Read Online Experiment in Terror 04 Lying Season by Karina Halle - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Karina Halle
Tags: thriller, Romance, Horror, Paranormal, Mystery, paranormal romance, supernatural, Young Adult, Ghosts, Speculative Fiction, spirits, Occult, haunted, evil, haunted house, scary, ghost hunters, creepy, hauntings, sexual tension
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it couldn’t have been a happy one.
“ Honestly,” she said to me in a confiding tone, “I just don’t want to listen to Dex play his Crooked Eagles album for the millionth time this week. I couldn’t give a shit about Tom Jones.”
“ Them Crooked Vultures,” he said, exasperated. He put his arm around her and my breath was lost once more. “And it’s John Paul Jones. Not Tom Jones.”
OK. So the cutesy couple bickering pained me and the fact that, right in front of me, just two feet away, he had his arm around her and was staring at her with a, well, not disgusted look on his face, that absolutely hurt. I mean, hurt like a hot, poison-tinged knife was going through my stomach. But I was going to get through this. I had to. Right? RIGHT?!
I looked away. I had to or else I would have kept staring at them, mouth open, looking lovelorn and stupid. I looked down at the carpet.
“ Nice carpet,” I remarked. Like an idiot.
There was silence for a moment.
“ Perry’s very observant,” Dex finally said to Jenn and out of the corner of my eye I could see him kiss her on her skinny cheekbone. I wished the carpet would swallow me whole.
CHAPTER SIX
Once we were in Jenn’s car, things got a little easier. Mainly because I was sitting in the back seat of her extremely clean Mini Cooper and was able to stare out at the grainy scenes of downtown Seattle that whipped past my window. A foreign city was as good of a distraction as any.
I also understood what Dex meant by whether I liked good music or bad music. I didn’t know who the hell we were listening to, but I knew that Jenn knew all the words to this auto-tuned female pop star who “sang” about washing her teeth with whisky or something. If it was grating to my ears, I could only imagine how bad it was to Dex, the man who actually composed music and could sing.
After Jenn nearly side-swiped a few parked cars (I noted that Dex kept his eyes closed for most of the drive), we arrived at a cute-looking café in the cobblestoned district of Pioneer Square.
Jenn parked the car beside a nearby meter while tourists outfitted in GORE-TEX jackets shared the sodden brick sidewalks with local riffraff and homeless folks. I waited for Dex to get out of the car before I could climb out between the back two front seats. He grabbed hold of my hand and steadied me until I was on the sidewalk, and gave it a warm, unnecessary squeeze. I quickly yanked my hand out of his. His eyes widened momentarily at my reaction, like a brown-eyed owl.
Not cool, Dex , I thought, but put on my best face as we turned and entered the warm café.
The normal tinges of apprehension swarmed through me as I scanned the unfamiliar restaurant looking for people who probably knew a lot more about me than I knew about them. I hate that feeling but it comes with the territory of being on the internet.
“ There are the fuckers,” Dex said, pointing at a table in the corner beneath vintage travel posters. I followed, hiding myself behind Jenn (even though that was like trying to hide an apple behind a carrot) until we stopped in front of his friends.
“ Well, look who it is,” a lanky African-American dude in a purple polo shirt and wire-rimmed glasses announced and got out of his chair. He gave Dex a quick hug. “Where you keeping yourself, Ghost Boy?”
The guy looked at Jenn and gave her nothing more than a polite nod. Then he moved his head over to look at me and raised his eyebrows. I returned the action.
“ I’ve been moving,” Dex said. He patted the guy on the back and pointed at me. “Dean, this is Perry.”
Dex looked past Dean at the other two people at the table, a ponytailed man-boy who reminded me of too many people I went to high school with, who was wearing a tee shirt that said “Ironic Statement”, and a woman who I recognized as the other Wine Babe, Rebecca Sims.
“ And this is Seb and Rebecca,” he continued. “People, this is the infamous Perry
“ Honestly,” she said to me in a confiding tone, “I just don’t want to listen to Dex play his Crooked Eagles album for the millionth time this week. I couldn’t give a shit about Tom Jones.”
“ Them Crooked Vultures,” he said, exasperated. He put his arm around her and my breath was lost once more. “And it’s John Paul Jones. Not Tom Jones.”
OK. So the cutesy couple bickering pained me and the fact that, right in front of me, just two feet away, he had his arm around her and was staring at her with a, well, not disgusted look on his face, that absolutely hurt. I mean, hurt like a hot, poison-tinged knife was going through my stomach. But I was going to get through this. I had to. Right? RIGHT?!
I looked away. I had to or else I would have kept staring at them, mouth open, looking lovelorn and stupid. I looked down at the carpet.
“ Nice carpet,” I remarked. Like an idiot.
There was silence for a moment.
“ Perry’s very observant,” Dex finally said to Jenn and out of the corner of my eye I could see him kiss her on her skinny cheekbone. I wished the carpet would swallow me whole.
CHAPTER SIX
Once we were in Jenn’s car, things got a little easier. Mainly because I was sitting in the back seat of her extremely clean Mini Cooper and was able to stare out at the grainy scenes of downtown Seattle that whipped past my window. A foreign city was as good of a distraction as any.
I also understood what Dex meant by whether I liked good music or bad music. I didn’t know who the hell we were listening to, but I knew that Jenn knew all the words to this auto-tuned female pop star who “sang” about washing her teeth with whisky or something. If it was grating to my ears, I could only imagine how bad it was to Dex, the man who actually composed music and could sing.
After Jenn nearly side-swiped a few parked cars (I noted that Dex kept his eyes closed for most of the drive), we arrived at a cute-looking café in the cobblestoned district of Pioneer Square.
Jenn parked the car beside a nearby meter while tourists outfitted in GORE-TEX jackets shared the sodden brick sidewalks with local riffraff and homeless folks. I waited for Dex to get out of the car before I could climb out between the back two front seats. He grabbed hold of my hand and steadied me until I was on the sidewalk, and gave it a warm, unnecessary squeeze. I quickly yanked my hand out of his. His eyes widened momentarily at my reaction, like a brown-eyed owl.
Not cool, Dex , I thought, but put on my best face as we turned and entered the warm café.
The normal tinges of apprehension swarmed through me as I scanned the unfamiliar restaurant looking for people who probably knew a lot more about me than I knew about them. I hate that feeling but it comes with the territory of being on the internet.
“ There are the fuckers,” Dex said, pointing at a table in the corner beneath vintage travel posters. I followed, hiding myself behind Jenn (even though that was like trying to hide an apple behind a carrot) until we stopped in front of his friends.
“ Well, look who it is,” a lanky African-American dude in a purple polo shirt and wire-rimmed glasses announced and got out of his chair. He gave Dex a quick hug. “Where you keeping yourself, Ghost Boy?”
The guy looked at Jenn and gave her nothing more than a polite nod. Then he moved his head over to look at me and raised his eyebrows. I returned the action.
“ I’ve been moving,” Dex said. He patted the guy on the back and pointed at me. “Dean, this is Perry.”
Dex looked past Dean at the other two people at the table, a ponytailed man-boy who reminded me of too many people I went to high school with, who was wearing a tee shirt that said “Ironic Statement”, and a woman who I recognized as the other Wine Babe, Rebecca Sims.
“ And this is Seb and Rebecca,” he continued. “People, this is the infamous Perry
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