It was him.
The same boy I met in the morning—the one who grabbed my hand and called me his boyfriend like it was a reflex.
He just stood there.
Still. Quiet. Like a bronze statue wrapped in a hoodie and sweatpants.
Our hands were still touching.
My eyes scanned him—up, down, trying to decode his expression. Why was he here? What did he want?
Then he blinked, seemed to realize the contact between us, and quickly pulled his hand away, turning to look at the counter like he suddenly cared about gum prices.
"Uhmm."
The cashier's voice startled us both.
We snapped back into the present.
"I just..."
Jake finally spoke, but it was barely a sentence. Mumbled, broken, like he hadn't meant to speak at all.
I took a slow step back—gave him space to breathe, to figure out what the hell he was doing here.
Without another word, Jake leaned over my basket, grabbed something, and bolted out of the store like he was late for a train that didn't exist.
I stared after him, stunned.
What the hell just happened?
I stepped up to the counter and sifted through my stuff, scanning for what he'd taken. Everything seemed untouched.
"That man left something earlier," the cashier said, barely looking up. "Maybe he came back to get it."
Maybe.
Or maybe Jake was just one long, chaotic event I didn't sign up for.
I paid and walked out, my mind still spinning with questions I had no business asking.
After a few minutes of walking, I finally made it home.
I unpacked my things, changed into my comfy clothes, and collapsed onto the couch with the leftover pizza. I started scrolling through Netflix, looking for something that didn't involve heartbreak or emotional damage.
That's when my eyes started getting blurry. The day was catching up to me.
After finishing the last slice, I dragged myself to the bedroom and flopped onto the bed like I'd just completed a marathon. My brain, however, refused to shut up.
Tomorrow was going to be different.
New office. New team. New environment.
But this time, I wasn't just a regular employee. I had an important position. Actual responsibilities. A title.
I was mentally preparing myself for it all—until an image popped into my head.
Him.
The boy I met twice today.
Seriously, what were the odds? The one person I thought I'd never see again... shows up again within hours.
But everything's fine.
Totally normal. Except—
Why the hell did he run out of the store like that?
Was it me?
Did I look that bad?
Wait—what if it wasn't me at all?
What if there's a ghost attached to me and he could see it?!
The thought sent a chill down my spine. Literally.
I brushed my shoulder off dramatically, just in case the ghost was still hanging out.
Then I yanked the blanket over my head like a five-year-old and whispered to myself,
"Ghosts can't get you if you're under the blanket. That's a rule."
Final decision of the night:
I'm never seeing that boy again. Ever.
For the sake of my sanity. And ghost-free living.