Anger. Guilt. Vengeance.
Those are the only emotions I have felt all these years.
Everyday is a battle to keep myself from losing a piece of me...what's left of me, anyway.
One moment, eleven years ago, is all it took.
They should have killed me w...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
She knows I am watching.
I conceal the smile threatening to break out on my lips by taking a sip of my now warm vodka cranberry, the ice having been melted long ago. For such an exclusive and fancy club, the drinks were reasonably priced and of much better quality than I expected.
Although the watered down drink has me wishing I didn't order it in the first place.
My eyes follow her every movement, the way she moves behind the bar so effortlessly, pouring drinks in crystal tumblers and sliding them across the counters into waiting hands.
She pauses in between for a fleeting second, her head moving to do a quick sweep of the place–no doubt to look for me and her face scrunches up in disdain, her lips moving and then back to work.
The club is overflooded with people, yet my eyes refuse to stray away from her.
It's been three years–seven, if you count it since the first day I saw her. There's something which pulls me to her against my better judgement.
I see her in passing every now and then at Nox, or maybe that's the sole reason I'm here all the time. I won't be surprised if the staff knows me by name now. Either way, that's not my concern.
I'm like an addict for a fix when it comes to her. Watching her relieves that itch in the back of my mind, though she's the only one consuming it whole.
It's damn near dumbfounding and very much frustrating how in almost seven years of running around in the same circle, I haven't had a chance to talk to her.
Completely my fault, I'm man enough to admit that.
I've to bid my time carefully. Our meeting can't be too soon or too late.
Brianna Martinez has always been a mystery to me–one I can't quite bring myself to unravel even after all these years.
Clubbing and getting shitfaced drunk has never been my scene. I wonder what it is about her that has me frequenting Nox more often than what can be considered healthy, or acceptable for that matter.
"You're staring again, bro," Axel amuses and I promptly tear my gaze from my object of intrigue.
I find my cousin grinning at me. I raise an eyebrow as if to say 'and-what-about-it?' and take another sip of my drink.
"Feeling a little attention deprived now, are we?"
He rolls his blue eyes, shoving at my shoulder. "You know what I mean, asshole. How long are you going to continue this weird only-gonna-stare-at-her thing, before you finally grow the balls to talk to her?"
"You wouldn't understand even if I tried, so leave it alone, yeah?"
"No, seriously, what is it? I want to check out some new places. If it's about getting laid, just find anyone and blow off some steam or go up to her, talk and get it out of your system for fuck's sake. I am tired of coming here," he whines and I resist the urge to punch him in the face.
