The Stare

Chapter 12: Late-Night Soiree

~Kiara~

Claire dramatically framed the doorway, her eyes shooting icy glares that could freeze a volcano. Gray, usually Mr. Cool, squirmed in his seat, clearly not enjoying the heat of Claire's fiery gaze.

As I observed this unfolding melodrama, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement mingled with a dash of concern. Claire had always been a powerhouse, and the tension between them crackled like a live wire.

Without breaking eye contact with Gray, Claire crossed her arms with the precision of a fencing champion. Her voice, dripping with frostiness, cut through the room's tension like a chainsaw through butter. "Well, well, well. Look who graced us with his presence—Gray, of all people."

Gray coughed nervously, his usual suaveness suddenly on vacation. "Claire, it's been a while. How have you been?"

Claire's lips curled into a wry smile that could rival the Mona Lisa's. "Oh, just fabulous, Gray. Living my best life, you know, minus the Gray-shaped hole in it."

As the room's atmosphere grew thicker than a suspenseful thriller, I decided to stir the cauldron a bit. "So, Claire," I said with faux innocence, "Gray here seems to have made quite an impression on you. How did you two become reacquainted?"

Claire's gaze could now freeze the sun itself. "Welp, as I mentioned earlier, he's my personal magician—disappears after a one-night stand."

"Small dick and big charm guy, got it," I chimed in with a mischievous grin, unable to resist adding to the awkwardness of the situation.

"Yes, that guy," Claire replied, her savage honesty cutting through the tension like a knife. The room fell silent, save for the palpable discomfort that hung in the air like a heavy fog. 

Gray might have thought Claire was just a blip on his radar, but she had upgraded him to a full-blown hurricane, and he was still picking up the pieces.

To him, Claire might have been just a casual fling; for her, he might have been "The Guy," the one she had hopes and dreams for. But when he ghosted her, it had left her dealing with a broken heart and the five stages of grief.

As I observed Claire's stoic demeanor, her introverted exterior concealing a storm of emotions within, it served as a reminder that we never truly know what someone's been through, even in the office, where watercooler gossip flows like a never-ending stream.

Gray, to his credit, appeared to realize the gravity of the situation. His eyes were marinating in guilt as he faced the repercussions of his Houdini act.

Claire's voice, though still laced with ice, held a hint of vulnerability as she continued, "You might think it was just a one-night stand, Gray, but it was more to me. It's taken time, but I've moved on."

Gray, his usual charm replaced by guilt, finally spoke up. "Claire, I'm so sorry for how I handled things back then. It was immature and wrong. Can we talk?"

Claire, with the finality of a judge passing a life sentence, delivered her verdict. "Nah, I'm done."

Sensing that a volcano about to erupt needed space, I gracefully excused myself. "I'll leave you two to your emotional rollercoaster," I quipped, making my exit. "Take all the time you need."

***

I found myself at the bar, fingers tracing the rim of a neon-colored cocktail glass as I kept an eye on Claire. Her words lingered in the air, and I couldn't help but sympathize with her frustration. Gray's actions had undoubtedly soured her mood, and Claire had no intention of accepting his apologies, not now, not ever.