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They say Pine Valley is special. They say the veil between our world and the next is thin here.
They have no idea.
My name is Alex, and I'm the reason this town is so damn lively. I'm a walking, talking supernatural dinner bell. Ghosts, ghouls, things that go bump in the night—they all get a whiff of my unique energy and come running. Or floating. Or oozing.
My life is a constant state of low-grade paranormal panic. But I found a solution. Or so I thought.
I joined the Pine Valley Supernatural Club. I figured, who better to protect me from the things that want to siphon my soul than the people who hunt them for fun?
I was an idiot.
Because the club isn't run by grizzled veterans. It's run by them.
There's Lexi. The leader. He's got a body that could launch a thousand ships and the smug, deadpan attitude of a guy who knows it. He's a femboy conspiracy theorist who treats my personal space like his own private playground. Every "accidental" brush of his hip against mine feels calculated.
Then there's Yuki. A ball of chaotic energy who claims to be a spiritual medium but seems more interested in using me as her personal teddy bear. Her idea of a ritual is summoning spirits to watch us cuddle. She smells like strawberries and trouble.
And Sage. The tall, quiet one. The "club mom." She looks at me with those soft, red eyes like I'm a lost puppy she needs to adopt, feed, and maybe never let go of. Her "caring" feels a lot like possession.
They're tomboys. To the world, they're just three quirky guys. But to me? They're a relentless, confusing, and alluring storm.
We were in the old library last night, investigating a reported poltergeist. Books were flying off the shelves, heading straight for me. A normal club would have been terrified.
My club? Lexi just smirked. "See? Your aura is acting up again. Stand closer to me, I'll block them." He didn't mean the books.
Yuki was trying to "channel the spirit," which involved her clinging to my arm and whispering, "Ooh, it's so cold, share your body heat, Alex!"
And Sage? She just sighed, pulled me behind her, and said, "Don't worry, Alex. Mommy will protect you." The ghost, frustrated and ignored, literally vanished with a confused pop.
My aura might attract every supernatural freak in a fifty-mile radius.
But the real danger? The only haunting that truly has its claws in me?
It's the three tomboys my aura actually works on, and their obsession is just getting started.
My Aura Attracts Tomboys, Not Ghosts.