Forgotten Promises

01 - t h e n

Aubrey

I can't help but envision his skull underneath my boot being crushed to dust with the most satisfying cracking sounds, blood pooling beautifully in all it's crimson glory around it.

I had no idea I could harbor such feelings of hatred for another human being. Turns out, I can. For a specific human named Luca Morris.

When I walked into this record store, I had every intention of walking out with at least one record that I liked that was worthy of my money. It was supposed to be just a normal Tuesday night, with the moon out and casting a lovely glow over the city, the stars blinking down at me from the mystical dark night sky. A normal Tuesday night when I'd decided to go out for a stroll in the crisp autumn air when I'd come across the most captivating record store ever. I was unaware it'd also be a Tuesday night on which I'd be hindered and interrupted by a familiar looking six foot tall guy with the softest looking blue eyes in the middle of my hunt.

“I touched it first.” His low voice and commanding tone has one of my eyebrows arching.

In this moment, I decide I hate his guts and the arrogance that seems to roll off him. The way his curly hair falls over an area of his forehead, the perfect, plush lips he has, and his defined jawline. I decide I hate it all.

“Too bad. Because I looked at it first.” I give him my fake sweet smile.

His tongue pokes his cheek from the inside and I notice him suppress his lips from tugging up. In the next second, he reaches out in the speed of lightning and before I'm able to realize and comprehend, he has the record in his hand. My record in his hand.

I attempt to snatch it back from him, because it was mine in the first place.

I want to wipe the smirk that forms on his lips right off.

“I'm planning on listening to that, and I may even purchase it,” I fold my arms over my chest.

“Oh, are you one of those people who judge things by their covers and all?” He accuses.

I almost gasp. The audacity. I am everything, and I mean everything, but I can never be judgemental. Ever.

“No, you dipshit. This happens to be a song from my favourite artist.”

He nods unbelievingly. I hate his smug ass.

I sigh, “Listen, Mr..”

“Luc—”

“Yeah, no, I don't really care what your name is. That is my record, and I'm going to ask you civilly to give it back to me.”

He tilts his head slightly to the side, “Tough luck, Aubrey Kameron. Especially when I've got blackmail material on you.”

Confusion paints my face, both at him knowing my name somehow, and at what he just said to me. Despite not finding anything after mentally scanning my brain for shit I've done, I try to play it off smartly.

“Blackmail material, you say, huh?” I ask and he nods confidently, “I'm a hundred and ten percent sure you're bluffing.”

He holds up a finger, indicating for me to wait. I scoff inwardly, drumming my fingers on my bicep. From one of his pockets on his jeans, he whips out his cell phone, unlocks it. I watch him as he taps a few times, until he turns it so that the screen faces me. I shift my gaze down from his face to the phone.

The obnoxious sight has me horrified.

My eyes snap back up to his, alarmed, “You wouldn't.”

“You don't know that for sure.” He presses the power button, and the screen turns off and locks with a click sound.