"He got those eyes, those eyes that will see right through you."
Brown eyed blues by Adrian Hood.

Enjoy!

"You smell good." A wasted asshole slurs into my ear over the loud music of Sia's Cheap Thrills, and I wince. His chest is pressed against one shoulder in an intimate way. One hand is holding a bottle of beer, and the other is holding onto my other shoulder to keep himself steady.

You smell like shit.

"Do I?" I question instead, letting a fake smirk take over my face. Masks are my profession.

"Hmm.." I feel his nose nuzzling into my neck and I decide that he went too far. I wiggle out of his hold and he stumbles, falling onto his fat ass. Well deserved, asshole.

He mutters a "bitch" before the doorman drags him away.

"Would you like anything else? " I ask a couple of girls who are apparently sharing a girls' night.

They burst into laughing, clearly drunk. "Another round of tequila, please" one of them gasps through her laughter. I roll my eyes and go back to retrieve their order.

I manage to finish my shift at NIGHTS, the bar I work at, at twelve in the morning, feeling thoroughly exhausted. It's been a ferocious night, but then again, It's not the first, and patently not the last.

I should be getting accustomed to the atmosphere at NIGHTS with the drunken jerks bouncing around, but it would be a great sacrifice. I'm not staying here for long. I will find myself a decent job with a decent salary and leave this repellent place in no time. Or that's what I convince myself of.

I inwardly groan in indignation when I open the front door of my shared apartment, for the second time today, and find Hannah laying on the couch with her eyes glued to her cell phone.

I'm beginning to hate that freaking couch.

Unlike her usual self, she doesn't look up or acknowledge me when I enter, and I come to the conclusion that she's seriously angry at me for rejecting her for another friend. Drama, something I can never condone or deal with.

This morning I swapped numbers with Melody. She sounded like a gossip girl, too chatty, the type I usually avoid, but evidently, she appealed to me after the incident with Dylan.

Dylan. His name does unrecognisable things to my scrappy mind. The way he looked at me from across the patio with that unreadable expression on his sculpted face. The memory alone gives me tingles. I know I should be worried, but surprisingly, I'm intrigued. Too intrigued to get him out of my mind.

"Hey." I throw at Hannah, slumping onto the chair facing her. The fatigue is becoming insufferable.

"Hey." She mutters back, feigning busyness. She's like an open book to read, easy to read, and unfortunately, easy to ignore.

At that thought, I feel guilty and I castigate myself. Guilt is something I can't tolerate. I've been running from it for years and tonight is so not the night to let it in.

"How was your day? " I ask her.

"Okay, but apparently yours was more interesting. " her eyes are still focused on the screen.

"Was it?" I draw in my eyebrows, feigning innocence.

"Stop it." She practically yells and my eyes widen. Her green eyes are feral, and if looks could kill, I'd be hanging from the ceiling.

"What?" My voice is very calm. I'm always calm and placid.

"Stop with the indifference act, you pretentious bitch! You walk around as if you rule the world but we both know that you're nothing. " she points her index finger at me. Her chest heaves in anger and one of her hands immediately covers her wide open mouth, realising her mistake.

I stare at her in the dimmed light, the silence prevailing and filling the room. I can hear the clock ticking.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Abruptly, I burst into laughing, gasping and writhing. It's not a fake laugh, but I can't call it a hearty one either. I'm amused, but also confused at her bluntness. She's been anything and everything but coarse and forward, and I find myself liking this side of her.

Her thin eyebrows furrow, apparently flabbergasted, then her confusion dissolves into a small smile. She shakes her head back and forth, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

I take a deep breath, overcoming my laughter. "You so did."

She lets out a nervous laugh. "Maybe I did. I'm still sorry."

I wave my hand, brushing her apology off. "Don't be. I am a pretentious bitch. Also, a sleepy one. Let's put off this conversation for now. Its past midnight and we have to wake up early, remember? " I don't comment on the rest of her outburst. I know she's right.

I am nothing, but that won't be for long.

She nods, her mind elsewhere. "You're not mad at me?" She insists.

"I'm not. Have a good night." I smile at her guilty face and leave.

Once the door is closed after me, I try. I swear I try to fight them, but they flow anyway. My tears.

*** *** ***

My alarm goes off at 6 am and I immediately dismiss it. My head is robustly pounding from last night's crying and the tiniest sound makes it throb even more as if it's being hammered. I stir and unplug my phone from the charger, going through unimportant stuff related to my social media accounts. I almost bail out on my morning run but then decide against it.

In fifteen minutes I'm on the road, running my anxiety away. Buildings flee around me as I chase my unknown rival. After minutes of battling with my demons, fogginess dominates my mind.

Mission accomplished.

My morning follows my usual routine. I know I should be sleeping more, but my crowded day doesn't allow it. I have tons of things to accomplish and I can't risk wasting time. I can't risk staying a "nothing".

By 8:45 I'm sipping a cup of coffee. Coffee isn't something that I usually go for, but it absolutely does a good job at fixing my mood.

My history class is just what I feared. Boring as scorching hell. I believe I was unconscious when I chose to take it. Thankfully, Mrs. Tucker is tolerable. Students do whatever on earth that they want and she never scolds them. What a weak woman. If I were her, I would've kicked their crude asses out.

During every single class, I find my eyes roaming around, searching for him, or them , with no fulfillment. I give up just before my literature class starts, just to find him there, sitting alone in a seat in the middle of the big room. The seat next to his is empty, tempting me to go occupy it.

I make my way to his seat, eyeing him all the way and waiting for him to look up. He does. His eyes dilate a bit, clearly up to the challenge.

Just before I take the seat on the left, I decide against it and beat my mind to the one on the right, instead. A naive move, but also a bit satisfying. I don't want him to conclude that i cowered.

I immediately regret it when i hear a low chuckle coming from him. I stifle a shiver and allow myself to take a deep breath, busying myself with my phone.

Suddenly, I hear the unmistakable screech of his chair scrabbling against the hard floor and my heart picks up speed, my anticipation going uphill. I feign nonchalance, denying the heads turning to watch him. To watch us.

I hear him moving his chair even closer, until the side of his chair nearly collides with mine. I feel him staring at me but I refuse to give him the same treatment. He's close, very close that I can feel his breath fanning across the side of my face. My high bun giving him full access to inspect every single freckle on my face. Suddenly I feel self-conscious, something that makes me more uncomfortable than ever.

He never averts his gaze and I shift uncomfortably in my chair, the hair on the back of my neck standing. I feel fragile. "I see that you've come to your senses." His voice is low and deep and I can't help it when my whole body explodes in goosebumps. He makes a tsking sound and for a moment I feel tongue-tied. I don't know what to say or do.

I weigh my options. I can leave the seat and avoid the psycho or i can feed my ego and challenge him some more. Logic is slapped across the face when i choose the latter.

"Ever heard of personal space? " is all I manage, my eyes never leaving my phone's screen. Look him in the eyes, you coward.

"Have you?" His voice feels like a bucket of ice and for a moment, I feel for him. He's unreasonable, but he lost someone he loves. I did too. Multiple times.

For me, losing someone who's been a big part of my life is like losing motivation in a long marathon. The difference between me and him, is that I always seem to find another motivation, so I did. He did not. He took the easy option. You lose your purpose and it occurs to you that you should go and act like an asshole. He is an asshole. You are too, a voice whispers deep inside my head.

I decide to face him, only to regret it. The gap between our faces is so small that i sit there, feeling awestruck. I allow my eyes to roam purposely all over his handsome face, avoiding his eyes. His brown hair is neither long nor short. His beard is freshly growing, making his chiselled jaw look even more sculpted. I decide it's inappropriate to check him out for so long and i let my eyes meet his.

Hazel. They immediately captivate me in the most beautiful way. I've always been an eye reader, but his are guarded, they show me what they want me to see. Cockiness and condescension. The challenge is glaring but i see it there, the curiosity. He is curious about me. For some reason, the thought excites me.

I don't say anything, I just keep our eye contact, forgetting that we are in a room full of students. My eyes dim a bit against my will, allowing his to dominate. Whatever he reads on my face makes his eyes dim too, and it feels like we fell in a haze.

"Have you?" His voice is now a whisper. I open my mouth to answer him, but nothing comes out.

"Get a room." I suck in a breath when I hear the voice before I notice the speaker. Standing in front of us is a tall guy with shoulder length black hair. His face wears a teasing smirk. His skin is a bit pale, allowing his green eyes to dominate his handsome face. I know him. He's one of them. The folks.

I'm awestruck and I'm deadly sure that my face is beet red. It's so unlike me. It feels like I've been caught doing something naughty. Was I?

"Trent." Dylan states, his voice sounds a bit frustrated. I don't look at him. I busy myself by searching for something mysterious in my bag.

"And you are?" Trent asks and I mentally slap myself for challenging the psycho from the first place. This is my fucking fault. Damn me and my defiance.

I clear my throat, " Candice. "

He raises his eyebrow and glances at his friend, the smirk is unmistakably there, and when I look at Dylan, I find out that the smirk is met with an angry glare. I watch their silent exchange until Trent laughs, shaking his head before slumping onto the seat next to mine.

"Candice is a nice name. Reminds me of that hot actress. Not that you're not hot too, but I like blondes." Trent's voice is playful, yet friendly.

I laugh and look at him, feeling a bit shy. "And Trent sounds like a playboy's name. A lot of authors use it. "

"I am a playboy. Eat 'em and toss 'em kinda bad boy" he winks and I laugh again. I like him.

"So proud of the fact, are we?" I raise an eyebrow while retrieving my notebook, noting that the professor has entered.

We stay like that the whole class, he making ludicrous comments and me trying to contain my laughter. What's noteworthy is that Dylan never utters a single word. I steal a glance at him and find his eyes on the lecturer, but I can tell that his mind is elsewhere. His mouth is forming a thin line, but other than that, he's impassive. I can't help but wonder, is he thinking of her?

When the class is dismissed, Trent invites me to join them- The Folks- tonight for a night out. I feel flattered for a moment and every single part of me wants to say yes, but I refuse for two reasons, it's a school night and I have work. How unfortunate.

*** *** ***

By 10 pm, my head is pounding. I gulp two aspirins to relieve my headache and resume my work. Waitressing is a tough job, but dealing with such a crowded place with all the sweaty bodies pushing against you is excruciating.

I keep moving around like a supernatural, serving and cleaning. It's exhausting, but I'm stubborn. Being a survivor has its cost.

I let every snide comment pass. People order me around and I bite my lip to refrain from snapping back. Their words should humiliate me, but they don't. I'm not the person they claim to know and i don't care about their perspectives.

"Why, hello there." I hear his voice, and all my pep talk tumbles down.

** Thanks for giving my book a chance. The reads are increasing and with every one, my heart jumps in happiness. Thanks for being the reason why.

Also, I'd love to ask y'all to read @Joujou_khazi's book "world of two". She's a talented writer. Thanks again.**