Different.

Chapter 4: An Invitation

Chapter 4

An invitation

I whipped my head around, green eyes wide with terror, and when I saw who the strange voice belonged to, my heart sunk even further, all the way to the worn soles of my converse.

He was taller and burlier up close, and I could even the catch a whiff of the musty scent that wafted off of his dark, thick clothing.

But more importantly...he was real.

It wasn't a dream.

It wasn't something I had made up. It wasn't all a figment of my imagination. All of it. The colorful forest. The bone chilling chase. And finally, whatever had happened in that stream, was one hundred percent real.

I think I'd preferred to be crazy or hallucinating.

It felt like my world was twisted sideways and I still had no answers as to why, how, or what that day was even all about. Yet there he was, standing before me, no longer just a memory that made me second guess my sanity. The mysterious stranger who I'd drawn in a frantic haze last night, leaning casually against the brick wall of an old crumbling school building like it was just a nice calm sunday afternoon.

As he picked at his nails with an air of haughtiness, I studied him thoughtfully, comparing him as he was before me, to my drawing interpretation of him. And I had to say, there was something about his demeanor that I had captured perfectly in the hasty sketch. Strong, courageous, and a bit overconfident.

He reminded me much of a panther. Something about the lean to his hips, his huge, muscular arms and legs, dark, feline face, and intense golden eyes made me assume no one would even think twice about getting into a fight with him if they ran into him on the street.

His lips formed into a smirk again, and I was so busy taking in his appearance I almost missed what he'd smugly said as he glanced up from his hands.

"I know I'm nice to look at, but I figured even someone like you would know better than to stare."

My head snapped back, and my look of pure bewilderment melted into a scowl.

What the hell does that mean, 'someone like me'? And where do you get off talking to me like that? I felt like asking, and opened my mouth to do so, but the words got caught somewhere in between my mind and my lips, and I was left standing there like a child with that idiotic scowl on my face, my mouth gaping open like I was trying to catch flies.

He laughed a quick, almost bitter laugh, and my face reddened. Partially because of my growing anger, but mostly in embarrassment.

I closed my mouth, trying to salvage whatever dignity I had left, but I could tell from the way he looked down at me, he thought I was a complete numbskull.

"What is it, little girl? Cat got your tongue?" He sneered, bending down and putting his hands on his knees so he was at eye level with me.

He was even more intimidating up close.

I ignored the sudden terrified thump of my heart and held my ground as firmly as possible, trying to stifle my fear.

Somehow, words found their own way out of my mouth.

"I wouldn't be going around talking to me so condescendingly if I were you, you pretentious bastard," I spat at him. "because just the other day you were knocked flat on your ass by a fucking pebble that I threw at you."

...Alright, alright. So maybe I didn't technically throw it, and sure, it wasn't exactly a pebble. But I was trying to throw up a façade of confidence, since what other option did I have? Obviously I couldn't try to seem tough, I was a foot shorter than him and he was clearly a lot stronger. I had a feeling playing the innocent oblivious child wouldn't get me too far in this scenario, it would probably just stroke his ego some more. Which was the LAST thing I intended to do.