Page 15 of Ghosted

That’s why she got under my skin.

Not because she’s pretty. Pretty is common enough to be boring when there’s nothing sharp underneath it. Not because of the piercings, the lace, or the camera. Not even because she didn’t flinch.

Because she looks like she sees past the version people perform, and I don’t know what the fuck she saw in me.

I’m not sure I want to.

I’m absolutely sure I do.

Before I can answer, the air changes behind me.

I feel him before he speaks.

That’s the thing about Johnny. He has presence like smoke under a door. Quiet at first, then suddenly everywhere.

“Well,” he says, voice smooth with amusement. “Now I understand why you disappeared.”

My jaw tightens.

Alice looks past me.

Johnny steps into our little pocket of shadow with a cigarette between his fingers and that effortless smile already in place. He doesn’t look like he belongs in the warehouse; he looks like the warehouse was built because someone knew he’d need somewhere to be terrible after midnight.

He glances at me first, just long enough to make sure I know he followed me on purpose.

Then he looks at Alice.

Really looks.

My hands curl at my sides.

I hate it instantly.

The way his attention sharpens. The way his smile shifts. The way Alice, curious little nightmare that she apparently is, doesn’t look away from him either.

Johnny notices that too.

“Johnny,” he says, offering his hand like we’re at some campus party and not standing ten feet from a cage with blood drying on the floor. “Older, better-looking brother.”

Alice looks at his hand.

Then at me.

Then back to him.

Something flickers in her expression.

Amusement, maybe.

Trouble, definitely.

She takes his hand.

It lasts half a second.

Barely anything.

Still, irritation moves through me so fast it feels like impact.