Must Haunt The Playboy [Editing]

Chapter 1 √

If she doesn't scare the hell out of you a little, she's not the one.
-Pinterest.

• • •

I watched, annoyance colouring my features as he made himself comfortable at the study table, before slowly and reluctantly pulling out his notes to complete his assignment. Everything about him - from his stance, his deliberately slow movements to the repeated tapping of his pen against the tabletop- annoyed me in ways I just couldn't explain. I wanted to leap across the room, grab him by the neck and squeeze, not hard enough to kill him because more than anything, I needed the idiot alive but just enough to let off some steam.

It was bad enough that I was cursed, but this, this was just too much. I wasn't the nicest person out there but the universe really did not have to go this far to make me pay for my sins. Give me the solution to my problems but make him as impossible as far as impossibilities come, then leave me with no means of communicating with him. There was sheer wickedness and then there was this.

'Give me a break will you?' I said to no one in particular.

I just couldn't take much more of this. Not to mention, the boy in question was as irritating and self-absorbed as they came. Even if he could see me, I had no delusions that we would ever get along. We would definitely bicker every step of the way. I just wouldn't be able to stand him.

I stalked across the room, over to where he sat staring blankly at the pages of his notebook with the pen stuck between his teeth, as he lazily tapped out a beat with his index and middle finger. Admittedly, the boy in question had done little to nothing to me in particular but I hated him with a burning intensity that I have always reserved for anyone of the Tituba bloodline.

It didn't help that he also had the attitude of a diseased pig.

After a minute of staring blankly at the page with me breathing down his neck while hoping for a miracle that would allow him to somehow see me so I could finally be free of the hell I was trapped in, he plucked the pen from his mouth and wrote down two words; his name.

'Idiot.' I muttered condescendingly, rolling my eyes as he groaned before proceeding to strike out the words. 'Well, you're a smart one, aren't you, douche bag?' I added acidly.

Flipping to the next page, he scribbled something down too quickly for me to read. I leaned forward, practically resting on him as I tried to make out the illegible scrawl.

'Dumbass.' I mumbled after making out the scrawl to be the topic of the assignment.

'Jer---' I began to add before being rudely cut off.

'WILL YOU STOP HOVERING!' He yelled irritatedly, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Well, I know he's not talking to me., was my first thought as I turned, looking behind me for the unfortunate person the idiot was yelling at.

There was no one else in the room and if I wasn't mistaken, he was staring at me. Not through me - like always - but at me.

I blinked once, then twice. And a third time, just to be sure.

The only people in his room were still me and him. That can't be right, I thought, before closing my eyes and rubbing them furiously.

There was still no one else in the room

My eyes widened slightly as I gazed at him, realization dawning on me.

'You can see me.' I gasped.