Very sorry we haven't updated in. . . Wow – 8 months?

Ooookay. Forget that. Just be happy that this story is still alive!

I know I am.

Loves, Lolly and Sharky.

I swear to God . . . the snow was so unbelievably beautiful. It was like, so white that it wasn't. You probably don't get what I mean . . . um, well, it looked like it was all the colours of the spectrum, just BECAUSE of how white it actually was.

If you saw anything like it, you'd know exactly what I'm talking about.

The solitude was hauntingly beautiful. I still shivered in my winter getup. You had to stand in this cold world to truly realize how insignificant you are in relation to the grand scheme of things. The coldness seemed to chill my heart with a giddy excitement. And the sky was different. From California, I mean. So much so that it was like California was another PLANET away or something.

And the isolation was thrilling.

So yup. We were all gonna be bunking in cabins provided by the North West

'Hey, this is awesome,' Dopey expressed articulately upon opening the door to the snow-topped cabin. He practically barrelled inside, leaving the Sleepy and Dad to carry the luggage.

I rolled my eyes and trudged my way through the snow to the other cabin just a few meters away from theirs.

Since the three of them were sharing one cabin, the rest of us were sharing another one. Well, I assumed that, anyway. It couldn't be helped really, because one cabin only had two rooms. At least I didn't have to share a cabin with Dopey. I feel sorry for Andy.

Cee opened the door to our cabin and held the door while I clumsily shuffled in along with my bags.

The cabin was warm and comfortable, so unlike the fake-gold-plated main building where the lobby was. There was a living room, a small kitchen, a bathroom and two bedrooms. It looked like a real log cabin, and I absolutely loved it.

It almost made me forget about a certain person who said a certain disturbing thing a while ago which I was trying to FORGET.

Hmph. One waiting. Pfft. That could mean ANYTHING, right? Like, there was one squirrel waiting to kill me in my sleep?

. . . I doubt that there'd be many squirrels in Alaska for some reason, though . . .

Cough.

David came in a moment later, empty handed for some reason, and went off to look at the rooms (probably picking the one with the fluffier bed) while I gratefully dropped my suitcases and fell on to the couch.

Cee set down her luggage and sat down beside me on the couch, sighing in relief. Then she groaned and said, 'Oh, do not tell me we have to make our own fire!'

I looked at her, puzzled, when I saw that she was looking at the fireplace. The lit and currently giving out warm heat fireplace. Then I laughed and said, 'Cee, I don't think we actually have to find firewood and stuff to keep the fire going.'

Getting up, I walked over to the mantelpiece and searched around on top of it. Upon seeing a small button at the side, I knew what I had guessed was right.

'Here, look, there's a button. I think the fireplace is electrically heated.' I pressed the button once and voila! The fire went out.

Cee smacks her forehead. 'Of course! I think it's lit by gas though, like a gas stove. Nifty. I don't know why I didn't think of that. The snow must be curdling my brain.'

I sat back on couch. 'Don't worry. We won't need to use our brains much here. Brad wouldn't know the difference anyway, since he doesn't have one.'

Cee looked at me disapprovingly, but her lips were twitching. I gave her a poke in the side through her thermals, and she poked me back. I poked her again. She poked me. Then we had a poke-war. A few seconds later we were laughing like nobody's business.

Not because it was funny, or anything. Just . . . we were in Alaska.

Unfortunately, my peaceful feelings came to an abrupt halt when Cee felt compelled to say, 'So that was weird, huh? Meeting Paul here of all places.'

Weird? Try ANNOYING.

I grumbled, 'Yeah. I hope he stays away from us.' I almost said 'me', but recovered in time. No need to make Cee all suspicious.

'Why are you so anti-Paul? I know that he caused trouble at the party at your house, but you've never told to me what happened between you two last summer.'

Here goes. I've been thinking when will she ask me this – the one thing I don't really want to talk about. But seeing her curious face, I guess I owed her an explanation. Or at least, half of it.

'Nothing happened. He was just – interested in me, and in the beginning I kinda – uh, resisted. But later I changed my mind and we went out once. That's pretty much it.'

Cee didn't look convinced. 'So what's with the hostility?'

Oh, so much, Cee! None of which I feel like telling you though.

I shrugged. 'We just parted on bad terms. And well, that thing with Brad's party.'

'And Jesse,' CeeCee said, raising her eyebrows.

I flushed, feeling way uncomfortable. She must think I'm such a freak. I mean, how would YOU think if your best friend's boyfriend is a ghost? Even I think it's weird sometimes, and he's MY boyfriend.

I stuttered something incoherent, fixing my gaze on the carpet.

There was silence for a while, then Cee said, 'What did he mean? Paul. When he said there's one waiting for you?'

As much as I was glad that she decided not to pursue the Jesse subject, I wasn't that happy that she chose to talk about Paul and his antics. That guy is SO not worth talking about.

I shrugged, trying to look unconcerned. 'I don't know. I barely understand what he says most of the time.'

Cee looked like she wanted to say something, but Doc came bounding over, chirping, 'One of the rooms have a king-sized bed and another room – the smaller one – has two single beds. I'm assuming you two want the smaller room?'

No, dear Doc. We want to share the same bed, and at night do things you can't even imagine.

'Yeah,' CeeCee answered, getting up to take her bags.

I reluctantly got up as Doc said 'This cabin isn't big enough for all us guys, anyway . . . ' and turned to go back to the room. Mid-turn he stopped and looked back at us. 'Er – do you need help with your bags? As I am the only male currently in this residence I feel obliged to fulfil the responsibility of handling the usual chores that males do, such as the bag shifting.'

Cee and I stared at him. Ickle Doc is so thoughtful. I smiled and said, 'You can carry my bag if you want to.'

He walked over and lifted my bag up. Or tried to. That extra charge for our luggage on the plane was not for nothing, people.

After a few seconds of puffing and groaning, he decided to just pull my bag, which was not an easy task considering the floor was carpeted. I stifled a laugh and said, 'That's okay, David. I'll carry my bag. Thanks for offering anyway.'

He looked embarrassed, but relented. We made our way down the hall where the rooms were situated in front of each other, with the bathroom at the end just besides the main room.

Our room was also carpeted, with two single beds, two large wardrobes, a small end table and a dresser. And there were no fireplaces, but a heater instead. Looking at the beds, I realised how tired I was and couldn't wait to get onto one and have a long, deep sleep.

And forget about what Cee and I had talked about earlier. She had dropped the subject thankfully, but I wasn't able to forget about it as easily. Of course I knew what Paul was talking about but I just didn't think that CeeCee needed to know. He could only mean one thing when he says that there's one for me.

One as in a member of the Undead Club, of course.

I seriously hoped he was lying, and was just saying that to rattle me. We all know what an honest and trustworthy person he is not.

Is it too much to ask for a peaceful vacation free from evil people, living or dead?

Huh. If there's one ghost that I want materializing in front of me right now, it would be of the hot Latino variety. Especially the one who is a rancher from 19th century.

Sighing, I plopped down on the bed and took off my jacket and my sweater. CeeCee was checking the little shampoo bottles in the bathroom and I decided a hot bath will be perfect right now. I could do the unpacking later. Zipping open my bag, I took out a change of clothes and my bag of toiletries.

I got up as Cee walked back into the room and told her, 'I'm gonna take a hot bath. How's the bathroom? Biggish?'

She nodded and said, 'Pretty big. There's a shower and a bath. Their shampoos and bath gels are pitiful though.'

I held up my own bottle of shampoo and said sweetly, 'That's why we need reinforcements, darling.' Then I trotted off.

Glancing around the bathroom, I saw that all the taps were plated with gold, and was reminded of the King Midas lobby again. The owner of the hotel is definitely some gold-obsessed weirdo.

Dumping my stuff on the counter where the two sinks were situated, I looked into the big wall mirror. I was greeted with the sight of a girl with flushed face and askew hair. Ugh. Turning the hot water tap on, I splashed some water on my face before turning it off and was about to take off my shirt when I happened to glance into the mirror again.

There was someone sitting at the edge of the bathtub behind me.

Very nearly screaming my head off, I let go of my shirt and stared in outrage at the guy through the mirror. He was sitting there casually and watching me with a spark of interest. His neck was a little craned, too, as if he was trying to see around me to catch the show in the mirror.

YEAH, BECAUSE I'D BEEN ABOUT TO STRIP OFF MY CLOTHES.

And he was OLD.

Not old, old, but like forty years plus, around Andy's age.

Eww. Ew, ew, ewww. PERVERT!

And did I mention that he was not breathing? Yes, ladies and gentleman, the ghost has entered the building.

Whipping around, I glared at him. He looked up at me, but then nearly fell off the edge of the tub in shock. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?' I practically yelled, before reminding myself that the least I need was Cee and Doc running around to see what's up. I tried to lower my voice. 'Who are you?'

He looked around wildly, before looking back at me and speaking in an amazed tone, 'You talking to me?'

I put my hands on my hips and hissed, 'No, I was asking the wall behind you, who looks like quite the conversationalist. Of course I was talking to you! And you haven't answered my question!'

He had longish brown hair, and a total potential beard thing happening. Not that he was, you know, unattractive as such. For an old-ish guy, he was okay. Pretty okay. Like how Father Dom was a sixty-something hottie. Or how Johnny Depp was still quite the looker. But the point was – I HAD BEEN ABOUT TO REMOVE MY CLOTHING WITH THIS GUY PRESENT.

So excuse me while I seethe in rage.

He blinked, still kind of shocked. 'Uhhhh – '

'Were you going to dematerialise any time soon? Before I undressed?' I demanded hotly. 'Do you just SPY on people who are about to get in the nuddy? Do you think that's why you died and became a stupid ghoul? To WATCH people shower? Are you a PEDOPHILE or s – '

'Hey,' he stood up – whoa . . . uh, tall much? ' . . . Ghoul?'

I rolled my eyes, and once again, tugged my shirt on tighter. My face was very hot. This was sure one way to warm up the Alaskan-virgin that was me. 'You're dead,' I said, looking away. 'Now, if you wouldn't mind, I really need to have a bath. I am quite certain that I smell – '

He looked startled. Like, really confused. His forehead wrinkled. 'Dead?'

Oh, that's just greeeeeeat.

'What happened?' I drawled in annoyance. 'Die of the freakin' cold? Or did you rot away in prison for being a freakin' Peeping Tom?'

He looked down at his hands. 'I . . . I don't remember.'

Yay. So he MIGHT have rotted in prison.

'Who the hell are you?' I snapped. I mean, come on. Just because he was coming to terms with the fact that he had a CORPSE, did NOT change the fact that he had been QUITE willing to watch me get NAKED.

He kept looking at his hands, not saying anything.

I sighed exaggeratedly, looking down at my hands. They were shivering. I really was freezing. Rubbing them together, I threw him a very dirty look again. 'Hello? Clock's ticking, here. If you want me to help you, you have to help me first.'

Did that make sense? Whatever. I was tired, and in dire need of a hot shower, and of course that the odds of me meeting a ghost at the place of vacation –

'That must be why I couldn't leave,' he suddenly spoke, as if to himself.

I paused from my mental complaining and stared at him. 'What did you say?'

He looked back at me, and I noticed that his eyes had a nice colour. Like a mix of blue and green. Wait . . . what the heck am I thinking? Ghost guy. About to see me naked. WAY WRONG.

'I couldn't leave this cabin. One day I woke up and . . . I was here. And I couldn't leave,' he continued, looking troubled. He should be, considering his amnesiac position.

'Wait a sec . . . ' I digested his words. Not literally, duh. 'You said you woke up here? You mean you . . . DIED here? In this cabin!'

He shrugged carelessly. 'That was the last thing I remember. Being here about . . . something. I can't remember . . . '

'Are you saying that the hotel gave us a cabin where a murder previously occurred? That is bullshit!' I exploded.

Okay, sure, my bedroom was also the scene of a murder, but that was like a century and a half ago. Not recently like . . . well, this guy has 'Recently Dead' practically written all across his forehead.

'We paid – I mean, Andy paid good money for this and they just gave us the cabin that probably had blood all over it – ew – we should get a refund and WHO is the owner of this hotel, anyway? We should have a talk with him, probably sue him or something . . . ' I babbled on, not really paying attention to the ghost guy.

Until what he said next.

'That would be me. Logan West, owner of the West Resort and Ski Lodge,' he said as he straightened up, his whole demeanour changed. Like he had unexpectedly become confident and sure of himself.

Like his name, his wealth was everything to him.

'Well . . . more like previous owner of the West Resort and Ski Lodge. Hate to break it to you, but you can't be the owner of any hotel if you're dead,' I told him, shaking my head. 'Oh and by the way, what's with all these gold stuff all over the place? Talk about bling-bling overload.'

Ghost guy – I mean, Logan looked outraged. 'I built this place from scratch, from when it was nothing and now you're telling me that I am not the owner anymore? What is left for me, then?'

Um, tricky question. What's left for him is Shadowland and moving on to where he should be. Although I didn't think it would be wise to tell him that right now . . . .

'Suze?' Cee Cee called out from behind the bathroom door. I almost jumped in shock, and Logan looked a little surprised too.

'Are you done?' she asked again.

'Uh, no, not yet,' I answered, wishing that I was done showering, and was now in my comfortable T-shirt and shorts. Damn Ghost Guy.

'Okay, well, hurry up. Andy said we're having dinner at the hotel restaurant tonight, so get ready,' she continued.

'Yeah, sure.'

There was a silence. I noticed that Logan was looking at the front of my shirt for some reason, before I realised that he was staring at my chest.

Was he CHECKING me out? Ew, that was DISGUSTING.

'Excuse ME, I'm up here!' I snapped, pointing to my face while crossing my arms at the same time. Jeez.

Aren't being dead supposed to mean that your hormones are dead TOO?

Suddenly I recalled my goodbye kiss with Jesse.

Hmm. I guess not.

'Are you talking to someone in there?' Cee Cee's voice called out again, sounding curious.

My eyes bugged out. 'No! I mean, no, of course not. I was just . . . talking to myself about the . . . facilities in here. They're so modern.'

'Okay . . . ' she trailed off, and this time, I hear her walking away.

'Right,' I said acidly, whipping back to face Logan, who was tiredly leaning against the wall. His eyes snapped back up to mine the minute he realised I was mad at him again. Yeah, where his gaze had been before, I did not want to know. 'YOU get out, buddy, because I am going to have a SHOWER right now because I am REALLY cold, and I don't need a fifty-something old guy perving on me while – '

'I'm only forty-four!' he said indignantly, taking angered steps toward me.

I backed off a little, as my heart started thudding in something of fear. 'Whoa,' I murmured, 'Move away from me please. Scary, now.'

He realised that he'd practically backed me into the wall, and retreated sheepishly.

'Your name?' he changed the subject after an awkward moment of silence.

'Suze,' I said shortly. 'Suze Simon. I . . . um, I see the dead. That's how I can see you.'

He blinked, and turned away from me slightly, looking very confused and a little overwhelmed. 'God,' he muttered under his breath, 'I had no idea why everyone was ignoring me. There – but – ' he turned back to me fervently, his eyes glaring determinedly, 'There was a boy outside this cabin. He saw me! He spoke to me. He was rude, but still he talked to me. I was standing by the window, calling to anyone who'd help me out of here, and he was the only one that answered – '

I sighed, suddenly connecting all the dots. 'That was Paul,' I informed him grumpily. 'He warned me that . . . you'd be here. He failed to mention you'd try to spy on me showering, though.'

'I'm sorry,' he said, not sounding sorry at all.

'You're only sorry that you got caught,' I snapped. 'You would have enjoyed the show guiltlessly if I hadn't known you were here!'

'Well,' he replied, sounding stubborn, 'No one else knew I was there. I had to enjoy the advantages, right?'

'I'm sixteen!' I squeaked at him. 'You're almost three times my age! And I have a boyfriend, so – '

'That Paul fellow, I assume?' he asked idly, smoothing back his dark hair with a lazy grin.

I didn't hear him at first, but when the foreign words reached me, I said VERY pointedly, 'No! God no . . . eww . . . '

Logan sat back down on the edge of the bathtub, and looked around wistfully.

'Hey, what are you getting comfortable for?' I narrowed my eyes at him. 'Out! It's showertime!'

At first he had an expression of, So . . . ? but then remembered I didn't particularly WANT an audience, and stood up accordingly. 'Oh yes, sorry – '

'No you're not,' I sighed. 'Just get out, I'll deal with you later.'

'Where do I wait?' he asked me.

'I don't care,' I was now starting to get very frustrated from cold. I bounced on the spot a little, rubbing my arms. 'Just don't annoy from friend or my little brother, and I won't exorcise your ass to oblivion.'

See? I KNEW I'd be needing my supplies of chicken blood and candles. Mind you, the blood was probably a block of red ice by now.

Logan West dematerialised with a look of shock and offence. Oh yeah, how DARE I threaten the would-be paedophile? That's like, so immoral of me or something.

Not a noooooote of sarcasm there.

Finally turning on the hot water, I checked one last time that I wasn't being watched, before stripping down, covering my girl-bits, and hopping hurriedly beneath the searing, soul-warming cascade of water. My feet prickled very painfully from the huge change of temperature, and had pins and needles for about three minutes. After my body was back up to a normal temperature, I began washing my hair, thinking grumpily about Paul's last minute decision to haunt me again.

Maybe it wasn't last minute. Hell, he'd probably had this planned for ages.

Damn those Slaters and their forward planning!

Missing Jesse and his protectiveness very much by now, I finally exited the shower, wrapping a towel very firmly around my body.

No perverts. So far, so good.

As I changed into my new clothes and entered my room, however, I was horrified to see that Logan was going through my things.

'What the hell do you think you're doing?' I squeaked in fury. He looked up guiltily, then gave me a crooked I-couldn't-help-myself smile, and moved away from my suitcase.

Mortified, I slammed my suitcase shut, then turned around, and kicked him very hard in the shins.

'Get out!' I hissed at him, still mindful that Doc was in the next room, and that CeeCee was going around to all areas of the cabin to turn the heating on.

'I can't,' Logan answered cockily. 'You're stuck with me, sweetheart.'

My patience was REALLY being tested now . . . I mean, I have sanitary pads in that bag! Ugh, this was BEYOND embarrassing.

'Right,' I growled, dragging my wet hair off of my face. 'Okay, look, just . . . wait here, I'm gonna figure out what I'm going to do with you.'

Incredibly annoyed, I tugged my thermals back on, and my boots. I was going to get shivery again. Golly, this was so not cool.

Well, I mean, it WAS going to be cool. But in a bad way.

I turned back to him just as I was about to leave the room of my cabin, 'And don't touch my stuff! That's – just – so – eww!'

He sighed, looking bored. 'Don't be long,' he said, 'I . . . I haven't had anyone to talk to in a while . . . '

'Big deal,' I shot back at him, before slamming the door. 'CeeCee! David! I'm just gonna go out for a second, won't be long – '

'CeeCee's in the shower,' David said shyly. 'I've got to go back to my cabin again later, so I have to go put my thermals back on also, otherwise I become dangerously at risk of frostbite – '

I stopped, and raised an eyebrow. 'Oh. You're not . . . staying in this cabin?'

Okay . . . now I was weirded out. I thought he was in my clan. Not Dopey's. What was happening here? I just assumed that he was in ours. I mean, he'd been haunting this place since we got here . . . attempting to move our bags and stuff, so what was the deal?

Doc blinked in confusion, and his ears went pink. His hair looked very red against his royal blue thermals. 'Of course not. I was only here now strictly as a visitor. Your company is by far preferable over the other option. I mean, you'd obviously prefer to just be with CeeCee, wouldn't you? Wouldn't my masculinity be an intrusion?'

My fuzzy pink bunny slippers had more masculinity than Doc.

Smiling and feeling slightly guilty for that thought, I replied, 'I thought you were staying with us. Only cool people can stay in this cabin, and since you're cool, I guess I assumed that you'd want to hang around with your fellow cool kind. But if you WANT to go and get pummelled by Brad every five minutes, just like home . . . '

'You want me to stay with you?' Doc gagged, looking astounded. 'I'm not . . . annoying?'

'David!' I feigned a hurt look, 'You're my buddy. Of course you're not annoying. You're the only Ackerman, save your dad, that I can stand. I mean, Jake . . . snores. Plus he smells like pizzas. You don't.' I straightened myself up.

'It would do me great honour, Master Ackerman, if you would reside in this humble abode.' I did a William-Tell styled bow, twirling my hand as I did – a lot harder in thermals. 'And you can have the master bedroom with the king size bed. I honestly assumed you were only telling us about that before because you were choosing which room YOU wanted. So yeah. Stay with us.'

Doc's face, whose freckles were more stark than usual from the cold, split into a great big grin. Then, he shrugged casually. 'Whatever,' he said, using a word that was so uncharacteristic for him I almost cringed. 'I guess, if Dad lets me.'

'I'll make him an offer he can't refuse,' I winked, before rumpling up his hair.

Then, he added, with obviously some effort, 'Because I really like – hanging out with you and stuff.'

'Wow, you're really working on your hipspeak, aren't you?' I grinned. 'It's coming along great. We'll have you sounding like a regular human any day now, Doc.'

He beamed at me. 'I never thought I'd be the one to undermine my superior intelligence,' he said. 'But . . . when in Rome. . .'

'We're in Alaska,' I pointed out. 'And that made absolutely no sense. Dave, just make sure you don't sink down to Brad's level where no one can make any sense of your bad combination of words.'

'Hah hah,' he said sarcastically. 'I don't think it's impossible to become less intelligent, Suze.'

'Stick someone in a room for five days straight with Kelly Prescott, and it certainly is,' I countered.

'Hey, do you think that . . . ' he looked nervous again, 'that CeeCee will mind if I borrow her book on Chaos Theory? I've just always wanted to read up on that, and the internet never seemed to offer satisfying explanations of its – '

'She won't mind,' I said, 'Tell her I let you read it.'

'Excellent,' he smiled merrily.

Hehe, that little guy is gorgeous. To think, he thought I couldn't stand him or something! I – I could SO stand him.

I informed him that I would be back shortly, and asked him to pass on this information to CeeCee after she was showered, hopefully not being watched by Logan.

Eww . . . what a horrible thought . . .

Exiting the cabin, I wasn't smiling so much anymore. Not just because the icy wind was blowing at my face and messing up my wet hair where it wasn't covered by the beanie – although it was like getting free blow-dry, wasn't it? Except it's cold air.

No. I wasn't smiling because I remembered bitterly, that I not only had a ghost to take care of now, but was going to seek the help of someone who wasn't even supposed to be here.

Not that I was planning on asking for actual help from Paul. I'd just yell at him some, get my frustrations out – through, um, verbal abuse, not fornicating – and I'd be able to have a clear head to cope with the fact that my vacation was spoilt by the presence of a ghost who wanted to see me naked.

Yes. Yelling at Paul is therapeutic for me. Just like making out with Jesse is pleasurab –

Um . . . yeah.

I trudged over the snow along the stone pathways back towards the main reception area of the resort. I planned to ask someone there what cabin Paul was in. If they refused to divulge this information, I'd door knock. I mean, I was mad, remember? So, I cannot be held responsible for my obsessive compulsive antics to finding the one on whom I'd release my rage.

Even if I'm not obsessive compulsive by nature.

Not forgetting my awe of the Alaskan view, I looked around at the flawless snow. It had changed shade from earlier; now, it was a dull, pale cobalt blue colour. I mean, VERY pale. Some white-tinted shades of orange were also present. The sun was starting to set, see. It was as if no actual white could be seen, but only splashes of colour.

Some spectrum crap, I'm sure.

Continuing along the path some more and losing some of my anger to wonder, I found myself at the reception area. I entered, pulling my gloves off and breathing on my hands. God, I was really going to have to get used to these clothes. They were pretty restricting.

Although, I'd prefer to be in these, than a miniskirt and a camisole when out frolicking in the Alaskan snow. Not that I wear those anyway. I think a certain INCIDENT in someone's house had made me sworn off miniskirts of any kind.

See? Another reason to hate Paul. He's seriously crimping my fashion.

The moment I pushed the doors open, I was greeted with a highly welcoming warmth. God, I wish our cabin was always this warm. Mind you . . . I guess the heating in our cabin hadn't been on for very long. It looked like it was pretty good as far as insulation went. I hoped I wouldn't be proved wrong at a later date. Or else I'd have to add 'frostbite' to my list of accumulated injuries my poor body has had to endure over the years.

I peeled off my beanie, and fluffed my hair out. It was still a little wet, but most of it had dried to curl naturally around past my shoulders. I was glad I'd decided to grow it. Maybe it was the cold, but my hair felt incredibly soft, something I was most happy about. I then unzipped my jacket and dumped it temporarily on the floor. I had on a warm, smooth polo neck that was the prettiest shade of lavender, so I wasn't freezing.

Walking quickly up to the main desk, I sighed. The girl sitting there – the same one as before, with the mousy hair and the snooty face, looked up with needle sharp eyes. They were quite a nice colour: halfway between blue and green.

'Yes?' she asked, her face stretching into a commercial smile.

'I was just wondering,' I said, my eyes falling down to her name badge, which announced her name was Ellie, 'If you could tell me which cabin Paul Slater is in?'

She didn't look much older than me, either . . . say about, nineteen maybe?

Her eyes glazed over in suspicion. 'I'm not allowed to give that information out, I'm afraid,' she sniffed, giving me a thin-lipped smile. She had a bit of lipstick on her teeth. She was actually an attractive girl, save the discolouration of her hair. Just yeah, she wasn't what I'd call "pretty." Just attractive in the sense that she had very sharp features.

CeeCee says I have soft facial features. I'm the kind of girl you wouldn't suspect, ya know? Unless you've seen me in my leather, anyway. CeeCee's very pretty too, in a pale way. Her eyes are stunning in all their purple glory, despite their eccentricity.

Wish Adam McTavish would realise that.

'Oh,' I said in disappointment. 'Uh . . . I really need it. You see, this guy goes to my school, and we were supposed to meet up here – '

'I'm sorry,' she said robotically. 'But that's really not my problem.' Flicking her classily styled hair a little, she gave me one last practiced fake smile.

'I'm not going to stalk him or anything,' I said, starting to lose my cool. 'I just need to know where he is – '

She broke her bored eye-contact with me, and looked up. Her eyes lost that lazy quality they'd had during our conversation, and they widened a little in interest. Before I could turn around and see what was so fascinating, I felt arms slide around my waist.

'Hi,' Paul said in my ear.

Tensing in shock, I pushed his arms off. After shooting Ellie, the receptionist, a See?-We-KNOW-each-other-you-gaylord glare, I spun around, still in between his arms. 'I – I was looking for you,' I said nervously.

'Aren't you always?' he smirked.

He'd obviously had a shower too. He . . . smelt really good . . .

Blinking with some embarrassment, I pushed him away from me. 'Come on,' I said, now getting some of my pissiness back, 'We need to have a few words, Slater.'

He chuckled darkly in my ear. Well, I'm glad SOMEONE was enjoying themselves here. We wandered over to the side of the reception area. Ellie was eyeing me with some dislike, with a gaze she obviously assumed I could not see. I turned to Paul, and gave him a dirty look. 'Okay, now t – '

'I didn't know your hair was that curly,' Paul interrupted as he smiled at me. He grazed his finger along my hairline, and down the side of my face, sweeping a stray curl away from my eyes. I pushed his hand away. I had planned to straighten it like usual, but the Ghost of Christmas Loser, aka Logan, had been haunting my bathroom. 'Paul, we really need to talk. I'm talking about a big, long talk which will probably end up in me hitting you very hard – '

'And us kissing?' he arched an eyebrow, a twisted smirk hooking his lips upward, 'I mean, all our talks seem to end up like that too . . . '

I completely ignored how closely he was standing. Ugh. This was just proving how much he did NOT affect me. 'Shut up. Firstly, what are you doing here? Did Brad tell you we were coming? Because that is so like him. I mean, it's a little too much of a coincidence for you to show up at the exact same time as me,' I added sourly, my lip curling a little. 'So don't use that excuse.'

He lifted his chin a little, examining my face carefully. 'Met the ghost yet?'

I swelled up in fury. 'Don't change the subject. Why are you here? Because I'm this close, buddy,' I held my thumb and index finger very closely together in front of his face, 'To getting an intervention order out on your or something, because I don't appreciate being stalked when I'm trying to have a fun, relaxing vacation – '

'You think time with me would be anything but fun and relaxing?' he took a step back finally, and regarded me with a what looked like a leer. 'Then again, you don't exactly give me much of a chance.'

I gritted my teeth. 'Off topic again. Look, I just wanted to make it clear that even though we're both mysteriously here at the same time, that doesn't mean we'll be . . . interacting. Or talking. Or looking at each other. Or using up our limited brain power to think of one another. Not that MY brain power is limited, if you know what I mean. And if you're even thinking the words "shifting lessons," I will pound on your ass so badly that – '

As if talking to someone else, Paul looked sideways and said very clearly, 'Pounding on my ass. She thinks that would bother me.'

I sent him a withering look, and brushed past him rather aggressively.

Laughing, Paul said, 'Wait,' and his hand shot to my shoulder to stop me from leaving in a huff. I turned back to him with a face of venom. 'What?'

'That wasn't all you wanted to say,' he told me.

'Oh,' I said, 'Yeah.'

'Come on,' Paul said invitingly, smiling that million dollar smile he had, 'Come grab a drink with me. We can talk and threaten and blackmail and insult each other some more.'

I shook my head. 'I left my wallet in my – '

'My shout,' Paul cut in.

With a sigh, I finally consented. Two minutes later, we were sitting in the little café, aptly named Café West. It was adjacent to the big fancy-schmancy restaurant where Andy said he was going to take us for dinner. I hoped to God that the food that would be good – I was starving.

'So, what can I get you?' Paul asked, wrinkling his nose at our only menu, 'Coffee?'

'Um,' I said, 'I don't drink coffee . . . is there a hot chocolate or something?'

'Sure.'

We waited a moment for a pimply but otherwise very pretty thirteen year old girl who was waiting tables. 'What would you like?' she asked squeakily, blushing furiously when she looked at Paul.

'Hot chocolate and cappuccino,' Paul told her, and sent her a heart-warming smile that made him look every bit the movie-star she probably thought he was. She half-grinned, looked too self-conscious, and started scribbling down the order. 'Um, anything else?'

'No thank you,' I said helpfully, giving her a cheerful smile. 'Your necklace is very pretty, by the way.'

She looked fondly down at it. 'My auntie gave it to me.' She grinned at me, then looked back at Paul, blushed, stopped smiling, and scurried away.

'You could have been nicer,' I sniffed at him.

'I was nice,' Paul's smile fell away. 'How was I not nice?'

'She was dying of embarrassment,' I scolded.

'Nah, she was just scoping me out,' Paul leant back in his seat, looking smug. 'I was nice; I let her look.'

I glared at him. 'You are so in love with yourself, it's disgusting.'

Looking rather insulted, Paul answered, 'What? I can't help it if some pizza-face kid thinks I'm hot. How can I help that, exactly?'

Anger flared up within me, as if he'd called me that as well. Wow. Personality means SO much to Paul Slater.

I rolled my eyes. 'I loathe your kind.'

He looked rather grumpy now. 'Can I do no right with you?'

'No, you can't,' I said huffily. 'Although, climbing down from your cloud of arrogance would be a good start.' Then I added, furiously, 'If I had a couple of zits on my face, would you even look twice at me?'

He stumbled on his reply. 'I – huh? How can you ask that? Of course I w – I mean . . . ' he looked distinctly uncomfortable. 'Anyway, so, about that ghost – '

Remind me to eat lots and LOTS of chocolate.

'Yeah, I have met the ghost. Why was it that you sicced him on me? I mean, charity cases I can do. But not while I'm trying to have an enjoyable, loser-free time. Brad was the only exception; Andy said he had to come. So why is it that losers such as yourself and Mr Logan West, seem determined to ruin what I thought was going to be a nice break from my life, lack thereof?'

'Hmm,' Paul agreed, 'I didn't like him either. But I didn't sic him on you. He disappeared on me. Not my fault that he seemed prefer talking to YOU.'

Prefer talking? Try . . . SPYING. I looked downward, and inwardly shuddered. Heat came to my face quickly at the recent recollection. 'He . . . he tried to watch me – you know . . . undress.'

Scandalised, Paul straightened up, no longer looking amused. 'That son of a – and did he . . . you know, see you?'

I huffed. 'NO. I saw him before anything happened. But it didn't make it right, okay? Besides, he went through my stuff after that. Do you know how VIOLATED my privacy was? He didn't even want to leave when I asked him to! So I'm thinking maybe we could, I don't know, ask him about his business – what's wrong with you?'

The girl we'd met before brought out drinks to us. She gave me a shy smile, but didn't even look at Paul. He was too busy staring at me to notice anyway. 'Thanks,' I said to her cheerfully. She nodded, and then got out of there fast. I started sipping my hot chocolate, thankful for its heat. Then, I gave Paul a questioning look. 'Yeah?'

Paul had a strange look on his face, like he didn't know whether to laugh or not. 'Suze . . . look, I know what he did was wrong, but come on. You're acting like you've never had a ghost in your room before.'

I stared at him for a second, the meaning of his words flying above my head. Must be the cold. My brain wasn't functioning as well as I wanted it to.

After taking another long sip of hot chocolate, I snapped. 'What is THAT supposed to mean? You know that with –' I didn't feel comfortable saying Jesse's name to Paul because of their history of blood-and-broken-bones, but I ploughed on anyway, 'With Jesse, it's different.'

'How?' Paul asked me, sipping his cappuccino boredly.

'He's from 1850!' I said in outrage, that he'd even SUGGEST it. 'He would never –'

'So you're telling me that Jesse never spied on you?' Paul laughed. 'Simon, are you sure he's not gay?'

I looked at him in shock. It was either slap him, kick Paul Junior or make a witty comeback.

Or all of the above, I'm not picky.

Finally, I slapped his chuckling face instead due to a) my boots were too heavy to actually lift up and kick his you-know-what, and b) I had no witty retort to say, unbelievable as that sounds. Me, Suze Simon, has nothing to say?

Again, I blame the cold.

Paul looked a little pissed, but by the time he had managed to utter anything coherent, I was halfway across the lobby, my palm still stinging from the slap. I picked up my thermal jacket and my gloves and beanie that I'd dumped near the reception desk, put it all back on, and then got the hell out of there.

Huh. That'd show him. Who says I need his help anyway? It wasn't like I've never mediated ghosts without him before. In fact. I've probably mediated more ghosts than he ever had.

And yet, as I walked back to my cabin, one thought nagged in my mind. And it wasn't about Paul.

Has Jesse ever spied on me?

I mean . . . what if he just accidentally caught a show, then . . . not so accidentally forgot to look away? I was always putting myself at risk of being spied on, even if I DID trust Jesse.

Then again . . . did I really MIND? I mean, I loved the guy. Hell, I wanted to see HIM naked. Could I really hold it against him if he'd taken to checking out me in the buff?

However, all that was completely forgotten when, upon opening my cabin door again, I saw Logan standing in front of me, grinning.

'Oh,' I griped. 'You're still here?'

Excuse me while I go dive into a nearby frozen lake.