The digital clock on my dashboard flips to 12:00, and my stomach does a somersault worthy of an Olympic gymnast. I grip the steering wheel tighter, my palms leaving damp prints on the leather. The Salem Occult Museum looms before me, a Victorian monstrosity with black-painted trim and gargoyles perched along the roofline like judgmental birds.
"Jesus Christ, Ethan," I mutter to myself, catching my wild-eyed reflection in the rearview mirror. "When was the last time a woman made you this nervous?"
High school. Definitely high school. Specifically, asking Melissa Chen to prom while my voice cracked on every other syllable. I'm twenty-eight years old now, for fuck's sake.
"Fuck," I whisper, rehearsing potential openers. "Hey, I was just in the neighborhood..." No, that's transparent bullshit. "I found your LinkedIn and..." Nope, straight-up stalker territory.
What exactly is my plan here? Barge into her workplace and demand explanations about our cosmic connection? Ask why she disappeared like a ghost after the most transcendent night of my life?
"Stop fucking around, Ethan," I tell myself firmly. "You're a grown-ass man. Just go in there."
Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm out of the car, slamming the door with more force than necessary. The cool autumn air hits my face, clearing some of the hangover fog still clinging to my brain. Each step toward the museum entrance feels like walking through molasses, my heart pounding a rhythm that drowns out everything else.
The heavy wooden door creaks as I push it open, releasing a waft of incense and dust. I step into the dimly lit foyer, blinking as my eyes adjust from the bright sunlight outside. A collection of antique mirrors lines the entryway, each reflecting my anxious face at slightly different angles.
And there she is.
Calista stands on the other side of the foyer, as if she's been waiting for this exact moment. Her crimson eyes lock with mine instantly, her lips curving into that same mysterious smile that's been haunting me since I woke up alone.
"Hello, Ethan," she says, her voice carrying across the space with perfect clarity.
"Calista..." My mouth goes dry, all my practiced lines evaporating like mist.
She takes a step toward me, those crimson eyes glittering with amusement. "You sure were eager to find me, huh?"
My heart hammers against my ribs. I could lie, make up some bullshit, but something about her gaze strips away any pretense I might have considered.
"Yes," I admit, straightening my shoulders. "I was."
Her smile widens, revealing those perfect teeth. She glides across the floor toward me, her movements fluid and predatory. When she reaches me, her cool fingers trace a path along my jawline, sending electricity down my spine despite my hangover.
"Your eyes," she murmurs, studying me with fascination. "They make you look obsessed."
"I'm not…" I start to protest, but her finger presses against my lips, silencing me.
"Shhh," she whispers, leaning close enough that I can smell that same exotic spice from last night. "Don't lie in this sacred place, Ethan. It's... disrespectful."
I glance around at the dusty displays of occult paraphernalia. "The museum?"
Calista takes my hand in hers, her thumb tracing small circles on my palm that make it difficult to focus. "This museum was founded on sacred land, Ethan. Long before Salem became synonymous with witches, this ground was... special."
"Okay..." I manage, trying to process what she's saying while my skin tingles from her touch.
Her head tilts slightly, that cryptic smile never leaving her face. "So, what can I do for you, Ethan?"
The question hangs between us, loaded with implications. What I want to say is. Why did you leave? What was last night about? Why do I feel like I've known you for a thousand years? But standing here in this strange, incense-filled space with her crimson eyes boring into mine, I can't form the words.
"I just..." I swallow hard. "I woke up and you were gone."
"Did that upset you?" she asks, her tone genuinely curious, as if she's conducting a scientific experiment.
"Yes," I admit, hating how vulnerable I sound. "We had... I mean, what happened between us was…"
"Special," she finishes for me, her fingers tightening around mine. "I know. That's why I left."
I blink at her, trying to make sense of her logic. "That makes no sense."
Calista laughs, the sound echoing off the antique mirrors surrounding us. "Most important things don't make sense at first, Ethan. Like why a respectable HR benefits administrator would stalk a woman to her workplace after one night together."
My face burns with embarrassment. "When you put it that way, it sounds creepy as hell."
Her eyes dance with mischief as she leans closer. "Or maybe it was a test I prayed you would pass."
"A test?" I echo, my brain struggling to keep up with her cryptic statements.
"I'm just kidding..." She smirks, tracing her finger along my forearm. The touch sends electric currents racing up my skin.
I take a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. "Look, I'd love it if we could at least exchange numbers. You know, do this properly."
"I already have your number," she says matter-of-factly.
"What?" I blink in confusion.
She places her hand on her stomach, rubbing it slowly in a gesture that's both innocent and provocative at once. "You gave it to me last night... after you filled me up."
My face ignites like a furnace. "Oh, I don't remember that part."
"I imagine not," she laughs, the sound like wind chimes in the musty air. "You were quite a mess."
"Sorry about that," I mumble, mortified.
Her expression softens unexpectedly. "No, it was perfect."
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. I glance down to see a text notification from an unknown number, just a single heart emoji.
"There," Calista says, slipping her phone back into her pocket. "Now you have my number too."
The simple gesture feels more intimate than it should, like we've just exchanged something far more significant than contact information.
"Are you free tonight?" The question tumbles out before I can stop it.
She chuckles, eyebrows arching delicately. "My, my, Ethan. You really aren't trying to play around at all, are you?" Her head tilts to one side, crimson eyes studying me like I'm an artifact in her museum. "Don't you want to take this nice and slow before rushing into things?"
"I..." Panic floods my system. Have I completely misread everything?
"I'm kidding again," she says, her smile returning. "I don't usually work on weekends. I'm just helping someone out today. I'll be free around five. Pick me up then?"
"Yes," I answer, the eagerness in my voice embarrassingly transparent. I might as well be a puppy begging for treats, but I can't bring myself to care.
"Good boy," she purrs, and the words send a shiver down my spine.
Without warning, she lunges forward, her lips crashing against mine with startling ferocity. My back hits the wall behind me as she presses her body against mine, her tongue expertly parting my lips and claiming my mouth. The taste of her, something bitter and smoky floods my senses, making my head spin faster than any whiskey ever could.
I'm drowning in her, my hands instinctively finding her waist, pulling her closer as if I could somehow merge our bodies together right here in this museum foyer. Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging just hard enough to send shivers racing down my spine. The kiss deepens, her tongue dancing with mine in a rhythm that feels ancient and familiar, like muscle memory from a thousand previous lifetimes.
Just as my lungs begin burning for air, the distinct sound of footsteps echoes through the museum. Calista pulls away abruptly, leaving me gasping like a drowning man finally breaking the surface. My lips feel bruised, my body electric with need.
"See you tonight, Ethan," she whispers, her crimson eyes gleaming with promise. She brushes her thumb across my bottom lip, collecting a smudge of her own dark lipstick.
I stumble back out into the sunlight, my head swimming with the lingering taste of her kiss, my lips still tingling from her touch. The door swings shut behind me with a heavy thud that echoes through my chest. For a moment, I just stand there on the sidewalk, trying to process what just happened.
What the hell am I doing?
The thought hits me like a bucket of ice water. I've never been this person. This desperate, lovesick fool chasing after someone I barely know. I'm the guy who waits three days to text back. I'm the one who "isn't looking for anything serious right now." I'm the one who ghosts.
I take a few unsteady steps toward my car, running my fingers through my hair as reality starts to sink in. In less than twenty-four hours, I've transformed into someone I don't recognize. I tracked down a woman I slept with once. I drove to her workplace. I practically begged for her number.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter, fumbling for my keys. My reflection in the car window looks wild-eyed, disheveled. Like a man possessed.
A couple walking by gives me a wide berth, the woman clutching her partner's arm a little tighter. I can't blame them. I look unhinged.
I've always been the one with one foot out the door. The one who cared less. It was safer that way. No disappointment. No heartbreak.
But with Calista... something's different. It's like she's rewired my brain, flipped some hidden switch I didn't know existed. The thought of not seeing her again makes my chest physically ache.
I turn back to look at the museum, really taking it in for the first time. In the bright autumn sunlight, the architecture takes on a sinister quality, the gargoyles sneering, the black trim like wounds against the pale facade. A shiver runs down my spine despite the warmth of the day. There's something undeniably unsettling about the place, something that whispers of secrets and darkness.