Survive the Night (ON HOLD)

Four | Oliver

Oliver eyed the girl pulling his pint.

About twenty five. Dark, shiny chocolate brown hair. Striking blue eyes.

Her low-cut shirt was tight against her breasts, and her pale skin looked as soft as silk.

Oliver bit his lip as he made eye contact with the bargirl.

"And who might you be?" she asked, her oceanic eyes twinkling in the dim pub lighting.

As she placed the pint onto the bar, Oliver tilted his head.

"Why don't you tell me who you are first?"

The girl raised her eyebrows. "You're from England, are ya?"

Oliver smirked. "What gave it away? Definitely not the strong London accent."

"Rosie."

"Oliver. Lovely to meet you, dear."

Rosie laughed, showing Oliver a set of shining, straight teeth. She was beautiful.

Come to us.

Oliver's body tensed as the voice floated through his brain.

It had followed him.

"I get off in an hour," she said, a look of devilment on her features. "How about you call me dear when we go to the other pub across the road and you buy me a drink?"

"I don't see a problem with that," Oliver smiled, trying to conjure as much mirth into features at he could, brushing the voices away.

On the outside, he seemed cool and collected, but beneath his skin, the steady beat of his heart quickened.

Two hours later, Rosie and Oliver were three pints deep into a very flirtatious conversation, the drink helping Oliver forget that his infestation had come overseas with him.

"So, tell me why you're in Ireland," Rosie insisted.

Her red lipstick was smudged around the edges, showing the true pink colour of her lips beneath. Her hair was dishevelled and her eyes were glazed with drunken desire, but now Oliver found her even more irresistible.

"What if I told you that I couldn't tell you?"

Rosie incredulously raised an eyebrow. "What if I told you that you could tell me anything?"

Oliver laughed at the twinkle in Rosie's eyes. The naive look that told him she thought that something was going to come from their interaction. 

Silly girl.

Despite his attraction towards her, he knew that Rosie was merely his latest plaything. Something that would be discarded to one side when he was moving onto his new destination.

Because Oliver, even though he felt guilt eating away at him for doing horrid things like this, just couldn't stay in the same place for long.

He was always on the go. Always trying to outrun the thing that seemed to be catching up to him at an alarming pace.

His secret made it impossible for him to settle anywhere because even he didn't understand what his secret actually was.

"Well?"

Oliver hadn't noticed that he was staring blankly into Rosie's eyes, lost deep in thought.

He shook his head and crinkled his forehead, feigning a look of confusion.

"Sorry," he said. "I don't know what just happened. I think I might need some air."

Rosie reached over and put a delicate hand onto his denim covered leg. "It's okay, I get it."