Something I Don't Know

13: eight drinks is probably...probably too many drinks

"Does this look stupid?"

Behind me, as I was kinda of expecting him to, Levi materializes, leaned against the doorjamb. "You, or the hair?"

I roll my eyes grandly. "The hair," I tell him, running a few fingers through it. I've parted it on the side so that the majority of it tumbles towards my left ear, exposing my forehead. Normally I just kind of let it do what it wants. It's not messy, per se, but you can probably tell I don't spend a lot of time on it.

But you know, I'm wearing a suit. I kind of feel like I have to go all the way.

"I'm worried I look a bit too much like a discount K-pop star."

"A what?"

Another roll of my eyes. "Nothing."

"It looks fine, lad," says Levi after another moment. His eyes catch mine in the mirror, something weird and questionable in them, and I'm about to ask just what it is that's got him so curious when he answers my question for me. "Who are you getting so dapper for, anyway? If not this Sophia girl?"

By now, I have corrected him enough times that I'm positive he's just mispronouncing her name to irk me. I don't know why it irks me-it's not like it's my name-but it just does.

I stare at myself in the mirror again, giving myself one last chance to ruffle my hair and start from square one, or add a tie to go with the simple white dress shirt and navy blue jacket I have on, or scratch going to this stupid "grand re-opening" at all and just go take a nap.

In the end, I do neither of those things. When I turn around, Levi is still blocking the doorway.

It takes another second for me to remember that he's a ghost and he's not exactly blocking anything, and then I walk through him and out into the hall. He seems offended.

"Really?"

"What?"

He looks at me with such an exaggerated expression of hurt that I'm positive ninety-five percent of it is feigned. Then he just says, again, "Who's the lucky lady?"

"It could be a dude," I say, narrowing my eyes at him. "You never know."

"Oh," Levi says, his eyebrows working. "Well, is it?"

"No. I was taking an educational liberty." I pause. "Did you actually think I was gay?"

"You said yourself that you never know."

"Oh, whatever."

"So, her name?" Levi prods, and rather than answering him I merely ignore him and head down the staircase. I've nearly made it to Jamie's room when he appears in front of me again, and I jump back, pressing a hand to my chest.

"Oh, by hell, Levi-"

He clasps his hands behind his back, leaning forward. "Her name?"

"Midge," I spit, "not that it matters to you."

"And will I ever meet this 'Midge?'"

I lift a hand to knock on Jamie's door. I lent him one of my smaller suits that I've for some reason kept around way longer than I've been able to wear it, and then left him to his own devices. Only now am I beginning to realize Jamie has likely never put on a suit before. I don't imagine the fighting ring ever called for formal attire.

I remember something about Midge, and then I remember something about Levi, and then I remember that in the past, those two things that I remembered about them didn't mix too well.