Unspoken

Chapter Nine: Aubrey

His lips turn into a smirk, a canvas covered in dark inhalation.

    If he doesn't answer me soon, I will go climb to my wheel from the passenger side, knowing it would be easier than standing here talking to him.

    "Sit," he demands lightly. His eyes are filled with darkness, something sinister is crawling in his mind, lethal injection into my veins.

    "Excuse me?" I ask, starting to find that little bubble of anger amusing on its own. I like what it does to my quiet voice, it gives it some volume that I am too afraid to ever use.

    His large hand gestures to the empty seat across from him, it's sitting there in utter silence, begging me to run out the door.

    "Sit," he says again.

    I start to wonder if he really is this confident or if it's all just a charade.

    "Look-"

    "Aubrey," he says, cutting me off. I should be angry, I should be pushing him out of my mind, but he's infectious. I am finding his snarky attitude rather comforting, distracting me from thinking. "Sit down" he practically growls.

    My body is begging me to walk away, my mind is warning me that sitting down as he wants is more dangerous than his locked eyes, but despite all of that, my back is met with the cold iron of the chair.

    I still refuse to meet his eyes, looking at anything other than him.

    My mind is buzzing, high off of adrenaline.

I don't understand the game he wants to play, I don't understand the allure.

"I'll move my car when you manage to have a decent conversation with me," he says slowly, as if what he was thinking was obvious.

I fight the urge to slap him across his tanned skin, fight the violent thoughts arising in my mind.  I fight the goosebumps trickling along my skin along with the raindrops soaking into my thin shirt.

I stare back at him, in utter disbelief that a human like this even exists.

"I'm leaving," I say, grabbing my things back up off the table and rising to my feet. His eyes catch me in their net, though, trapping me in this limbo of uncontained territory.

"You can't, besides, what's the worst thing that could happen if you have one lousy conversation with me?"

My mind runs through all of the possibilities.

I look towards Tina, now swarmed with a rush. She's not helping me, neither is running because I know I would end up coming back anyway. The truth is that he intrigues me. I have so many questions for everyone, but I have even more for him.

They won't leave me alone, harassing me like a siren, a deadly siren that once you hear it, life seems meaningless.

I feel empty, but my mind makes me feel less alone. I suppose I should thank him for inspiring it.

My feet are relieved as my back presses back into the chair, my hair being pulled away from my face by my fingers and tucked securely behind my ears. I look up at him, his eyes noticing all of the exposed skin on my cheeks that my hair usually covers, and I find my fingers untucking those loose strands, letting them fall back to where they were.

"Why do you want to talk to me?" I ask, desperate.

He leans over across the table, his elbows pushing into the dark wood. "I can't handle rejection, it seems. And every time you ignore me-"

"You're doing this to make sure your ego is okay?" I ask, cutting him off this time. This is easily the longest conversation we've ever had and I find it strangely suffocating. Like I am in a plastic bag with a vacuum sucking the air out until the plastic is ripping apart my skin, pulling it off the bone.