Haunted

One

"You can see me, can't you?"

A sigh nearly passes through my lips as I continue to ignore the boy beside me, but he's making it increasingly difficult. Undeterred by my lack of response, the stranger slowly inches himself closer and closer until I'm unable to focus on anything but him.

He's hoping for a reaction. I get it. But the boy better prepare himself for disappointment, because he's not going to get anything from me.

Unfortunately for yours truly, he's not aware of that yet.

The boy continues to slide towards me with his head tilted curiously, like I'm some rare undiscovered species. I hate how painfully accurate that description might be, so I force myself to focus on the bookshelf in front of me while he gawks.

Over and over again, my eyes scan the same three books.

It's impossible to concentrate with a man practically breathing down my neck, so my brain hasn't even registered the titles. But even with the lack of personal space, I somehow manage to play it cool, and the boy remains unaware that I am all too aware of his presence. Awesome.

That calmness lasts all of five seconds.

In his eagerness to be seen, the guy creeps closer as I reach for a book, and his arm nearly brushes against mine. I quickly drop my hand, my eyes narrowing reflexively while I mentally scold myself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

My lungs still as I hold my breath and reach for a different book, praying he missed my slip up.

So much for not getting a reaction out of me.

I'm usually a master at pretending to be oblivious. But I've never been a people person, and this guy is standing far too close for comfort. My anxiety only heightens when I realize I can literally feel the neutral expression slipping off my face.

Thinking fast, I rub at my nose and pretend to fight off a sneeze so I can compose myself. There's enough visible dust floating through the air to not draw suspicion, and the young man doesn't even blink. Releasing a shallow breath, I allow my hand to return to my side and settle back into an emotionless appearance.

Clearing his throat, the man finally stops his fidgeting and slowly leans his back against the wide bookshelf I've been perusing. Without taking his eyes off me, he crosses his arms over his chest like he plans on being here awhile. I don't even have to face him fully to know he's smiling. But I do have to stomp down on the temptation to smack that smug expression off his face.

His confidence is an act though. Everything about his posture might seem casual enough, but I can tell he's getting restless.

He's not the only one.

The longer he stares, the more unsettled I become. My heart starts to pound in my chest and each of my muscles tenses itself in frustration, yet I keep pulling books from the shelf, never once glancing in his direction. I refuse to give myself away, so I go on doing what I do best and pretend he doesn't exist, all while studying him from the edge of my vision.

It's hard to make out any details without calling more attention to myself, but it's easy enough to tell that the young man blends right in with the other college students in here.

Well, almost.

Dressed in the Cliffside uniform, he's wearing an untucked white button-up paired with black dress pants. A grey diamond-patterned tie hangs loosely from his collar, and with the university crest stitched into his breast pocket he should be fitting right in. Only there's one problem.