozone, ice, and dust. At least, that was the best way Jasper had found to describe it when he had to.

He felt Timothy's fingers on his jacket. “Are you okay?"

Well shit, that was just great, he was going to have to explain ghosts before he’d even gone on a first date with the guy.