His eyes.
I felt it before I've seen it. He has this way of making his presence known to me, a small tell that he's around and I hate it. I hate how he could make himself known to every nerve in my body. How my body tenses, a crippling cold enveloping my frame while I meet his eyes dead-on.
There's something there. There's something in his eyes that I couldn't quite place.
And there's also something—no, someone in his lap that has admittedly caught me off-guard.
So this is who Lucas is.
A wave of disappointment coursed along my body and I tore my eyes off of him—off the sight of whoever the woman was, kissing his neck. I could feel his eyes on me even as I turned. Walking to the farthest side of the counter and flashing a sickly, sweet smile to the barman attending to drinkers.
"Dry Martini," I hummed, letting my hand brush upon his', and I saw him grinning in delight as he whispers, "This one's on me, darling."
Triumph danced all over my body as I leaned back and delicately propped myself on the stool. I could still feel Lucas' eyes burning at my back. Good. It means he's seen what I did. And for some reason I couldn't quite understand, I felt a wave of delight washing over me at the knowledge of letting him see the kind of power—control—I have from the people around me.
Everything is under my control, Lucas. Mine. So you're not gonna strut around here, messing with my head, my composure, my feelings. Because this is not your world, but mine.
I fought the urge to tilt my head and cast him a glance. Even with this distance, I know that he's watching. And it makes my gut recoil, my insides turmoil, my entire body cold, but I can't show any of that to him.
I'm invincible. I can't show him how rattled I am inside. How his mere presence sends me spiralling, head throbbing, insides protesting.
I hate him. And I hate the ghost I see with him around.
But it's not him, I tell myself. It's not him.
"Dry Martini for the beautiful lady" The barman gave me a wink that seems to say, give me your number, as he slid me my glass and I rewarded him with another brush of our fingers. It's the closest he could ever get.
"How very generous of you," I smile, leaning back before flushing down the cocktail in my system. I let it wash over me in silence.
"Could I maybe get rewarded with your phone number, darling?"
Called it.
Plastering a faux, flirtatious smile, I prop my hands on my lap before promptly saying, "No." It won't ever be that easy around me, honey.
With that, the barman drops his then, placid looking smile. The change in his demeanor sends chills all over my body. I freeze. Quite literally since it's only dawn to me how incredibly cold this place was.
How many acs do they even have around here?
"Oh come on love, I could get you and your friends as many drinks as you want for free, you know" He smiles once more. This time, strained and he leans forward to search for my now, blazing brown eyes. I lean back, out of instinct.
God, it's cold.
"No thanks," I press, shuffling in my seat in preparation to walk away. "We can pay for our own." My then fake-flirtatious front changes and I met his hardening gaze with a fiery set of my own. I'm angry.
His jaw then sets, reaching over my arm just as I stood to my ground and he pulls me to his direction in a whim.
The nerve.
I smile at him. Unfriendly, while I try and pull away from his grip.
"Let. Me. Go." I keep the smile, digging my nails on his arm while he watches me struggle with a grin of his own. I felt my heart hammer in my chest. And no, it's not out of fear. I meet his eyes once more. He's such a cocky little bastard. If it weren't for this counter separating us, I would've already kicked him in the balls. But no, I'm forced to lean forward while his other hand tries to cup my chin and it took everything in me, not to scream. A flood of disturbing images flashed right before my eyes and I felt my control slip for the slightest second.
I feel like suffocating.
This is not real.
"Oh come on, don't make this harder for us both" I looked at him but it's not his voice that I hear. I felt myself choking in my own breath. He's gone. He's gone. He's gone, this is not him.
"Ash?" Overhead, I heard the sound of Kiera's voice from the other side of the bar. Or, at least I seem to think so. Everything is a blur right now and all I feel is a red hot fury coursing along my veins. I felt the anger accumulating in my body. My vision starts to spot and I was filled with undue resentment and horror as I felt my free hand gain a sudden surge of strength and I lifted it while keeping a silent mantra in my head.
This is not real, this is not him, not him, it's not him, it's—
Him.
I felt the barman's hand untangle the moment I release my other. My free hand was already caught in its momentum and I widen my eyes for the briefest moment, before it sticks toward Lucas' cheek and he only blinks despite being met by my aggression in his attempt of freeing me from my abuser. I stagger backwards and was met with Kiera's hands, catching me from my shock while her disbelief seems to mirror my own.
"Are you okay?" I think she asks but I couldn't really hear her. My ear starts to ring. My vision, adjusting. I flick my eyes from the one behind the counter, and the one in front of me. He gives me a glance that gave not a single reaction, and that immediately sets me off. My disbelief was long discarded now, replaced with a disturbing chill crawling through my spine, and a blazing ripple of vexation. I push myself forward the sooner he gives the barman a look that I couldn't quite describe and they held each other's gaze for a while.
"What was that for?!" An irritant tone laced my words as I gently shoved Lucas backwards by his shoulder. Catching sight of the red handprint on his cheek, I was met with a surge of embarrassment that I instantly shoved down. He then, turned to me and the barman left with an indignant scowl.
To my annoyance, he said nothing and simply gave me a look. Standing in front of me like the tall tower that he was and staring at me in complete and utter silence. It made me feel frozen in my spot and i felt my flames, my hot red fury dissipate. I really, really hate him so much. I hate how he makes me feel.
Powerless. Like I'm not always in control and i hate it. I hate how he wears the face of a ghost and how much his presence affects me. But I am not powerless. Not now, not ever.
And in desperate attempt to establish that ground, I met his pupils dead-on. Unwavering and firm.
"I had him." I spoke, steeling my words with venom while lifting my chin up high. "I didn't need your help—I didn't need you to fucking intervene."
If he was amused with my words, he didn't show. In fact, he isn't showing anything at all. His eyes are blank, his body rigid, it almost felt like talking a block of ice. If he was expecting me to be thankful, well he isn't getting any of that. His silence starts to tick me off and I walked away before I start to feel smothered by his chilling presence. Kiera follows me from behind and I couldn't keep my annoyance at bay as I turned to her and asked, "Where the hell is Vince?"
"Somewhere, I don't know. Probably with a girl or two, you know. But are you o—"
"Get him." I cut her off abruptly. Her brows starts to knit together, desperate to know how I'm doing, I know¸ but I don't want to talk about it. And she knew better than to press me so instead, she heaves out a sigh and wheels herself away from me the same time I say, "I'll be in the restroom."
She spares me and nod and takes off in defeated silence.
Once she's out of my sight however, I stumbled my way forward, and locked myself inside of the nearest restroom I found. I let my hands rest on the sink and I looked at the reflection of myself in the mirror. I felt like throwing up.
Bending forward, I retched and retched until I could get rid of that sick, twisting feeling my gut but nothing seems to come out. I could still feel his eyes burning on my back from here. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Feeling a familiar pair of pupils watching me, observing like a venomous hawk while his ghostly lips twist and I could see the scar in his lips while he does so.
But I know it's all in my head.
And I know it's not Lucas, but the knowledge of that makes me feel sick and I once again bent forward in desperate attempt to empty the uneasy feeling in my stomach, and I stifled the urge to cry.
Leave me alone. Please.
I tell myself that in repeat, before risking another glance in the mirror and losing sight of his eyes—my ghost—in the mirror.
I wanted to fall apart right then, but I can't.
Asher does not fall apart. She is perfect. She is fire, and she engulfs everything within her arm's reach. Not the other way around. Never the other way around. But one thing I do know for sure, however, is how much I loathe that new boy. That strange, cold, empty boy with a body and face of my ghost.
I don't think I can stand to be around him at all.
Still, what he did out there, however—what does he want? And why is he literally everywhere I go? Is he messing with me? Is this how ghosts haunt a living nowadays? Inhabiting a body and letting it follow you wherever you go?
I shake my head to knock me off of my ridiculous thoughts. I sprayed water to my face, as if washing it with water also washes away the blaze that is my emotions inside of me. Touching up my make-up, I felt the door open and was met with Kiera's face and Vincent's poking out from behind her.
"You okay out there, Ash?" He asks. His tone drawling for a bit and I'm left to wonder how much of a drink has this guy already had? He does seem sober enough to drive however, so we're leaving it at that.
"I am perfectly fine, Vincent. So thanks, but no thanks for your concern," I quip, giving my reflection one last look before I fake a smile and struts myself out. Kiera gave me one sweeping look, and then she takes my arm and the three of us walked outside.
"Are you sure you're sober enough to drive?" Kiera quirks her brow from my side while Vincent gave her an are you kidding me look, as he jumps toward the driver's seat.
"When am I not sober enough to drive?"
"Remember that one time where we almost cras-"
"Shut up and get in, Kiera" He snaps and we couldn't help but break into laughter as we settle ourselves on the backseat. Vincent gave me a look from the rear view mirror, his brows knitting for a bit while he asks, "I heard that guy assaulted you."
"Assault is such a strong word, Vincent. Don't be dramatic."
But he's right.
"I told Kiera I could at least land one single punch on his pretty face but she said no," With that, he seemed genuinely pissed and I couldn't help but grin at the protectiveness he's showing.
"Ash said she wanted to go home, and I don't think causing a ruckus would land us home any faster" Kiera argues while Vincent starts up the engine and simply shakes his head.
"Still—I think one punch wouldn't be that big of a deal"
"You just want an excuse to punch someone, Vince."
"I do not!"
"Does so!"
"Would you both shut up?" I snap. Making them both look at my direction while I faked an eye roll and hid the appreciative smile in my lips. They made faces to each other but maintained silence and I smiled to myself. Thinking there's no other place I would rather be right now, than here.
