Traces of Delilah

Eight

Delilah's bracelet was either magical or haunted. If I had a Ouija board, perhaps I could have figured out if Delilah's spirit was truly haunting me. Oh, who was I kidding? Like I would have actually gotten close to a Ouija board. Weren't ghost hauntings supposed to be more physical anyways? Maybe even scary? Something along that aspect. Whatever the case, I didn't think it was likely.

"Your lover boy is here!" Skylar yelled.

"This isn't a date!" I said, rolling my eyes.

"Sure, it's not!" she shouted back. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, a huge smirk spread from corner to corner across her face. "Do you not consider me a local OR did you just want one of the the rich town hottie's to drive you around and make you feel special?" she teased.

I shooed her away from the door, grabbing my bag. "Shut your dramatic ass up. He initiated us hanging out, for your information. I just took him up on the offer for free food."

"You free loading bitch." Skylar laughed. "I like it."

"Can't two attractive people hang out together without ulterior motives?"

"In your case? Hell no. Two single people obviously interested in each other. But one is playing hard to get and the other doesn't mind the chase. You don't have to be afraid to admit it's a date.

"Dating is all about experimenting. Experimenting doesn't entitle a relationship. If it works out, then pursue a relationship. If it doesn't, then screw it, don't pursue a relationship. How's that sound?"

I fake gagged at her grin. "Are you done now, mom?"

"Yes, yes. Of course." Skylar peeled back the door, waving to Andrew. The minute he saw the door open, he pushed up his sunglasses and kicked off the side of his car in two strides.

"Be careful now, you two. Don't bring her back too early. Jason'll be here and we don't want a rerun of what happened her first day." Skylar winked at me.

"Don't worry, she'll have so much fun, she won't ever want to come back," Andrew retorted.

"Hey, now, I didn't say steal my best friend. I'll hunt you down, you loser." After they had, what I assumed was an awful stare down over me, they both laughed. I rolled my eyes and walked away, reaching for the door handle, but Andrew beat me to it.

"Thank you." I smiled. He smiled and nodded back, then headed for the driver's side.

"I have to stop at my dad's house first, if that's okay with you. Then, we can get on with the tour."

"That's fine. I don't mind." I shrugged.

"Okay, cool," he said.

* * *

When he mentioned his dad, I hadn't expected a man ten shades darker than him. I certainly didn't expect that man to be the same ethnicity as me. But it was confirmed when he opened the door to his luxurious gray brick home for us, that sat on a low hill towards the Upper East side of Baskerville. All one-hundred-percent of him was a Black man.

I was sure I had an odd expression masking my face. It was like that meme, trying to calculate what the hell was going on in my head.

"I'm biracial."

"Huh?" I snapped out of my daze and turned to Andrew. He had just finished buckling himself in the seat. He then shifted the gear into drive.

"You didn't think I was mixed, did you? I got those looks a lot growing up when people met my parents. I know I don't look it, but I'm biracial," he repeated again with a smirk.