Dancing with Fire

Chapter Four: Her

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.