SSA Rain Christiansen used to be the agency's golden boy. It just takes one moment of weakness, one tiny paranormal sighting, and all of a sudden, he's the agency's embarrassment. His boss gives him one last chance to redeem himself - go down to Brickell Bay, play nice with the local police, and leave the ghost sightings behind. Rain is determined to do exactly that, even if it kills him. Cold-case Detective Daniel McKenna's latest investigation is going nowhere fast. Daniel is glad to finally have the FBI help his department requested, even if it does come in the form of his ex.

The snick of a lock. The squeak of door hinges. The creak of a floorboard... Nothing is more mysterious than footsteps in the dark. Are those approaching steps that of friend or enemy? Lover or killer?

In "The Waste Land,” T. S. Eliot’s eulogy for all that is buried after World War I, April promises a flowering. But as the world mourns the spirit of a bygone era, what future can emerge from the cold, dead, infertile ground? Doubt and fear grip the narrator, too, in “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” - a self-examination of an anxious, overeducated man unable to act against feelings of paralyzing impotence.

College is weird. One second you're studying for a huge exam in integrated physics and the next you're secretly drooling over the sexy rugby player living in the dorm next door. The second after that, you're sharing a bed with that same Insta-famous jock, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what in gay heaven caused such a miraculous and terrifying thing. Maybe inviting him to stay at my family's house for the summer wasn't the greatest idea I've ever had?

Troy: Of course I fell for a football jock. But Jackson and I are polar opposites. He's popular, confident, and as hot as hell in a tight T-shirt. Me? I'm just a scrawny, awkward nerd. Another point of difference: He's straight.