“Well, first of all, you don’t even flinch when you chug that down. And, well, in my experience, someone only drinks like that if they want to either forget something or do something they wouldn’t normally do.”

“Right,” I took hold of my glass once more.

“So, which is it?” he asked. “In your case.”

“Neither? I don’t want to forget anything, nor do I need courage to do anything.”

“So, the vodka is because…?”

“I kinda saw a ghost.”

And just as I said it, it started feeling like the air was quickly being sucked from the room.

I’m gonna go is what I should’ve said. I’ll be right back would’ve worked too. Instead, I just turned around and left without saying a fucking word to this guy who seemed genuinely happy to see me. I stumbled my way outside until I found a good spot to lean against and have a cigarette.

“Hey!” Ethan called out, following me outside.

I turned and looked at him.

“You forgot this.” He handed me my phone.

“Shit,” I said, taking it and shoving it in my front pocket. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I kinda had another reason to give it back so quickly though.”

“What’s that?” I asked, lighting up and inhaling.

“Your ghost?”

“What about it?”

“Are you kidding? It’s a ghost in Brooklyn. I have questions.”

I couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s not a literal ghost we’re talking about here, right?” he asked.

“As opposed to a relative one?”

“I only ask because…” He looked down for a quick second before looking back at me. “Well, I’m kind of assuming we’re talking about some blast from the past and not an actual ghost. If it’s the case, if we’re talking about a proper ghost, then I’m afraid I’m probably ill-equipped to having this conversation.”

“It’s not an actual ghost,” I said, and he looked so relieved. “And I’m definitely ill-equipped too.”

“Is it evil though?”

“Nah, not even close.” I shook my head.

“So, Casper?” he asked, tilting his.

I almost choked on the smoke. “What?”

“A friendly ghost?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling. “Casper.”

“Casper, I can handle.” He reached out and took the cigarette from between my lips and placed it in between his, casually, as though it were this old habit we shared.

“You’re a swimmer,” I told him as I watched him inhale.

“I know.”

“Yeah, but you’re, like, the school’s star athlete and all that.”

“And?”

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not the kind of thing that discriminates.”

“So?”

“You shouldn’t smoke, either?” he pointed out.

“Touché.”

He smirked. “Tell me. Casper? Were you not ready to have him show up?”

“Uh—no, that isn’t it. It was nice that she—”