Haunted
975 Words
The bell over the door jingled again.
My head snapped up so fast it made me dizzy, my eyes locking on the man stepping inside. Tall. Dark hair. Broad shoulders beneath a black jacket.
My heart stopped. Breath caught in my throat. For a split second, it felt like the air disappeared, and I was back there — pressed against the wall, his body heavy against mine, his voice in my ear, growling that I was his.
But then he turned.
Not him.
Too young. Wrong face. No gold in his eyes.
I swallowed hard, forcing my heart to slow down as I wiped my hands on my apron. My palms were damp with sweat, even though the cafe’s AC was blasting.
Luca caught my eye from across the counter and lifted a brow. I shook my head quickly, pretending like everything was fine. Like I wasn’t completely losing my mind.
The man ordered a black coffee and sat by the window. I kept my head down, pretending to tidy the pastry case even though my vision was still swimming.
The next customer was an older guy — maybe in his forties, with dark stubble and a deep voice.
When he murmured “thanks, sweetheart” as I handed him his drink, my body flinched like I’d been shocked.
Because for half a second… the way he said it — deep and rough — sounded like him.
Heat rushed through me, uninvited and sharp.
My knees went weak, a flash of memory crashing over me:
His mouth on my neck, biting hard enough to leave bruises.
His breath hot as he growled in my ear: “You’re mine now. No one else. No one ever.”
The way his hips ground against me until I shattered in his hands—
“Hey!” Luca’s voice cut through the fog, snapping me back. “Babe. Earth to you. You okay?”
I blinked, breathing hard. My cheeks were burning. “Yeah. I—yeah. Just… spaced out.”
Luca frowned. “You sure? You look like you saw a ghost.”
I forced a tight smile. “Fine. Just tired.”
But I wasn’t fine.
I was spinning.
Every time the door opened, I flinched. Every time I caught a whiff of cologne, deep and woodsy like his, my stomach twisted.
And the flashes wouldn’t stop. Every time I closed my eyes, they hit me like lightning:
His hands grabbing my wrists and pinning them above my head.
His voice rough with hunger: “Say it again. Say you’re mine.”
The taste of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the way my body had burned for him—
I gripped the counter so hard my knuckles went white.
It wasn’t just the memories. It was my body. I could still feel him. Like his fingerprints were burned into my skin, even though he was gone.
Like my body didn’t care that my brain was screaming at me to forget.
I couldn’t forget.
Around noon, the lunch rush slammed into the cafe, and I threw myself into the work. Anything to keep my mind busy.
I poured drinks, ran orders, wiped tables. Smiled until my face ached.
But every time someone brushed too close behind me, my body jolted like it expected him to be there — to press up against me, to grab me like he had that night.
At one point, a tall man with dark hair stood at the register, paying in cash, and for a heartbeat my vision blurred.
His profile was sharp. Strong jaw. That same rough edge that reminded me of—
“You knew what you were doing.”
“Dressed like that. Dancing like that. Tempting me until I couldn’t think straight—”
My breath caught. The room spun.
The customer glanced up, and I realized too late — wrong eyes. Brown, not gold.
I turned away quickly, pretending to grab more napkins as my heart slammed against my ribs.
Luca cornered me near the back after the rush.
“Okay,” he said, folding his arms. “Talk to me, babe. You’re jumpy as hell, you’re pale, and you keep zoning out like you’re being haunted.”
I let out a shaky breath, leaning against the wall. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep thinking I see him. I keep… feeling him. And it’s like my brain won’t shut up.”
Luca’s face softened. “Look, one crazy-hot night doesn’t mean you’re broken. You’re just… in your head. It was intense, yeah, but you’re okay. You just need time.”
But he didn’t get it.
Because it wasn’t just my head. It was my whole body.
Every nerve ending felt raw, like I was still caught in that night — like my skin was still waiting for his touch, even as my brain begged me to move on.
By the end of my shift, I was wrecked. My feet hurt, my head pounded, and I couldn’t look at another tall, dark-haired man without flinching.
As I peeled off my apron and grabbed my bag, I caught my reflection in the mirror behind the counter.
My face was pale. My eyes were too wide, shadowed like I hadn’t slept.
And there — just barely visible above the neckline of my shirt — was a dark mark on my collarbone. Faint now, but still there.
A bruise shaped like teeth.
Heat flared low in my stomach again, sharp and unwanted.
I yanked my bag onto my shoulder and stormed out the back door into the alley, gulping in fresh air like it could clear him out of my system.
But even with the cold wind against my face, I could still hear him.
“You’re mine now. No one else. No one ever.”
- Writer
