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I roll my eyes when I see that the two guys I left brawling at the pool table are still going at it.
It isn’t their fault really.
They are slaves to their own impulses. A fact I knew all too well when I agreed to dance with one and grab a drink with the other. I thought it would make me feel better to see two strangers fight for my attention, but all it did was add to the gaping hole of emptiness in my chest.
Nothing.
That’s what I feel most of the time.
Absolutely nothing.
I take a sip of my drink and turn once more to the jukebox, my eyes trailing over each song, and then I realize that none of them really call out to me.
“Fuck,” I growl, kicking the damn thing and adding it to the long list of disappointments tonight.
I walk over to a hidden booth and slide in, sulking at what appears to be another wasted night. These are the times when I actually envy my sister. Layla has never asked for much, and yet she has it all.
The devoted husband.
The two cute as hell kids.
The big house in the swanky part of the city.
She has all the love and security she could have ever dreamed of, and sometimes I find myself wishing I were more like her in that way. That my happiness could be so easily achieved.
But the white picket fence life was never for me.
I crave something else. I just wish I knew what.
These are the thoughts that tumble through my mind as a cold hand starts running down my spine, causing goosebumps to erupt all over my skin. I look up from my glass and scour the bar, wondering what could have possibly brought on the sensation. The one that is only brought on by darkness and death.
That’s when I see him walk through the door.
My eyes never leave him as he strides into the bar with a purpose no one who comes to places like this should have. In a black hoodie, with the hood pulled up and covering his head, it’s impossible for me to see his face, but the way his large body agilely glides through the crowd, like a ghost that no one sees, has me hypnotized. When he stops at one of the pillars in the large bar and leans against it, my breathing quickens. What could have possibly brought such a creature here in the first place? It’s like he sucks in all the light around him, becoming a shadow, much like the one I feel like I am sometimes.
Yes, places like this are known for hosting all sorts, but this man is different.
He’s not a hustler looking for a score or one of the many lowlifes that you normally find in Hell’s Kitchen. The way he carries himself tells me that much.
But he’s something akin to the darkness that dwells inside me.
I can taste it on the tip of my tongue, even though he’s a good ten feet away from me.
My heart pounds in my chest so loudly that it causes all the other noises surrounding me to lessen to a faint hum of my heartbeat.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
With each beat, I observe him, taking in every small movement. My breathing stops as his full, pouty lips lift just a fraction of an inch at the corners in a threatening smile when he sees whatever he’s been looking for. Another cold shiver runs down my back, knowing full well that when a man like this one smiles, it’s for all the wrong reasons.
Just like the ghost he is, his fluid moves are too quick for me to track as he effortlessly treads through the large crowd of people, vanishing from my view in a matter of seconds.
“Shit,” I blurt, lifting from my seat in pursuit of the only thing that has been remotely exciting for me all night.
Or for a long time, in all honesty.
