From The Corner Of His Eye Novels & Stories

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the girls noticed and stopped as well. He took a couple of slow steps and I saw that his eyes were a gorgeous green. Then he opened his mouth slightly and whispered: "Mate."

It cut from his upper lip to the edge of his left eye, a little faint but not entirely invisible. “Stop being cocky,” he muttered as he chewed the gum in his lips like a steer prostitute. I could tell instantly, he isn't from here. “Come with me, while I’m still being nice.” I stared at him for a second too long. My eyes drifted past him to the direction he gestured. A black van sat by the corner of the lot, windows tinted. Five men stood outside, bulky, silent, and watching. Not even pretending to be casual.

Perhaps he knew that he was in the wrong, for he didn't avoid the glass at all. Instead, he chose to face my rage head-on. As such, his forehead began bleeding after the glass crashed into his head.

Not… not seeing this. Then, just like that, he looked up. His eyes, even across the whole courtyard in the dim firelight, found mine. And the edge of his mouth, just the tiniest bit, moved. It wasn't a smile, not exactly. More like a tiny knowing tilt. Like he saw me seeing him.

I steady myself, swallowing hard, keeping my emotions locked tight where they can’t spill over. From the corner of my eye, I catch him watching. His expression is unreadable, and a frown tugs at his mouth. Almost as if he's displeased with what he's witnessing.

I glanced back at him and saw the corner of his lips moving upwards. Oh, Jesus, I have to stay away from this guy! Far away!

I just wanted to be alone. From the corner of my eyes, something caught my attention like something moving in the bushes. There was a garden by my window, I tried to focus my vision because I usually found it hard to see at night and I hated glasses. When my eyes caught sight of what was hidden in the bushes I quickly covered my mouth to prevent myself from making any sound but I had already been sighted.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch something. When I turn to face the man down there, standing next to a car, he lowers his camera and hurriedly gets back inside. Wait. Was that man taking pictures of me? What the hell?

It was occasionally outright, yet other times he was stealing glances from the corner of his eye. His mind was entirely consumed by her, unable to look away.

He was serious. But before I could let that thought settle, a movement at the corner of my eye made me glance toward the hallway. And that’s when I saw him. Callum. He stood at a distance, half-hidden behind a glass partition, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His jaw was tight, his eyes dark. But one thing was certain—he was watching us. Watching me.