A secret floor? A secret entrance? A ghost girl?

I felt like she nodded, but I couldn’t be sure. “After midnight, when nearly every guest is tucked into their rooms and the hotel is quiet and dark, they say you can see her…” she nearly whispered, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “Dancing by herself—like a ballerina—down in the dark, moonlit ballroom. Dancing to a haunting lullaby.”

I watch her lips move, concealed mostly in shadow, but I could make out the outline.

“Another story tells of a ballerina dancing on the twelfth-floor balcony, too,” she continued. “They could see her from the windows higher up. The light rain, shining as it reflects the city lights, dancing with her as she twirls and leaps in the air. Stories added up over the years, sightings and questions… A girl who never checked in and never checks out, hiding by day and dancing by night.” And then her voice dropped to a whisper, making the hair on my arms stand up. “Always alone, always hiding.”

It couldn’t be true, but I kind of wanted to believe it was. It was like a treasure hunt, wasn’t it? A girl, concealed from the world, hiding. Right under everyone’s nose.

“Why are you telling me this story?”

“Because she’s still there,” she replied. “Hiding on the secret floor. Alone. At least that’s what I like to believe. Secrets and mysteries make life fun, don’t they?”

I smiled to myself, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees again. “Yeah.”

Her fingers came up to the screen, and I finally saw a piece of her. Her slender hand, fingertips, and short nails.

“I like your secrets.” She sounded breathless. “And who are you really hurting by keeping them? Right?”

The wind and water surrounded me, and I realized that’s where the scent had come from. I’d smelled her as soon as I stepped into the confessional. She was already here.

“Do you listen to other peoples’ confessions often?” I asked, somewhat amused.

“Sometimes.”

Her reply was so quick, I couldn’t help but admire her. I liked that she felt so at ease being honest, and I kind of hoped it was because of me.

“I lie, too,” she offered.

“To whom?”

“To my family,” she said. “I lie to them all the time.”

“What do you lie to them about?”

“Anything I need to keep them happy. I tell them I’m fine when I’m not. I see my mother, and I’m not supposed to. I lie about my struggle to be loyal.”

“Is it important to keep the truth from them?”

“As necessary as their desire to know my every step, yes.” Her fingers drifted down the screen, her nails scraping it barely. “They still see me as a child. Incapable.”

“You sound like you might be,” I mused. “Young, I mean.”

A scoff escaped her lips, challenging me. “I was ancient at six. Can you hear the sound of that?”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure her out. Her voice, everything she said, who she was… Ancient at six. She’d grown up too soon. That’s what she’d meant.

Leaning back again, I watched her dark form shift on the other side of the screen. I wanted to see her, but I didn’t want to stop talking, either. Not just yet.

She said she couldn’t talk to me if I saw her. Did I know her then?

“We’re only ever good, because there are consequences,” I told her. “Take those away, and everyone shows their true self. Kind of like taking off a mask.”

“Or putting one on,” she replied. “After all, there’s freedom in hiding, isn’t there?”

Yeah, I guess—

“Do you like the feel of a mask?” she chirped, changing the subject.

It was kind of out of the blue, and my heart skipped a beat. “Why would you ask me that?”

She knew who I was, didn’t she? She knew it was Devil’s Night.

“I like the feel of one,” she said. “Like this screen and the darkness. They’re kind of like masks, aren’t they?”

Kind of.

“I could be anyone.” Her fragile voice smoothed over, turning playful. “I could be a girl you grew up with. A classmate. Someone’s little sister. The kid you used to babysit when you were sixteen…”

The corner of my lips lifted, and I entertained the idea. Although I didn’t recognize her voice, that didn’t mean I didn’t know her. She could be a girl I passed in the halls every day. Someone I never gave a second glance to. Or she could be a buddy’s girlfriend or one of the gardener’s kids. Who knew?

“And you could be anyone, too,” she pondered. “A friend’s boyfriend, a teacher I had a crush on, or one of my father’s friends. You could say anything to me. I could say anything to you. And there’s no embarrassment, because we never have to face each other. Not if we don’t want to.”

I leaned closer again, trying to breathe in more of her scent.

I wanted to see her. I definitely had to see her.

“I’ll keep your secrets,” I told her. “No matter who you are.”

“You are one of my secrets,” she shot back. “I’m trying to steal you, but I wish I didn’t want to.”

“What does that mean?” Steal me?

“So, what do you like to watch?” she asked.

“Huh?” She changed the subject again. She was moving a mile a minute, and I was having a hard time keeping up.

“In your confession, you said you like to watch. Watch what?”

I chewed the corner of my mouth, hesitant. “I think you know,” I replied, caging. “Figure it out, big girl.”

She laughed for the first time. It was this perfect, innocent sound, and my hands hummed with the urge to touch her all of a sudden.

“And what if I like to watch, too?” she teased. “Show me with your words.”

“I can’t.” I looked down, embarrassed despite myself.

“Please,” she asked again, her voice dropping to a whisper, and I swore I could feel the heat of her breath on my face. “Talk to me. Tell me what you don’t tell anyone else.”

I shook my head, struggling. The way she talked…. Sometimes it was like a woman, straddling my lap with her lips inches from mine.

But just now, it was like a little girl, desperate for a treat.

“When was your last confession, little one?” I prodded, inching further into her territory.

“I’ve never had one.”

“Aren’t you Catholic?”

“No.”

Then why was she here?

But then again, why was she in the priest’s chamber, too? “You’re a little mystery yourself, aren’t you?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

“Come on. What do you like to watch?” she repeated, pushing me.

I opened my mouth, but just ended up letting out a sigh.

Jesus. What do I like to watch? I can’t tell her that. Fuck.

I closed my eyes. I needed to leave. What if she knew me? What if I went to school with her? What if she was someone I’d like? She wouldn’t want to know this shit.

But as if she knew my fear, she told me, “Don’t be afraid. I’m already imagining the worst, and I’m still here, right?”

I shook my head, feeling stupid, but I laughed anyway. “I like…” I ran a hand up and down my face. “One of my friends had a girl in the media room this summer,” I said, starting over. “It was late, we were all really lit, and the mood was getting heated. He started kissing her and feeling her up, nothing I haven’t seen before, but she would look over at me, probably expecting that I would join in, but…”

I inhaled a deep breath. I didn’t feel like I was safe right now. I didn’t feel like I was hiding in this dark, fucking confessional with a screen between me and this girl I may or may not know. I should shut up.

But part of me didn’t want to. Every word brought me closer to the edge. Closer to falling. I wanted to fall.

I continued. “Something kept me rooted in my seat this time. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, but I couldn’t move, either.”