Whirlwind | W.M.

8

Some stories have a funny way of looping around.

Sometimes you make eye contact with a stranger down the street and think about how their eyes were warmer than the sun for the rest of the day. Sometimes you kiss somebody you've never met at a party and your lips burn with the ghost of how they fit for the rest of the month. Sometimes you go to dinner with an old friend and laugh so hard at all the jokes that held so many memories then you wonder why you ever drifted apart.

Some people you never see again, like the girl who sounded like an angel at a nightclub bathroom— drunkenly singing 'Fix You' or the boy who gave up his seat on the bus because you looked like you were having a bad day. Some people only brush into your life for the briefest moments, and leave a mark that'll last a lifetime and now every time you hear that one song you can picture her and her smeared makeup and dizzy smile, wondering if she's alright.

But sometimes those people come around.

Like a ghost finally stepping into light after weeks of nudging things around. You're familiar with the thought of them, a vision that lives in your head for as long as you could remember and yet when they're really right in front of you— so real and tangible, it almost feels... foreign. It feels unsettling and amazing, like the wonder of how your paths crossed once more amidst such a busy and oblivious universe was a one in a million chance.

"Estelle." I breathe out, more to myself than anyone else. My one in a million chance was right in front of me, a memory come to life— a ghost in the flesh.

"It's nice to know you remember." She smiles to herself, looking genuinely pleased as her fingertip delicately circles the rim of her glass in a thoughtful hum.

"How— why are you here?" It slips out in a messy stammer, like all my thoughts were fighting for release at once. Estelle only smiles, her dark red lips tugged into a smirk as she settles her eyes on me— oh how one look could evoke so many emotions.

"I see you are still full of questions. I've missed you, come dance with me." Her hands trail down my arms, torturously slow and gentle all at once as her fingers stop at my own, intertwining them as she tugs me to the center of the room where a few people have gone to sway along to the music.

Like a switch has been flipped— I follow her lead. Mesmerized and rendered powerless under her aura, I find my arms snaked around her waist. Her fingers meet to clasp behind my neck, perfectly manicured nails lightly scratching my nape in the process as she keeps me at a length good enough for her eyes to completely go over me, taking apart every inch of me without ever moving a muscle.

"How did you find me?" I manage to push out as she sways us to the rhythm, the pad of her thumb pressing soft circles against my skin as she hums.

"You're very magnetic, Lexa Kovacs. Didn't I tell you the world is smaller than you think? Maybe this is— how do they say, fate? Is it?" She replies calmly, her eyes never leaving mine in the process as her piercing gaze cements me in place.

It was frustrating to be so helpless— to be stuck in a trance under her gaze. She knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say like she's got a map of my entirety and was just toying with the buttons. Estelle shined with passion, elegance, the kind that could stop the world from turning and still a full room the moment she saunters in. I felt like a child, like a crush ridden school girl trembling under her touch. It was repulsive and amazing all at once, though i'm still not entirely sure how that could be.

"Why are you here? Do you know Tony?" I whisper and she giggles at my words, her laugh sounding smoother than any music that would ever grace my ears as she pulls me in, so close that our noses brush with every step.