Page 1 of Ghost Of You

Chapter one

8th August 2017

“Killian!” he shouts, waving his hand in front of my face.

I shake my head, clearing the fog that has settled over my thoughts, and turn to see Ethan grinning at me, clearly amused.

Ethan and I go way back. We’ve known each other since childhood, growing up on the same street, with our mothers being the closest of friends. Our bond was forged early, partly due to the closeness of our birthdays—just a month apart, with me being the older one at twenty-six.

Last year, however, brought a heavy change when Ethan's parents were tragically taken from him in an unexpected accident. It was a blow that affected both of us deeply. Despite the hardships, our friendship has remained a constant source of support and strength, an anchor in the stormy seas of life.

“I’m good,” I assure Ethan, but Jasper, who’s standing on the other side of him, raises an eyebrow sceptically. It’s clear he’s not buying my attempt to brush off whatever’s on my mind.

Ethan and I first crossed paths with Jasper back in high school. We were the trio that always found a way to slip away to the back of the field, escaping the mundane routine to get high. Those summer days were the best—sun blazing down, the heat rising, and rock music blaring from a portable speaker. The thrill of the moment was only heightened by the attention of the girls who’d chase after us, their laughter mingling with the music. But amidst all that chaos, my focus eventually narrowed onto one particular girl who captured my attention more than the rest. She was special, and she changed everything for me.

"Are you sure?" Jasper asks, his tone laced with doubt.

"I'm sure," I reply, though my mind is far from convinced. I’m deep in contemplation about the twists and turns my life has taken.

Ethan lets out a hearty chuckle and gives me a friendly slap on the back. “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, brother. You’re a free man now. Sure, you were tied down to that absolute psychopath for a few months, but those days are over. Now’s your chance to let loose, party hard, and chase after as many women as you want.”

His words are meant to lighten the mood, and I appreciate the attempt. Still, it’s hard to shake the lingering weight of recent events.

The smug grin on Ethan’s face tells me he’s already picturing the wild escapades he’d dive into if he were in my shoes. But honestly, the idea of sleeping around doesn’t appeal to me. Sure, I get a lot of attention, but that’s not what I’m after. What I truly want is a simple, happy life with someone special to share it with—not just a series of fleeting encounters.

As for Ethan’s description of Heather—calling her a psychopath might be a bit harsh, but it’s not entirely off the mark. She was needy and demanding, with trust issues and a fiery temper. If she didn’t get what she wanted, she’d have ameltdown. Once, in a particularly dramatic outburst, she even slashed both tyres on my motorbike.

Reflecting on it, I suppose “psychopath” isn’t too far from the truth. I stayed with her longer than I should have, partly because I didn’t want to face the loneliness of being single. If I’d have had my head screwed on right, I would have ended that relationship sooner. But now, with the dating scene being what it is, finding someone truly meaningful seems like an overwhelming challenge. It makes me yearn for the days when meeting someone meant face-to-face encounters and genuine courtship, rather than swiping left and right in a digital sea of potential matches.

Unlike me, Ethan stays far away from dating apps. He has no interest in pursuing a relationship and thrives on the attention he naturally attracts. Standing at six foot three with dark blonde locks that cascade effortlessly, ocean blue eyes that never fail to capture attention, and a heavily tattooed athletic physique, it’s no wonder he draws so many admirers.

Jasper, on the other hand, also attracts a fair share of attention, though he’s as disinterested in acting on it as I am. With his pastel blue hair, deep brown eyes, a beard and adorned with tattoos, including some on his face, Jasper is undeniably striking. Despite his good looks and charm, he’s searching for something long-term, unlike Ethan who prefers flings. At least Jasper seems to have his priorities straight.

I can't entirely fault Ethan’s approach, though. He suffered a crushing blow a few years ago when he discovered his then-girlfriend—whom he had planned to propose to—cheating on him with one of our former friends, Thomas. To make matters worse, Thomas and Stacey vanished, and we later learned they had married and moved across the country. The betrayal left a deep mark on Ethan. After the revelation, he went on a three-day drinking binge, only to return with a facade of normalcy.It’s clear that experience has shaped his reluctance to commit; the fear of opening his heart to someone new only to have it shattered again is a painful memory he struggles to shake off.

Feeling the cold breeze against my face makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end as I take a drag from my cigarette, waiting to get into Laser, the most talked-about nightclub in this otherwise forgettable town. The term "hottest" is a bit of a stretch—Laser is more of a sweaty, overcrowded hotspot frequented by university students who drink far more than they can handle. Still, it’s the most decent option around.

The club’s entrance policy is notoriously strict. It’s known for occasionally letting in underage patrons, but recently they’ve cracked down hard. The rules are simple but rigid: if you’re a woman, you can get away with just about anything in terms of attire. For guys, though, it's a different story. If you're not wearing the right shoes, your outfit is questionable, or you simply give off a weird vibe, you're not getting in.

As we wait, a young woman ahead of us catches my attention. She looks barely eighteen and is wearing a ridiculously short, tight pink leather dress that leaves little to the imagination. She adjusts her dress to ensure her cleavage is prominently displayed and approaches the bouncer with a flirtatious smile, presenting her ID.

The bouncer takes the ID, glancing at it before turning his eyes back to her with a smirk. “This is fake,” he says, his tone almost amused.

Her mouth drops open in disbelief. “It’s not!” she protests, crossing her arms beneath her cleavage, clearly hoping to distract him with her assets. The bouncer remains unmoved, his gaze firmly fixed on her face.

“Come back when you have a real ID and are actually over eighteen,” he replies, tossing her fake ID back to her.

She snatches it up, huffing with indignation, and storms off in her impractical high heels, her steps echoing sharply on the pavement as she joins a group of other disappointed girls who had already been turned away.

It never ceases to amaze me how people think they have a chance. If one ID is fake, it's almost a given that the others in the group are too.

As the line shortens, our turn approaches. When the bouncer finally looks at me, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. He recognises me, and his expression softens slightly as he waves us through.

“Killian! Long time no see! How are things?” Sam calls out with genuine warmth.

Sam is one of my regular clients at the tattoo parlour, always coming in for new ink despite already being heavily covered. He never misses an opportunity to fill in the little gaps, and during our sessions, we chat about everything from life and hobbies to his family. He often tells me about his wife, Abigail, and their two kids, Tyler and Madison. We bond over our shared love for rock music, which always plays softly in the background. Overall, he’s a great guy and someone I consider a friend.

As I approach, Sam extends his hand. We exchange a quick handshake, followed by what we call a "bro hug"—a hearty pat on the back.

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