I didn't get much sleep.
It could've been because of the pounding headache I slept away or because I had the strangest dream. And in that dream, I wasn't myself. That's how I knew it had to be a dream.
I couldn't remember what time I fell asleep last night. It had to be after I slipped the bracelet on, because when I woke up, it was still secured around my wrist. But that wasn't what made the dream so weird and memorable.
A young man kept addressing me by a name that wasn't mine. What did he call me? Delilah. Yeah, that's what I believed the name was, from what I could remember. He couldn't have been older than twenty-five. But he couldn't have been any younger than eighteen either.
I couldn't tell where we were or who he was to me. It was weird. But it got even weirder. When he called me by that name, I responded? As if I knew him personally. The last time I checked, Chastity Blake was written on my birth certificate.
I frowned and flipped the French-toast in the pan, mumbling, "I don't even know anyone with the name Delilah."
"Are you talking to yourself?" Skylar's voice made me jump.
I quickly turned, stifling my fit of laughter as I took in the sight of her. "Man, you look like shit."
"Good morning, to you too." She flashed me a sarcastic smile.
I grinned. "It's going on one in the afternoon for your information."
"Seriously?" She yawned, plopping a seat behind the kitchen counter. I hummed in approval, watching her peel a banana from the bowl of fruit on the counter. "Shit, it doesn't feel like it."
"At least you don't have to work today." I laughed and removed the French-toast from the pan, separating them on our plates.
She clapped her hands together and lifted them above her head. "Thank the heavens! No offense to the old man. Amazing boss, but not so amazing job." I rolled my eyes, my laughter growing louder.
I could only imagine how happy she was.
Working in an antique shop could be as interesting as it could be boring. At least, that was how Skylar described her experience. She claimed she only kept the job because she didn't have to do a lot, but also complained that she spent most of the hours doing nothing. It was a weird logic.
"Speaking of working"—I set a plate of food in front of her—"you promised to take me job hunting today."
She shook her head. I could feel her eyes scolding me before she had the chance to open her mouth. "I invited you to live with me rent free and you still want to work all summer?"
"I may not be helping with rent, but you never said I couldn't help with groceries and stuff around the house."
"Touché." She sighed. "Okay. Well, I know just the place who's looking to hire right now. Just give me another two hours to wake up—oh! Where'd you get the bracelet?" she cut herself short and pointed to my wrist.
"Oh." I frowned. I forgot that was around my wrist. "I was going to ask you the same thing. It was on the floor in my room. So, I figured you'd know where it came from."
She frowned, shaking her head. "Oh, I have no idea. So, it's not yours?"
"No." I shook my head.
"I guess it's yours now if you want it." She shrugged and winked. "I have some stuff upstairs you can use to clean it. Give me a second. I'll go get it." I didn't have a chance to respond, because she was already gone.
Did I want to keep the bracelet? Sure, it was pretty. But there was something else. I couldn't put my finger on it. Every time the bracelet ran through my head, something stirred in my gut. It was a piercing feeling that made me want to puke. Was that a sign I shouldn't have kept the bracelet? It felt wrong, but it wasn't wrong. Did that make sense? I wasn't sure. There was also the fact that the bracelet had someone else's initials on it.
Perhaps I was over thinking as usual. I guess there was nothing wrong with keeping the bracelet for myself. It wouldn't have been weird, would it have? I didn't think so.
I shook the negative thoughts of my head. It was okay. Everything was fine.
* * *
"Anywhere but here," I begged.
I was close to dropping to my knees in a second. I had barely glimpsed over the sign on the store when I caught the word Mars, written in large white bold letters, included in the name. I knew who had the last name Mars. Mick mentioned it last night. And if this was his family's business, there was a possibility I had to work with him if I got the job.
"Listen, it's either here or fast-food woman." Skylar huffed. "Take your pick and choose wisely."
I groaned and folded my arms, contemplating my options. God, I couldn't imagine going back to a fast-food environment. My first, second, and last experience was horrible. Would I be able to torture myself like that again? The more I thought about it, the more it looked like a big hell no.
"Fine. Let's go," I muttered.
"That's the spirit. Atta girl! Think of it this way, the antique shop is just a few blocks away from here, so you can drop by whenever you need to." Skylar patted me on the back, a shit-eating grin covering her face.
Sure, that made me feel so much better. Well, if I was being honest, it did make me feel a little better.
I rolled my eyes and followed her into the entrance of the store.
The sports shop made up most of the hallway on the first floor of the shopping center. Sheesh, Andrew wasn't the only one who had some wealth to his family's background.
I could've sworn Skylar mentioned this wasn't the only sports store the Mars family owned, when she was talking to me earlier. I believed she said there was another one mixed in with the stores along the street near the antique shop. I wasn't sure, I wasn't exactly listening to her. But I did remember her saying they invested in a lot of sports goods, so I assumed that was the case.
"Speak of the devil and she shall appear. What the hell are you doing here?" A familiar voice scoffed at Skylar. I turned my head, watching Thomas round the counter, to approach us.
"I'm trying to get my friend a job dimwit. Fuck off," she retorted. "Now, where's someone with some sense that I can talk to?"
He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "My dad's not here. You'll have to speak with me."
"Oh great," Skylar murmured.
Was he the manager or something? I wouldn't have been surprised, since it was his family's business, but still. Did I have to work under him if I got the job? That sounded like a nightmare if he was going to act like this. Unless he was only like this towards Skylar.
My eyes lingered around the shop, taking in the wide space.
The inside was similar to most of the Modell's stores I'd been in. They had it all, from basketballs, to footballs, to hockey sticks, to t-shirts and sweatpants, and the list went on. There were few cameras placed in the corners of the ceiling. But they were angled perfect enough to catch the center of the store and the blind spots.
"Don't go anywhere. I'll go get you the job application," Thomas said. I turned back in time to see him retreating to the back.
I nudged Skylar's side, whispering, "Hey, does he work here?"
"Technically, no. But he helps his father out with the business." She shrugged. "So, he'll often pop in to check on the employee's, you know, to make sure they're doing what they're supposed to do."
"Oh," I said. That made sense.
As we waited longer, what sounded like commotion sparked from the back rooms.
"Stop fucking around and give them the application, you dickwad!" Someone laughed out an insult. "They're going to be waiting at the bowling alley forever because of you."
"Reggie said he was holding us a spot! We're going right after this. Damn, don't get your pantie's in a twist." Thomas moaned.
From the back room two figures appeared, Thomas and to my surprise, Andrew. He must have been equally surprised because when they rounded the corner, his face lit up at me. It was like watching a kid enter a candy store for the first time.
I should have recognized his voice. It had the same, smooth rasp he spoke with last night that was soothing to my ears. Besides, I couldn't forget the redhead who'd been eyeing me all night last night, like I was an addiction he couldn't wait to taste. I'd admit, I was doing the same. I'd have much preferred dreaming about him than the other strange guy.
His mouth opened, as if he wanted to say something to me, but Skylar beat him to it.
"So, that's what was taking you so long. Thanks for distracting him, Andrew." She sent him a snarky remark, though we could all tell she was joking.
"He didn't say you two were out here. I would have rushed him faster." Andrew smirked.
"You two are a bunch of assholes. Here, Chastity. You can stand here and fill it out or bring it back tomorrow and give it to Olly," Thomas said.
"Who's Olly?" My eyebrows knitted together.
"One second"—he turned, cuffing his hands around his mouth—"Oliver! Come here!"
"Coming!" a voice shouted from the other side of the store. Footsteps thumped against the floor as a male pushed his way through the clothing racks.
At first, all I saw was neatly cut black hair, a clean-shaven jaw, and pale skin. When he got closer, a familiar set of piercing green eyes drowned me. I could feel my veins run cold as my breath hitched in my throat.
"Delilah!" There was that unfamiliar name again. "Delilah, you left this in the back!"
He was running straight to me. But I couldn't move. Wait, where did everyone go? Him and I were alone in the store together. This was too weird. Holy hell, why wouldn't he stop calling me Delilah?
"Oh shoot! Thank you, Oliver. You're a life saver," I said, smiling.
Was that my voice talking? No, that couldn't have been. My voice wasn't that soft.
I didn't think things could get any weirder. But when I reached out to grab whatever he was placing in my hand, I noticed it. My skin. . . Was that my skin? No. That was not my skin. It was all creamy, and white, and smooth. Last time I checked I had grown up with brown skin all my life. What the hell was this?
The dark blue nail polish coating my fingers caused my chest to heave. Could he see my panic? Was it written across my face? I couldn't tell. He was looking at me the same as he had been when he ran up to me. Was this all in my head? I mean, I could hear all of my thoughts in my consciousness. So, it couldn't have been, right?
The guy named Oliver dropped the bracelet in my palm.
That bracelet. . . It looked familiar. . .
The way I slid it down my wrist with ease felt familiar too. It reminded me of when I put on the bracelet I found in my room. It was the same color, same design, same arm, same everything.
"No problem, Delilah. I'll see you tomorrow during your shift. Get home safe."
Oliver had a smile plastered across his face. Every time he looked at me and said the name Delilah, his eyes sparkled with envy. It was like he had a crush on me or something. Who the hell was this guy?
"You too, Olly!" Here I was judging him, yet I could feel a smile taking over my own face.
Why was I smiling? Oh geez, someone please make it stop, was all I could think. I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take. My thoughts were going to make my head spin.
"Chastity!"
"Ow!" I winced as a fist collided with my arm. The culprit stood beside me, her eyes searching mine. The men beside her stared at me as if I'd gone crazy.
Oh crap, how long had I been spaced out?
"Jesus, woman. Did you doze off or something? Do you know how long we've been calling your name? Took you long enough!" Skylar said.
"I-I. . ." I felt like I had a massive headache.
"It's okay. I take it you'll wait until tomorrow to bring the application back," she said.
"What? O-oh, yeah! I will," I said, clearing my throat.
"Okay. . ." she trailed, frowning at me.
Oliver's eyes haunted me. I didn't like the way they were sinking into my soul. Could he tell that I had just dreamt about him while standing here? I didn't mean to. It was weird all-around. Shoot, I could still feel myself freaking out.
"Well." Thomas cleared his throat and saluted us. "We'll be going now. We open at ten. Oliver will be here by then. Just hand him your application and he'll take you through the next steps."
"Okay," I murmured.
My heart was racing. I had only one thought on my mind. It was the same thought I'd been overthinking since this morning. I wanted to know who Delilah was.