Ravish

Chapter 17

1/5/24
Delilah

The soft hum of pop music plays through the boutique, blending with the comforting scent of freshly unboxed clothes. I'm in my groove—hands gliding over fabrics as I fold sundresses and smooth wrinkles. There's something therapeutic about it, having this tiny corner of fashion haven in the midst of chemistry homework and roommate drama. But today, no matter how many tops I fold, my thoughts keep drifting to... a certain someone. Part of me doesn't want to wait until Saturday. But if I saw him everyday, I'd probably go crazy.

"Delilah?"

The voice startles me out of my reverie, and I look up to see Chelsea standing there, already halfway out of her work uniform, her red hair in a messy bun that looks a little too purposeful.

"Can you like, close for me tonight? I, um... totally forgot I have dinner plans, and I'm super late."

Typical Chelsea, always in a rush. I should say no—I'm tired, my feet hurt, and all I want is to go home and binge Netflix. But instead, I find myself nodding. "Yeah, sure. I've got it."

Chelsea beams, relief washing over her freckled face. "You're the best, girly pop!" she calls out, already darting to the back to grab her things.

I sigh, turning back to my neatly folded piles of clothes. The quiet settles in again, and I let myself get lost in the rhythm of folding. But before I can fully dive back into the peaceful monotony, the bell above the door jingles.

I glance up, expecting a customer. Instead, Chelsea rushes back in like a whirlwind, cheeks flushed and eyes wide with excitement.

"Chelsea? What—"

"Alessio just parked outside our store!" Chelsea nearly shrieks, fanning herself as if she's just seen a celebrity. "In a literal Bugatti! Just what is he doing here?!"

I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. Alessio? Here? My mind races. That guy. He didn't mention anything about stopping by—he said he'd pick me up on Saturday!

I swallow hard, trying to keep my cool. "W-what?" I stammer, eyes flicking to the window as if I might see him from where I stand. "That's... that's crazy."

Chelsea looks at me, eyes wide with curiosity. "You don't know who he is? Of course you do! He's literally everywhere. He's like, almost a celebrity at this point." She flips her hand back like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

As she's blabbing, I pull out my phone, fingers trembling as I quickly type a message to Alessio. "Stay put. I'll come out to you." I already have to deal with my roommates; I don't need any more Alessio fangirls knowing I have anything to do with him. I'm about to hit send when the bell above the door chimes again, and suddenly, there he is.

Alessio.

Standing right in the middle of the boutique, looking so effortlessly cool it almost hurts. A navy linen shirt, chinos, some shiny watch that probably costs a fortune, and that easy smirk he always wears like armor. He glances around the store with curiosity before his eyes land on me.

"So, this is where you work, huh?" His voice is smooth, teasing, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I should've known he'd show up here after making sure I knew that he knew where I worked. "It's cute. Suits you, Angel."

I feel my face heat up, and I try to keep my expression neutral. Why would he say that?! How am I going to explain this to Chelsea? I can't let him think he's winning whatever game between us he's made up! Though I have to admit, the room feels smaller with Alessio in it, like his presence alone could shift the entire atmosphere. My breath catches in my throat as his eyes lock onto mine, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. My mind races, but I force myself to stay calm, even as Chelsea is practically melting beside me, her eyes wide and starstruck.

"Uh, yeah," I manage to reply, trying to sound nonchalant as I shove my phone into my back pocket. "This is it."

Alessio steps further into the store, his eyes never leaving mine, and suddenly, I'm hyper-aware of everything—the clothes racks, the soft music playing overhead, the slight tremble in my hands. His gaze is intense, and I can feel Chelsea practically buzzing beside me, her curiosity barely contained.

"You didn't mention you were coming by," I say, my voice steadier now, though my heart is still pounding in my chest.

He shrugs, the movement casual and fluid, as if showing up unannounced was the most natural thing in the world. "I figured I'd surprise you," he says, and there's a glint of amusement in his eyes, like he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on people—on me.

Chelsea, unable to keep silent any longer, blurts out, "You're Alessio, right? I also go to UCLA!" She stares at him with wide eyes, hoping for something, anything, like this is an interview for the job of a lifetime.

Alessio glances at her, giving her a polite nod. "Cool, I think I've seen you around," he says smoothly, but with traces of boredom, like he's being polite but doesn't really care. How does he do that? He then returns his attention to me. "Angel, hurry up." Before I can say anything else, he turns and walks out, leaving the store as casually as he entered, the bell above the door chiming in his wake. Chelsea is practically vibrating with excitement next to me.

My eyebrows twitch as I shut my eyes, trying not to let the frustration get to me. Just who does he think he is, telling me to hurry up?! My cheeks heat up at his words, and I can see Chelsea's mouth drop open in disbelief. This is exactly what I didn't want—a spectacle, people asking questions, rumors starting to swirl. But with Alessio, in his celebrity-ness, it seems inevitable. I take a deep breath, trying to ground myself.

"Oh my god," she whispers, once she's sure Alessio is out of earshot. "You're seeing Alessio? The Alessio?!"

I groan inwardly, knowing that this was only the beginning of what could likely be a very long conversation. I shake my head quickly, my heart still racing. "No, no. We're not... We're just friends." I stumble over the words, knowing they sound weak even to my own ears.

Chelsea narrows her eyes, clearly not buying it. "Uh-huh, sure. Just friends. Friends who have nicknames for each other and pick each other up to hook up after work. Delilah, HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME?!"

I bite my tongue, knowing nothing I say will change her mind. "Chelsea, don't you have somewhere to be? You asked me to close, remember?"

Chelsea's face falls a little, clearly disappointed that she's not getting the gossip she craves, but she can't argue with that. "Fine, fine," she grumbles, grabbing her bag. "But you have to spill later. I'm serious!"

I nod, waving her off. The second Chelsea is out the door, I quickly finish closing up the shop. I rush through the last tasks—locking the register, turning off the lights, and flipping the sign to Closed.

As I step outside, the cool evening air brushes against my skin, but it does little to calm my nerves. Alessio is leaning casually against his flashy Bugatti, his hands in his pockets, looking like he belongs in some luxury ad campaign. He straightens up when he sees me, his smirk back in place.

"Finally," he says, his voice low and teasing. "Thought I might have to drag you out of there."

I try to play it cool, but the way he looks at me makes my stomach do flips. "You could've warned me, you know. Showing up like this..." I trail off, unsure of what to say. I never imagined him in my world like this—showing up at my work, blending his world with mine.

He shrugs, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "What about it?"

I roll my eyes, suppressing the smile tugging at my lips. "Next time, just give me a heads-up."

Alessio laughs, the sound deep and rich, and for a moment, the world feels a little less overwhelming. "Sure."

He opens the passenger door, gesturing for me to get in. I hesitate for only a second before climbing in. As the door closes behind me, I can't help but wonder what the rest of the night has in store for me. With Alessio, there are always surprises—I'm just hoping this one isn't too much for my heart to handle.