After a successful shopping spree for the Masquerade Ball, across town, Shelby and I pulled into the IceHouse parking lot just as the sun started dipping behind the tree line, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement. The neon sign above the entrance is flickering like it's struggling to stay alive and buzzing faintly in the warm evening air.
I'm so hungry I could eat an elephant. Or at most, a very large pizza.
We're barely parked when another car pulls in a few spaces down. A sleek black sedan, polished to an eye-blinding shine. The engine purrs low, like it's holding back something dangerous.
Evan's car.
Wait—what?
I turn to Shelby, narrowing my eyes. "I thought you said they'd already be here."
She shrugs, too casually. "I invited them. I didn't say they'd beat us here."
I stare at her, suspicion rising like steam. "Shelby…"
She avoids my gaze, suddenly fascinated by her cuticles. "Don't be mad. I just thought it'd be more fun if we all arrived together. You know, like fate."
I roll my eyes, but before I can say anything else, the passenger door of Evan's car opens—and the world tilts.
He steps out slowly, like he's unfolding from another dimension. Tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a dark button-down and fitted jeans that somehow make him look both casual and lethal. His hair is black as ink, tousled like he just stepped out of a storm. But it's his eyes that stop me cold.
Blue.
Not just blue—ice blue, the kind of blue that doesn't belong in a human face. The kind of blue that freezes oceans and silences rooms. They lock onto mine the moment he stands, and I swear the air between us crackles.
My breath hitches. My heart stutters.
It's him.
The man from my dreams.
Not the good kind, either. Not the kind where you wake up smiling and wishing you could fall back asleep. No, this is the man from the nightmare that's haunted me for weeks. It's him.
The man from my dreams.
Not the good kind, either. Not the kind where you wake up smiling and wishing you could fall back asleep. No, this is the man from the nightmare that's haunted me for weeks.
So many thoughts slam into me. For starters, he's the one kneeling beside the wreckage of my car, with smoke curling into the sky like fingers. He's the one who urges me toward a doorway that pulses with light, terrifying and familiar. The one who speaks of memories lost, and whose eyes—those ice-blue eyes—say everything.
He wants me to remember.
To step through.
To become something I've forgotten.
My chest tightens. My vision narrows. I feel the edges of a panic attack creeping in, cold and sharp.
"Oh my," Shelby breathes beside me. "Is it too late for me to dump Evan and take the cousin?"
She grips my arm, her nails digging in slightly. I swear she just purred.
I can't move. Can't breathe.
This can't be happening.
He's not supposed to be real.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, the sound sharp and jarring. I fumble for it, grateful for the distraction.
Mom: Are you OK?
Of course, she knows. She always knows.
I type back quickly, fingers trembling.
Me: Yes. No worries. Just got startled by something. I'm fine. Thx. Luv U. C U L8TR.
I shove the phone back into my pocket and try to steady my breathing. My mother's intuition is freakishly accurate. She's always had this sixth sense when it comes to her kids, but with me, it's like she's tapped into something deeper. Something older.
I glance back at the man—Evan's cousin, apparently—and he's still looking at me.
Not in a casual, oh-you-must-be-Angela kind of way.
No. This is different.
His gaze is steady. Intense. Like he's trying to remember something. Or maybe confirm it.
I feel like I'm being studied. Measured.
Shelby looks between me and Evan's cousin and nudges me. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
I swallow hard. "Yeah. Just… déjà vu."
She raises an eyebrow but doesn't press. Thank the gods.
Evan and his cousin reach us, and Shelby immediately launches into introductions like she's hosting a reality show.
"Angela, this is Evan's cousin, William Enyalius—"
The name barely registers before the air shifts. My grip tightens around Shelby's arm—tight enough that I might leave a mark. She glances at me again, then at Will, her eyes narrowing as she picks up on something I can't quite explain.
"What the heck is wrong with you, Ang?" Shelby mutters under her breath, her voice low and sharp.
I mentally shook off the dread, and Shebly threw out her hand, flashing her best smile like nothing's off. "Hey, how's it going? I'm Shelby. You've probably heard all about me."
Will's smile is crooked and effortless. "It's just Will. And yeah, Evan's mentioned you once or twice."
His voice is dangerous—low, warm, and sharp enough to cut if you're not careful. Every word carries that quiet kind of authority that makes you want to test it, just to see what happens. It curls around you like smoke, heavy with promise and threat. He has a voice reminiscent of the sultry romance novels our mothers tucked away in their nightstands or in the shadowy corners of their closet shelves, which we feigned not to notice but couldn't resist peeking at when no one else was around.
Then our eyes meet again—ice blue, sharp, and endless—and for a second, I forget how to breathe. It's like he sees straight through me, like he heard every thought I just had.
Wait. Did I say that out loud?
No. No, I didn't. I'm sure I didn't.
"Hi. I'm Angela. Or Ang. It's nice to meet you, Will. Evan said you're from Greece?"
There. My voice is back. The world rights itself, just a little. But his eyes—they're still on me. Still holding me in place like I'm caught in a current I didn't see coming.
He holds out his hand.
I hesitate.
Then, slowly, I take it.
The moment our skin touches, something clicks.
A jolt shoots through my fingertips. Not painful, just… startling. Like static. Or something more.
More like a lock turning.
A door opening.
And behind it, something is waiting.
His eyes widen slightly—just for a second—but it's enough. He felt it too.
"Hello, Angela," he says, his voice softer now. "Please, the pleasure is all mine. Yes, I'm from Santorini."
I try to pull my hand back, trying to act normal. "Nice to meet you."
He nods but says nothing. He doesn't look away. Doesn't blink. And then, he lifts my hand to his lips, brushing them gently over my knuckles.
I'm definitely blushing. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and I know Shelby sees it too. Her eyebrow arches, just slightly. She's clocked the moment. The connection. The spark.
And I'm still standing there, caught in it.
Shelby, noticing the tension, claps her hands. "Great! Let's eat. I'm starving."
We start to head inside, the music thumping through the floorboards, the scent of fried food and beer thick in the air. Shelby and Evan lead the way, already laughing about something. Will walks beside me, silent.
I sneak a glance at him.
He's scanning the room like he's memorizing exits. Like he's expecting something—or someone—to appear.
I don't know what's happening.
But I know one thing for sure.
This night just changed everything.