Truth or Dare

Part 1

"This is perfect, just perfect!" You throw your hands up out of frustration. Ghost stands in front of you, arms crossed over his chest and his body blocking the doorway of your penthouse. "You can whine all you want, Y/n, but you're not going anywhere." His eyes glare down at you, "I was given a job and I'm going to do it right. Get comfortable." You roll your eyes, quietly scoffing as you drag your feet over to the couch and plop down.

Ghost watches you with a straight face under his mask, maintaining his firm stance in front of the door. "I'm too old for this shit," you complain, bringing your knees to your chest. Your father who's away on a business trip hired Ghost as punishment to keep you inside. You stole money from your wealthy father's safe thinking he wouldn't notice with all of the cash already inside. That's where you were wrong. Your father is a meticulous man, how else could he have gotten all the money he has?

"You're also old enough to know you shouldn't take money from daddy's safe," Ghost bites back, his voice gruff and monotoned. "Yeah? What do you know? I needed the money that he never paid me for helping him with his side gigs." You stretched the truth, deep down feeling embarrassed about getting caught. You're a fiery spirit, no doubt, but you can still reflect on your actions, even if you didn't admit it. You know what you did was morally wrong.

Ghost shifts his weight, "Whatever the reason, Y/n, you shouldn't be stealing from your father." You roll your eyes, you know he's right. You're old enough to know he's right. You're 23, still living at home only because you can't afford to make it on your own right now being in between jobs. Your dad wasn't going to give you handouts despite what the majority would think. He makes sure you have food, water, shelter, and bought you a car for your eighteenth birthday, but that's as far as it goes. As long as you're under your father's roof though, what he says, goes. You couldn't wait to be out of that house.

You hug your knees, looking off to the side, unable to retort because you know he's not wrong. "Why don't you do something in the meantime? It's not like you can't do anything at all," Ghost suggests, "Unless you want to just mope around all night, be my guest. Just do it in your room." You side eye him, annoyed at everyone and everything right now. "Watch a movie or something, I don't know and I don't care. I'm not listening to you whine all night, that's for sure." Ghost was a perfect fit for this job, taking no bullshit.

You dramatically sigh, standing up to go the kitchen and grab a glass of water. Ghost watches you as you do so, eyes drifting up your form. You're wearing a tank top and sweatshorts, it's hard to not imagine what you look like underneath. Your hips sway as you walk, hair falling perfectly over your shoulders. He clears his throat, looking away for his own good. He's here for a job and nothing else.

"Do you need anything to drink? You want some water?" You hold a glass in your hand, raising it up in Ghost's direction. At first he was going to decline until his mouth got dry from looking at you a little too long. "I'll have a glass of water, sure." He unhurriedly makes his way over to the kitchen island that you set the glass of water on. "Thank you," Ghost lifts up his balaclava and takes a sip.

You can't help but steal a glance at his chiseled jawline and small scar on his upper lip. You always wondered what he really looked like under the mask. His jacket is rolled up his muscular arm just enough to see the start of his sleeve tattoo. He catches you staring, "You got a staring problem?" Your eyes widen, cheeks getting hot, quickly turning back towards your own glass of water, "No."

Ghost puts his mask back down, "Just thought I'd make sure." Your eyes are now focused on anything but him standing there. The silence is awkward, he's not used to you being so quiet, even just for a moment. Ghost has known your father for a couple years now through mutual military affiliation. He's heard all about your dad's "troubled daughter" who has an attitude problem, if it wasn't obvious.

Yet here you were, quiet as a mouse as Ghost stands across the counter from you. It was definitely peculiar. "So, really, Y/n, are you just going to stand here all night?" Ghost watches you intently as your mind works tirelessly to distract yourself from the new thoughts you were having. You look at Ghost, breaking your blank stare into oblivion, "Can we play a game?"