"So, you skateboard, huh?" Damien asked, his eyes scanning my room, taking in the posters of skateboard legends and the worn-out skate shoes piled in the corner. I subtly kicked some dirty laundry under the bed while he was distracted.
I replied with a nonchalant "mhm," still wondering why Damien had sought me out at my home. The tension in the room was palpable, and I couldn't help but wonder about the purpose of his visit.
I finally decided to break the silence. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?" I inquired, trying to get to the point and ease the unease hanging in the air.
Damien stopped his room inspection, and with a heavy sigh, he grabbed my left hand. Startled, I paused, unsure of what he was up to. He swiftly snatched a pen from my desk and began drawing on my hand. My eyes darted between his face and my hand, my curiosity piqued.
"Your number?" I asked, feeling somewhat relieved but also puzzled by his unorthodox approach.
He nodded, his expression serious. I sighed in response, not because I was unwilling but because I realized I'd have to wash my hands soon, and Damien seemed utterly unfazed by my predicament.
"Why the long face?" he growled, seemingly impatient. "No, I have to wash my hands!" I exclaimed, frustration lacing my voice. He furrowed his brows, clearly not understanding my dilemma.
"Why couldn't you draw on the right one?" I asked my hand, half to myself and half to Damien. The left hand was the one I vowed not to wash until I got his number, but his number was on that hand, and I knew that washing off the number would be tricky for me.
He looked taken aback for a moment, but then he simply replied, "You were too slow." I groaned in response, realizing that I'd just made myself appear even more peculiar in Damien's eyes.
Desperate to change the topic and divert attention from my awkwardness, I turned around, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Is that all?" I asked, my voice a little more hesitant than usual.
Damien hesitated for a moment before finally answering, "No." The suspense hung in the air, and I had no idea what he was about to reveal or ask, but one thing was clear – Damien's visit was far from ordinary, and it held the promise of something significant.
"You're weird, you know that?" Damien said, his British accent adding a touch of intrigue to his words. I sighed, feeling a bit cornered, but I wasn't about to back down.
"Well, so are you," I retorted, not one to let his comment go unchallenged. The tension in the room seemed to grow with each passing moment.
He leaned in a bit closer, his proximity making me shiver slightly, and his intense presence almost suffocating. I could feel his breath, which was strangely disconcerting.
"How so?" he inquired, his tone more curious than confrontational.
I turned to face my window, trying to gather my thoughts. "You're really tall," I began, my voice measured, "quiet, you always look angry, and you never relax your face. You look like you're about to punch someone at any minute," I listed off each trait that had intrigued me and added to his air of enigma.
"Is that all?" Damien said, prompting me to continue. His piercing gaze felt like it was trying to see into my soul.
But I wasn't about to back down. I turned around to face him, feeling my confusion mix with a tinge of apprehension. "Your eyes are patronizing, and nobody talks back to you," I said, my voice carrying a hint of frustration. "Why?" he asked, leaning in even closer. His proximity was starting to feel overwhelming, and I found myself taking a step back.
"Because you leave no room for discussion," I replied with a hint of defiance. I wasn't accustomed to someone challenging me in this way, and it had me feeling both intrigued and unsettled.
With that, I couldn't hold back any longer. "Now, can you get the heck out?" I asked, my voice softening as I sought to end this perplexing encounter. Damien slowly backed away, his enigmatic presence fading from my immediate surroundings, leaving me with a myriad of unanswered questions and a growing sense of curiosity about the man who had abruptly entered my life.
As Damien slowly left, my heart rate began to return to its normal rhythm. I let out a long sigh of relief, feeling the weight of the strange encounter slowly lift from my shoulders. I leaned back, my fingers absentmindedly rubbing my temples in a futile attempt to massage away the tension.
"I'm not gay," I muttered, the words escaping my lips as a quiet mantra, as if I needed to reassure myself of my own identity. The encounter with Damien had been confusing, to say the least, and my mind was still spinning from the unexpected turn of events.
I flopped back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Not," I trailed off, letting the word hang in the air. My thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion, a mix of emotions and questions that I wasn't quite ready to confront. The room was filled with the echoes of that strange encounter, and I was left to ponder the meaning behind it all, as well as my own feelings and reactions in the aftermath.
-(Minji's POV: 👻)
I scrolled through the endless array of Halloween costume options online, my frustration growing. Most of them were either skimpy outfits or kids' costumes that were far from what I had in mind. I couldn't help but wonder if I was the only one committed to the idea that Halloween should be genuinely scary. It seemed like everyone was treating it as an opportunity to dress up like total sluts, and nobody seemed to mind.
With a sigh, I added a simple suit and some fake blood to my online shopping cart. That should do the trick for creating a convincing serial killer costume. As I prepared to complete the purchase, I decided to text Mia to discuss our Halloween plans.
"Got a new costume? A serial killer," I texted her, eagerly awaiting her response.
Mia replied almost immediately, and her response made me chuckle. "Ohh, American Psycho? Sexy," she said. Her enthusiasm for the costume idea was infectious.
I bit my thumb thoughtfully, contemplating our upcoming Halloween party. "Do you know any new people now coming to the party?" I texted, eager to get the inside scoop on who might be attending.
Mia replied, "No, it'll be a jump scare," accompanied by a ghost emoji. Her message gave me a mischievous smile as I turned off my phone. The anticipation for Halloween was building.
YOU ARE READING
Unlucky: Luxury And a Lies
Dla nastolatkówIt was another one of those glitzy, extravagant parties that only the super-rich kids attended. The mansion was filled with the wealthiest teenagers from around the world, each trying to outdo the other with their designer outfits, luxury cars, and...
