My laptop is mocking me.

The daunting screen stares back at me as I sit in front of it with a blank mind. For weeks now I've been stuck. Halfway through my novel, cleverly named Untitled Story, and I have no idea how to proceed.

My mom's voice floats through my head, as it always does when I struggle to write. That's just a silly hobby, Em. Don't expect to ever make something out of it. That's why you need to get your degree so you can actually get a real job someday.

I glance at my Statistics textbook, which lays forgotten in the grass beside me. I'd originally come to the park to study, but of course I got sidetracked. An easy thing to do when the subject you're studying means absolutely nothing to you. Now the sun is setting, and with the dying light I have to accept the fact that I won't be getting over this writer's block anytime soon.

As I attempt to take advantage of the last sun rays of the day, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. It can only be one of two people calling me; my mom or Brody. Pulling it out to check the screen I see it's the latter.

I answer with a small smile, "Hi, baby, what's up?"

"Em, where are you?" His tone comes through stern and direct, not entirely surprising.

"Just studying." I remark, glancing at my textbook once again. I know if I tell him that I've actually wasted the last three hours trying to write it would only make him even more annoyed.

"Where." He emphasizes, sounding impatient.

"Wither's Park."

"Alone? At this hour?" He chastises, sounding less worried and more exhausted with me, like I'm a child he can't take his eyes off of for one moment without fear of me wandering off.

I glance around the area I'm in, which had been bustling with activity when I first arrived but now I see I'm one of three people left. The other two being a pair of teenagers making out under a tree across the lawn. I don't sense any immediate danger, but telling Brody that will do little to ease his mind.

"I didn't realize how late it had gotten." I explain meekly.

"Well you need to get back to your dorm. Now." He states, "Call me when you get there so I know you're safe."

I frown down at my laptop. I had planned to stay for a little longer, but maybe he's right. I shouldn't be alone here when it's almost dark. Anything could happen.

"Okay. I'm leaving now." I tell him, shoving my belongings into my backpack before zipping it up, "I'll talk to you soon. Love you."

"You too. Bye."

He hangs up and I finish gathering my things before standing up and heading towards home. Well, not home, but the student housing for the university. That's been my home for the past two and a half months. It's drab and impersonal, much like my real home.

As I walk I realize Brody was right to want me to go. It gets darker much faster than I anticipate and it's a longer walk than I remember. The streets are pretty quiet, only the occasional car driving by and the buildings and storefronts I pass are all closed.

I enjoy the silent peacefulness. It calms me and empties my mind. I begin to not stress so much about schoolwork or my writers block or anything else bothering me.

That all comes to an abrupt halt when I hear a loud crashing noise coming from the alley just a few yards ahead. I jump a foot in the air, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and my heart attempts to leap out of my chest from the fright.

The clashing continues, along with strangled grunts and the sound of fists hitting skin. I'm drawn by concern closer to the alley, and peer curiously around the corner.

It's hard to make out the figures in the darkness, but it looks like two men are in the midst of a brutal fight. One pummels the other in the face before tossing them aside into a pile of turned-over trash cans. They clatter loudly, which I realize is what must have caused the initial crashing sound I heard.

"You're a fucking bastard!" The standing guy shouts down at the one who writhes in pain on the ground.

He begins kicking the guy in the ribs and I flinch, unable to tear my eyes away from the gruesome scene. I know I should turn and run, that this man could be psychotic and he could come after me next. I can hear my mom's voice in my head, berating me for even being near something like this. You're just a skinny, weak girl. You can't do anything. Don't be stupid enough to put yourself in danger, too.

But I watch the guy on the ground, who can't even fight back as he takes this beating, and I know I need to do something. If it were me I'd want someone, anyone, to come help.

I think quickly of what I can do, and without another moment of hesitation I pull my phone out of my pocket. I raise it high in the air before stepping around the corner and into view of the two guys.

"Hey!" I shout, trying to keep my voice strong and menacing but I can hear it wavering already, "Leave him alone, or I'm calling the cops."

The standing guy freezes, looking over at me but I can't make out his face through the dark. He seems to weigh his options, glancing back down at the beaten figure on the ground and giving him one final kick before racing off down the other side of the alley.

I breathe in relief and waste no time running to the wounded guy's aide. He's keeled over on his side, clutching his ribs, but his back is turned to me. I kneel down next to him, my hands hovering over his body, no idea what to do.

"Oh my god, are you alright? Should I call the cops? Or an ambulance?" My voice is frantic, my eyes scanning him for any signs of immediate, life-threatening injuries.

He groans deeply, pushing himself up into a sitting position with great difficulty. I peer around his shoulders, scanning his face as I wait for a response. Maybe he has a concussion. Maybe he can't even speak.

"Hello? Please say something, I'm kind of freaking out." I beg, five seconds away from dialing 911.

"I'm fine." He grates out in a gravelly voice that is thick with pain.

He turns his head to glance at me, breathing out sharply, but his expression seems more annoyed than anything else. As I stare at him I realize that despite the blood dripping down his forehead and the cut on his lip, he's insanely attractive.

His sharp jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth together in anticipation of standing up. He does so slowly and I quickly straighten up as well. When he's at his full height I take a step back, tilting my head up just to look at him. He's at least a foot taller than me and his shoulders are twice as wide as mine.

How could someone this fit be losing a fight like that?

He sways momentarily, as though trying to gain his bearings, and his hand shoots out to grip the brick wall beside him, stabilizing himself. My eyes roam over the defined muscles in his arms before trailing back over to his face.

"You don't look fine." I insist.

He's watching me with a sullen glare, dark eyebrows drawn together and pink lips pursed as he remarks, "Well I am fine. Eric hits like a bitch."

A concerned frown graces my face as I look him over. He's bruised, bleeding, and still holding his ribs in pain. That all indicates that he is not fine.

"Why was he beating you up? Are you sure I shouldn't call the police?" I question with concern lacing my tone.

"No. I'm fine." He repeats for a third time with exasperation, brushing the dust and dirt off his clothes as the blood continues to drip down his forehead. He hardly notices or cares, but I begin to worry.

Without another thought I slide my backpack off my shoulders and rummage through the front pockets, "I might have some band-aids in here somewhere, but you should really go to the hospital. Your head is bleeding. You could have a concussion or something."

The guy regards me as though I'm an alien. His head tilts to the side as his golden-brown eyes look my up and down. He watches silently as I pull out a few of the random band-aids I have floating around my backpack, along with a water bottle.

"You should clean it out before it gets infected." I instruct, holding the items out to him.

I wait expectantly for him to take them, but all he does is stare down at my outstretched hand before glancing back at me with a small hint of amusement in his eyes.

He makes no move to take them, but with a barely restrained smile he cocks his brow at me and remarks, "Hello Kitty?"

I frown down at the band-aids to see they are in fact covered with the little cartoon cat. Not only that, they're also pink. For some reason I feel embarrassed.

"I- it's- it's all I have." I stutter, shaking my fist lightly to get him to take them.

He shakes his head and smirks, "I'm not putting that shit on my face. I'm fine."

His voice is gruff, but tinged with a hint of pain. I frown at him, persistent in trying to help him as I point out, "You're not fine, stop saying that. Your ribs could be broken or you could have a concussion or internal bleeding-"

"And your Hello Kitty band-aids are supposed to fix all that?" He muses with a coy expression.

"I'm trying to help you." I pointedly sigh, feeling a growing frustration at his unconcerned attitude towards all of this.

He tilts his head, regarding me inquisitively, "Are you a nurse or something?"

"I- no, I'm a finance major." I mumble with a frown, finally dropping my arm as it's grown tired of waiting.

He huffs out a quick laugh and I wonder what's so funny until he remarks, "A finance major? You do not seem like the type."

My brow perks at him as I question, "Why's that?"

He shrugs, "You're a beautiful girl, you could be doing anything in the world."

My cheeks flame at his words, and I shuffle my feet as I reply with uncertainty, "Um, thanks?"

"Anytime." He smirks, raising his hand up to brush through his dark, unruly curls. When he draws his hand back he glances down and sees the smear of red on his palm, "Shit, my head is bleeding."

"I told you." I sigh, holding my hand back out with the band-aids, but he disregards them, instead gazing at my face.

"Baby, I could be bleeding out in a ditch with three gunshot wounds in my chest and I still wouldn't accept those band-aids. Just put them away."

I frown at his attitude for a moment before unzipping my bag and shoving the items back into it as I mutter under my breath, "If you had three gunshot wounds I wouldn't offer you band-aids, obviously they wouldn't do much."

"What was that, baby?" He hums, and I snap my gaze back up at him.

"Stop calling me that."

"Why?" He smirks, "Do you prefer sweetheart?"

"I prefer nothing." I quip, "I have a boyfriend."

His smirk only grows as he tilts his head, analyzing me with an intrigued gaze, seeming to grow even more interested in me, "Of course you do."

I watch his face and his eyes, searching for hints that he could be thinking unclearly. He doesn't want my help but I wouldn't feel okay with myself leaving him alone just yet. Not until I'm certain he'll be alright.

"Are you sure you don't have a concussion?" I question, turning the conversation back around.

He shrugs, stepping back slightly to cross his arms over his chest and lean against the wall of the building beside us. It seems to pain him, but he doesn't readjust as he remarks, "Who's to say?"

"What day is it?" I ask.

"Saturday." He replies, grinning down at me, "What's your favorite color?"

"What? Why?" I scrunch my face up at him as he shrugs again.

"You ask a question, I ask a question. Thought we were getting to know each other here?" His tone is light and flirty, despite what I told him about having a boyfriend.

"I'm not getting to know you. I'm making sure your brain isn't swollen from blunt force trauma."

"That's very sweet."

I frown and push on, "What city are we in?"

"San Bernardo." He states without missing a beat, "You didn't answer the color question."

I roll my eyes. He's clearly going to keep joking around, no matter what I do. May as well appease him. I think for a moment before replying, "Yellow, I guess."

He smiles broadly, "Of course it is."

"What's your name?" I finally question, though it's not one I would even know the answer to.

"What's yours?" He quips, smirking down with amusement.

I hesitate for a moment about giving him my real name, but then I decide why not? It's just a name, "Emerson Rose."

He nods his head, as though approving as he praises, "Gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl."

"And yours?" I press, ignoring his continual flirting.

He purses his lips before replying, "People call me Ghost."

I frown, "Why do people call you that?"

He shrugs, "Who knows."

I have a feeling he knows, but he seems to be a master at evasion. I decide I've had enough. He's clearly fine, fine enough to continually hit on me, at least.

I heave a sigh, "Well, you don't appear to be dying, so I'm gonna go. Are you sure there isn't anything I can help you with?"

He smirks, glancing down as he remarks, "Well if you're offering..." I roll my eyes at his suggestive tone, but he surprises me by saying, "I could use a phone."

I frown, "Why?"

"Mine's dead." He states nonchalantly, "Can I use yours real quick to call a friend?"

I purse my lips before nodding and handing the phone over after unlocking the screen. He smiles at the background photo. It's a picture of my dog when she was still a puppy, and I have a feeling he expected my background to be exactly that.

I wait patiently as he taps away at the screen before raising it to his ear. I try not to listen to his conversation, instead attempting to not appear obvious as I look him up and down when he takes a few steps away to talk to whoever's on the other end.

He really is attractive. Tall, dark, and handsome. Isn't that what every girl wants? Although I'm not sure how many want a guy who's getting beat up in an alley in the dark.

I wonder once again why he was in that fight in the first place. He said the name Eric, so he knows the guy. What kind of disagreement led to punching and kicking in an alleyway?

"Yeah, sure. Thanks man." I catch the end of his conversation before he ends the call. He taps away at the screen for a few moments and I figure he's deleting the recent call so I don't try to call it back or something like some crazy girl.

When he hands it back he smiles appreciatively, "Thank you, Rose."

"No problem." I mumble, shoving the phone into my pocket.

"And thank you for saving me before. You're my little hero." He teases, smirking down at me.

"It's nothing." I assure him, itching to get going, knowing that if I don't call Brody soon he'll worry.

We step out of the alley and both hesitate for a moment. I'm not sure what to say or do, so I slowly back away as I remark, "I'll- uhm, see you around." I realize that's stupid to say because we're not two friends saying goodbye. We're not likely to see each other again.

He just continues to smirk, "I hope so."

I toss him a tight smile, brushing the hair out of my eyes as I quickly utter, "Goodnight, Ghost."

"Night, Rose."

With that we go our separate ways, thank god not in the same direction, that would be awkward. It isn't long until I reach the dorms. My roommate is fast asleep when I enter so I sneak quietly down the hall and softly shut my bedroom door.

I want to get in my pajamas and crawl into bed, feeling exhausted from such a weird, emotionally draining experience, but I first need to call Brody back.

I find his contact and press the call button, but it just rings until going to voicemail. I try one more time but he still doesn't pick up. He must have gone to bed already, forgetting that he wanted me to call.

I decide to at least text him, but as I go out of his contact I notice something. There's a new contact in my phone. It's not hard to miss as my phone isn't exactly overflowing with numbers. There isn't a written name with it, but I immediately know who it is when I see the little ghost emoji.

I sigh and shake my head. He must've put it in when I let him use my phone. My finger hovers over the contact, ready to delete it as I have no reason to keep the number of some stranger who flirted with me, especially when I know how Brody can be.

But I hesitate.

Maybe I should keep it. Not to ever use, but just to remind myself that something interesting happened in my life for once. It was scary, sure, but also exciting. I haven't felt that way in a long time.

I stare down at the ghost emoji and smile before clicking my phone off and getting ready for bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AN;
Well, first chapter down. Let me know what you think. Please comment and vote if you enjoyed, or even if you didn't enjoy 😉 Anything to help boost this story, I appreciate it!

- Xo Sarah