CHOICES (Completed)

CHOCOLATE SCOTT

He stands in full glory, clad in a crisp white linen shirt, dark blue denims and a black cleanly knit blazer, sleeves folded up to the elbows. He still folds his sleeves.

Of course, he does.

The fringe of hair still drops handsomely on his forehead and his eyes are still the same. Chocolate brown, deep and trouble magnet. 

I’m still not over the shock of seeing him before his eyes dart to mine and I think I spot a faint hint of surprised recognition in them.

I look away immediately. I am beyond shocked. And I have no freaking clue how to react to this.

The girl holding me has visibly loosened her hold on me and is hurriedly wiping her tears. Everyone present seems to have tensed up too.

Still has the effect, I guess.

“Everybody. Out.”

His voice is clipped, yet authoritative. His words hold the intimidation he always carries. I stand motionless, wondering if I should be happy, scared or hurt.

This is exactly what he does, I don’t even know if I want to laugh or cry, what kind of an emotional state is this?

And his rude tone. Oh, God.

Why am I not surprised? Doesn’t this guy get paid for his cold blooded-ness? Why does he have to be the self assumed and self appointed boss of everyone?

In the midst of all this, I feel a sudden urge to laugh. And it’s probably because I’m familiar with, well, this, and he still is exactly this.

I’ve been in a room with him for precisely ten seconds, maybe less, and I’m already losing it. His mere existence is a drug. Its addicting, difficult to swallow, gives you hallucinations, negative side effects and you eventually end up in rehab.

He’s still stone cold though. Some things never change, after all.

Everyone gets up to leave and I decide better than to meet his gaze. I follow suit and get up to practically run, before I have to breathe in his presence a second longer.

I cross his form, silently praying that he doesn’t recognise me. And if he does, then doesn’t make a scene out of it; and I almost succeed. Keyword being ‘almost’. Because a second after, I feel a strong grip on my arm roughly pulling me back.

He couldn’t have let it pass, could he?

“Something amusing you, Young ?” All my attempts to hold onto my calm flows away mercilessly as his hold lifts up my eyes to his. The hazel eyes I had adored once.

The fragrance hits my senses and a vague familiarity envelopes me. Expensive mint cologne. And him.

Everything comes crashing down as I gaze at those chocolate brown orbs, fighting against the warmth around my face, informing me of the blush I know must have made its way.

I can feel his arms from my hold on his rolled sleeve and a weird sensation takes over me. I hate how he affects me. How he still bloody affects me, and I can do nothing about it. The proximity brings out unwanted memories and I would have passed out by now if not for his strong hold.

I vaguely become conscious of the moisture threatening to escape my eyes. No one knows better, no one in the world, how I’ve missed all of him.

“You will answer me.”

You will answer me.