Ghosted (completed)

Well This is Embarrassing

My night went from one to one hundred in seconds.

After a very much planned seating arrangement, I was sat between Marcus and King. It didn't take long for Marcus' hand to move passed the arm rest and touch at my thigh. I brushed it off the first time gently, hoping it would get the message across loud and clear. Unfortunately, the guy must not have more than half a brain cell, because his hand was back a few minutes later, this time resting on my inner thigh, far too close to my underwear for comfort. Just as I was about to shove his hand away, a jump scene scared the hell out of both of us and the soda in the cup holder beside his arm was knocked out by his elbow as I pushed his hand back and spilt across my lap. With that quick movement was his entire tub of popcorn being thrusted into my face.

King started laughing rather than offer me a hand, so I shot to my feet and climbed over the back of my chair and stalked out of the theater. The minute I was in the bathroom, tears were falling out of frustration. I kicked at one of the doors to a stall repeatedly until my foot started to ache.

"Ophelia." Oliver said softly, his quiet voice filling the empty bathroom.

I shoved passed him in front of the faucet and grabbed a wad of paper towels.

"It was an accident." he defended, perching himself on the granite counter between sinks. "I doubt he meant to do that."

"If his hand hadn't been on my thigh in the first place, he wouldn't have knocked anything over!" I snapped through my teeth.

Oliver dropped his gaze to my hands under the running water. "I'm sorry."

"I knew I shouldn't have come."

Oliver heaved out an exasperation sigh and nudged my leg with his shoe. "I think it's good you came, Ophelia. I know what happened was shitty, but it's good for you to hang out with friends."

"You think, if given the chance, that Marcus would want to be my friend?"

Oliver remained silent for a while before he eventually said, "I wish I could go out there and punch the asshole, alright? I don't know what you expect me to do, Ophelia. He'd be laid out on the floor of that theater if I had it my way. But I'm fucking dead! I can't do anything but stand and watch."

I slapped a hand down against the counter. "I never asked for your help!"

"Any real man wouldn't have let him just sit there and do that!" Oliver jumped from the sink so he was brooding over me. "I thought about trying to do something the first time he touched you, Ophelia. But I couldn't."

"I don't need anyone to fight my battles."

His eyes, for a fraction of a second, changed back to the same blue I'd found myself lost in more times than I'd admit aloud. "There's a difference between standing up for you and fighting your battles. I have no doubt you can fight your own battles, Ophelia."

I threw the wet wad into the trash and slipped down the wall, burying my face in my hands. "I hate this! I don't know why I can't just be normal."

"Ophelia, what he did, he would have done to you regardless."

"It's not just him!" I snapped. "You don't and won't ever understand. It's sad, Oliver. Because I like having you around. I enjoy your company. I am such a fucking freak that my only real friend is a ghost!"

His eyes returned to the muddy brown color as he lowered himself to the ground beside me. "That's bullshit. My brother has been circling the area for the last hour. He's been waiting for you to call."