The Outsider

5. An Encounter In Hell (Part One)

5. An Encounter In Hell (Part One)

"Look on the bright side, if you do date him, every time you say, 'God, I wish I were dead,' it might come true!" James joked, pushing me slightly as I tried to get my shoe on before flinging himself upside down on the couch.

Our first day of university went by extremely quickly. Mainly, because we each only had two short classes. No matter the reason, though, we were back in our tiny apartment and I was getting ready to head out to my job in retail.

I had been lucky enough to get the job almost as soon as we had moved into the area.

Lucky in the sense that I got paid for it. It's not that the job was horrible, but there was one specific person that made it hell.

Still, it paid.

Not enough.

I definitely needed another job.

Or two.

"Oh, ha-ha," I mumbled, finishing tying my shoe and leaning back on the lounge. "You're just jealous."

"Of what exactly? You haven't had sex with him. Or spoken to him. I'm not even sure he's looked at you yet. Plus, he isn't my type, so even if you'd done any of those..."

"He looked at me. Once. In the hall. Maybe," I muttered, trying to think if I had any contact with the mystery guy throughout the day.

I had only been at the campus for a four-hours before I left to come back to the apartment. Most of that time was spent in classes, so I didn't get a chance to find out more about the guy I had found myself attracted to.

I wasn't even sure why I was attracted to him. Usually, I found myself drawn more toward the less dangerous types. The more shy and reserved type of guys, who wouldn't even hurt a fly.

Yes, he was attractive, but so were a bunch of other guys at university. And none of them had apparently killed anyone... that I knew of.

So, why this guy?

Was it the tattoos?

It could be the tattoos.

"You're one to talk, though," I continued, getting up from the lounge and moving to the small kitchen counter where I had put my wallet and keys. "I don't see you pulling anyone, huh? What even is your type?"

"Usually, they have boobs," James stated with a smile, kicking his legs in the air as his head dangled over the edge of the lounge.

"Usually?"

"Look, I know it's no use trying to talk any sense into you," James said, ignoring me. "But I thought I would say this, so I don't say, 'I told you so,' at your funeral. Stay away from the criminal."

"You don't even know that he's a criminal," I defended, having no idea why I was defending the stranger.

I had no idea who he was or what he was capable of. I was all for not judging a book by its cover, but maybe I should be. The feeling in my stomach was telling me I was doing the right thing by standing up for this guy. Though, the logical part of my brain was telling me I should listen to other people for once.

I couldn't deny, even if this mystery guy had indeed killed his father, I was intrigued by him. Everything about him seemed to draw me in and there was only so much will power I had to stop me from doing something stupid.

Such as attempting to talk to him.

Or more.

All of these feelings had come from one glance at him. Was it the thought of the challenge that was driving my mind to think about him? Or was I simply lusting over him?