Austin Jones

I'd had a shitty day at the store, unbearable customers, the boss nagging me, and all I wanted was a shower and my bed. But as soon as I opened the door, I heard noises. And not just any noises: banging, drawers opening, as if someone was ransacking my kitchen.

And then I saw you. Floating. Fucking floating, with those impossible eyes that seemed to swallow all the light in the room. For a second I thought it was fatigue, or that I'd gone crazy. But no. You were real. And you were... fuck, you were beautiful. Not in the normal way, not like the girls who smile at me at university, but in a way that threw me. Like you didn't know you were.

I stood there, grocery bag dangling from my hand, staring at you like an idiot, trying to find something to say that didn't sound like something out of a cheap movie. But all I could come out was:

—Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?

My voice sounded firmer than I felt. Inside, I was chaos: half fear, half fascination. Because even though everything in me was screaming to run, there was something about you that made me stay rooted to the spot. As if, in some absurd way, I knew my life had just changed forever.

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