Page 2
Story: The Unseen
Looking around the café, everyone has mostly gone about their day. They’re sipping on their drinks, pulling on their jackets, like they hadn’t just witnessed something so life-altering.
People are genuinely nice to each other.
This isn’t something out of a cheesy movie. People genuinely don’t go round starting fights with people and screaming in their faces for perceived slights and minor altercations.
I stumble back into a free chair against the wall and I watch Olivia settle into the worn armchair by the window. She pulls out a book, dabbing herself a few more times with some napkins Jenny brings over.
I decide there and then I have to talk to her. She’s squinting a little, blinded by the light shining through the window, but she looks happy. I have to know how she does it. I have to find out if it’s real or not. Maybe she’s masking her anger and she’ll go home and stuff pins into a doll with Jenny’s face on it. My gut tells me no. My gut tells me she might be a genuinely kind person.
The video that had popped up on my suggested feed this morning had been on mindfulness. And I won’t lie, the only reason I clicked on it was because it showed the most beautiful girl sitting cross legged, barefoot on a brightly colored yoga mat. As I watched her complete the video, I scoffed at the notion of tricking your mind into calming down. Following none of her instructions I watched as her breasts heaved as she took deep breaths in and out.
Her warm smile at the end of the video left me with a strange tingling in my chest that seems to travel around my body. Despite only watching, I had felt calmer. My shoulders had relaxed, which was a feat given that I haven’t felt a sense of peace in years. I frown as I touch my bruised cheek, before attempting to shake off the pain that was seeping in now that I was due some more painkillers.
“Austin, coffee.” The barrister calls out.
Olivia’s head whips up from her book and her eyes widen, a small squeak escaping her parted lips as her eyes meet mine. I frown as fear flashes across her face. She looks like sheknows me. But I’d only just watched her video this morning, so there’s no way. I’m only certain because I wouldn’t forget her face. It’s too perfect, too pretty. She looks like she’s got one of those filters on her face, but in real life. It would be annoying if she wasn’t so lovely.
But her serene self is gone as she quickly dips her head back into her book holding it so close to her face it looks like she’s trying to hide.
I grab my coffee, trying out a small smile to the barrister that didn’t bare any teeth. She smiles back and a warmth floods my chest.
I turn around to make good on the promise I made to introduce myself but the armchair is empty. The ding of the bell rings through the juice bar. She’s gone.
Chapter One
Austin
It's ironic, really. None of the crazy shit that I've done in my life has prepared me for this moment. In my arrogance—or perhaps naivety—I don't see this coming. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The day starts like many life-changing days: a little off. I wake up as furious as I was yesterday and the day before that, if I'm being honest. And as if trying to mock my internal struggle, Seattle blazes with a burst of glorious sunshine so unfamiliar to the typical cloud coverage that it just pisses me off even more. Truthfully, I could do with a gray day and a light drizzle that clings to my clothes for hours, but the universe chooses otherwise. For many, it would be a lucky day. However, my foul mood singes, seeping through my fingertips, so everything I touch bears the brunt of my frustration. The stomach acid burning its way up my throat for the last few days has been attempting to spray out like venom, and I know just the person I want to aim at.
But then, like a cruel trick, I realize why the sun has been shining, the universe’s pathetic fallacy incarnate. Olivia Daniels sways over to me, smiling—no,beamingdown at me—as I dribble god-awful coffee from my gaping mouth. Not the image I want her to keep. As I dab the coffee stain on my shirt, the girl I’ve been watching for two long, long years asks me for help, and of course, I don’t suspect her.
This must be why the sun is shining.The universe is providing me with a perfect backdrop for my fantasy comingto life. One door closes, and another one opens, if you believe in that kind of thing.
So now that I’m handed a cloth with the sickly, sweet smell of chloroform and instructed to hold it to my mouth, I pause and wonder how I could have been so stupid.
You know those docuseries that women seem to be fascinated with? The ones with the serial killers? And despite women being their primary victims, they can’t seem to stop watching with some morbid fascination. They’re the shows that are as much a warning as they are informative.
Watch out, these bad men will get you, and you’ll let them. Because before you know you’re in any real danger, it’ll be too late. You’re trapped, caught,snared.
This is that moment.
Except, I’m not a damsel in distress. I am a six-foot-four man, lift weights four times a week, and have the muscle memory of a man who used to do terrible things. The onus onused to do terrible things.I’m a good boy now. And being good when you’re so used to being bad is tricky. If you start letting the bad in certain aspects of your life, it becomes very easy to justify it in others. So, despite being a good-looking boy, I’ve never made a move on Olivia Daniels. Although, even if I had, it wouldn’t have worked on this goddess. Up until her swaying hips this morning, she’s been completely uninterested in the likes of me.
Again, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m still confused about how I’m in this situation. Still unsure of what it is I’m doing here. All I can think is: do you know what doesn’t happen to six-foot-four ex-Enforcers? They don’t get Ted Bundy’d. They don’t get outmaneuvered by women in crop tops and matching leggings with a fake sling.
There’s no warning for men. No warning against sweet eyes and full hips. The worst we could come to expect is a honey trap and subsequently lighter wallet. The former is not an issue for me, as good boys always wrap up. And despite what you may have heard about me, I’ve always been good inthat regard. I’ve been out of the game for a few years with help from TV personality and therapist, Dr. Angel, real name Alfie Adams. He’s helped me overcome a lifetime of bad behavior inherited from my father. Anyone else part of the Shit Dad Club? We’ve had a lot to unpack. Of course, given his celebrity status and all-round panty-melting charm, you’d wonder how he got involved with the likes of me. But don’t worry, we’ll get to that.
For now, I really must focus on Olivia. She is attempting to chloroform me, after all. Dr. Alfie has heard of her. Hell, we’ve talked for hours about her to the point he’s remarked on my unhealthy obsession. When I tell him about this, I’m sure he’ll think I’ve had a complete breakdown of reality. Dr. Alfie thinks I put her on a pedestal, and perhaps he’s right. I’ve never believed that my future held a conversation with her. She’s too good, too pure. And yet, it seems even in my wildest dreams, I didn’t imagine her being bad. How the tables have turned, sweet Olivia.
Despite the buzz of excitement I feel at being the focus of her attention, it does leave me in somewhat of a predicament. My first problem is a five-foot-six, blonde-haired pocket rocket who has successfully duped me into helping her to her car with the use of a fake sling and the promise of another smile that she’s denied me for the last few years.
Of course, I had been thinking with the wrong head, so I followed her, lapping up her attention and light giggles.
Yes, angel, find me funny.
Laugh at my jokes.
I’ll be the clown for you every day of the fucking week.
People are genuinely nice to each other.
This isn’t something out of a cheesy movie. People genuinely don’t go round starting fights with people and screaming in their faces for perceived slights and minor altercations.
I stumble back into a free chair against the wall and I watch Olivia settle into the worn armchair by the window. She pulls out a book, dabbing herself a few more times with some napkins Jenny brings over.
I decide there and then I have to talk to her. She’s squinting a little, blinded by the light shining through the window, but she looks happy. I have to know how she does it. I have to find out if it’s real or not. Maybe she’s masking her anger and she’ll go home and stuff pins into a doll with Jenny’s face on it. My gut tells me no. My gut tells me she might be a genuinely kind person.
The video that had popped up on my suggested feed this morning had been on mindfulness. And I won’t lie, the only reason I clicked on it was because it showed the most beautiful girl sitting cross legged, barefoot on a brightly colored yoga mat. As I watched her complete the video, I scoffed at the notion of tricking your mind into calming down. Following none of her instructions I watched as her breasts heaved as she took deep breaths in and out.
Her warm smile at the end of the video left me with a strange tingling in my chest that seems to travel around my body. Despite only watching, I had felt calmer. My shoulders had relaxed, which was a feat given that I haven’t felt a sense of peace in years. I frown as I touch my bruised cheek, before attempting to shake off the pain that was seeping in now that I was due some more painkillers.
“Austin, coffee.” The barrister calls out.
Olivia’s head whips up from her book and her eyes widen, a small squeak escaping her parted lips as her eyes meet mine. I frown as fear flashes across her face. She looks like sheknows me. But I’d only just watched her video this morning, so there’s no way. I’m only certain because I wouldn’t forget her face. It’s too perfect, too pretty. She looks like she’s got one of those filters on her face, but in real life. It would be annoying if she wasn’t so lovely.
But her serene self is gone as she quickly dips her head back into her book holding it so close to her face it looks like she’s trying to hide.
I grab my coffee, trying out a small smile to the barrister that didn’t bare any teeth. She smiles back and a warmth floods my chest.
I turn around to make good on the promise I made to introduce myself but the armchair is empty. The ding of the bell rings through the juice bar. She’s gone.
Chapter One
Austin
It's ironic, really. None of the crazy shit that I've done in my life has prepared me for this moment. In my arrogance—or perhaps naivety—I don't see this coming. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The day starts like many life-changing days: a little off. I wake up as furious as I was yesterday and the day before that, if I'm being honest. And as if trying to mock my internal struggle, Seattle blazes with a burst of glorious sunshine so unfamiliar to the typical cloud coverage that it just pisses me off even more. Truthfully, I could do with a gray day and a light drizzle that clings to my clothes for hours, but the universe chooses otherwise. For many, it would be a lucky day. However, my foul mood singes, seeping through my fingertips, so everything I touch bears the brunt of my frustration. The stomach acid burning its way up my throat for the last few days has been attempting to spray out like venom, and I know just the person I want to aim at.
But then, like a cruel trick, I realize why the sun has been shining, the universe’s pathetic fallacy incarnate. Olivia Daniels sways over to me, smiling—no,beamingdown at me—as I dribble god-awful coffee from my gaping mouth. Not the image I want her to keep. As I dab the coffee stain on my shirt, the girl I’ve been watching for two long, long years asks me for help, and of course, I don’t suspect her.
This must be why the sun is shining.The universe is providing me with a perfect backdrop for my fantasy comingto life. One door closes, and another one opens, if you believe in that kind of thing.
So now that I’m handed a cloth with the sickly, sweet smell of chloroform and instructed to hold it to my mouth, I pause and wonder how I could have been so stupid.
You know those docuseries that women seem to be fascinated with? The ones with the serial killers? And despite women being their primary victims, they can’t seem to stop watching with some morbid fascination. They’re the shows that are as much a warning as they are informative.
Watch out, these bad men will get you, and you’ll let them. Because before you know you’re in any real danger, it’ll be too late. You’re trapped, caught,snared.
This is that moment.
Except, I’m not a damsel in distress. I am a six-foot-four man, lift weights four times a week, and have the muscle memory of a man who used to do terrible things. The onus onused to do terrible things.I’m a good boy now. And being good when you’re so used to being bad is tricky. If you start letting the bad in certain aspects of your life, it becomes very easy to justify it in others. So, despite being a good-looking boy, I’ve never made a move on Olivia Daniels. Although, even if I had, it wouldn’t have worked on this goddess. Up until her swaying hips this morning, she’s been completely uninterested in the likes of me.
Again, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m still confused about how I’m in this situation. Still unsure of what it is I’m doing here. All I can think is: do you know what doesn’t happen to six-foot-four ex-Enforcers? They don’t get Ted Bundy’d. They don’t get outmaneuvered by women in crop tops and matching leggings with a fake sling.
There’s no warning for men. No warning against sweet eyes and full hips. The worst we could come to expect is a honey trap and subsequently lighter wallet. The former is not an issue for me, as good boys always wrap up. And despite what you may have heard about me, I’ve always been good inthat regard. I’ve been out of the game for a few years with help from TV personality and therapist, Dr. Angel, real name Alfie Adams. He’s helped me overcome a lifetime of bad behavior inherited from my father. Anyone else part of the Shit Dad Club? We’ve had a lot to unpack. Of course, given his celebrity status and all-round panty-melting charm, you’d wonder how he got involved with the likes of me. But don’t worry, we’ll get to that.
For now, I really must focus on Olivia. She is attempting to chloroform me, after all. Dr. Alfie has heard of her. Hell, we’ve talked for hours about her to the point he’s remarked on my unhealthy obsession. When I tell him about this, I’m sure he’ll think I’ve had a complete breakdown of reality. Dr. Alfie thinks I put her on a pedestal, and perhaps he’s right. I’ve never believed that my future held a conversation with her. She’s too good, too pure. And yet, it seems even in my wildest dreams, I didn’t imagine her being bad. How the tables have turned, sweet Olivia.
Despite the buzz of excitement I feel at being the focus of her attention, it does leave me in somewhat of a predicament. My first problem is a five-foot-six, blonde-haired pocket rocket who has successfully duped me into helping her to her car with the use of a fake sling and the promise of another smile that she’s denied me for the last few years.
Of course, I had been thinking with the wrong head, so I followed her, lapping up her attention and light giggles.
Yes, angel, find me funny.
Laugh at my jokes.
I’ll be the clown for you every day of the fucking week.
Table of Contents
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