Page 49 of Deliah
“Oh, come on,” she teased. “Just text him back. What’s the worst that can happen?”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Cherry… the worst with him is really fucking bad.”
“Well,” she said, yawning, “keep me posted. And Deliah? Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
I hung up and stared at the ceiling, the message still glowing in my mind. I sat up all night thinking.Should I text him? What would I even say? Why now? Why me?
I didn’t need another ghost in my life. Especially not one with a loaded wallet, blue eyes, and a tendency to ruin people like itwas a hobby. But God help me… I already knew I was going to text him back.
Chapter 19 –
Jawlines & Justifications
After replaying every stupid decision I’d made in the last year and every blurry memory I wasn’t ready to let go of, I finally crashed out. And when I woke up, it was like someone had lit a fire in my belly. A proper one. Burning hot. Damion. That blue-eyed bastard.
What even was he? A warning? A lesson I never quite got the chance to learn? All I knew was that my head was fried. And him? He was bold—so fucking bold. Just swoops back in like months of silence didn’t mean shit. No apology. No explanation. Just swagger and that same maddening confidence. But why now? Was he bored? Had his little Spanish flings dried up? Had he been watching me all this time, waiting for the perfect moment to crawl back into my bloodstream? He wasn’t mysterious. He was a problem. Wrapped in pretty eyes and thekind of dominance that made you question your morals. And what was I even meant to reply to that message? I spiralled for hours, trying to come up with something cool. Detached. Unbothered. The best I managed by morning was: “Look who came out of the woodwork.” Cringe. But I hit send anyway.
Seconds later, he replied: “Unforgettable.”
My heart stuttered. I replied with a laughing emoji like I wasn’t already reliving every chaotic, addictive second we’d shared. Then came the gut punch.
“I’m flying back to England for the weekend. I’m taking you out.”
Excuse me? Back at it again with the commands, not questions. I rolled my eyes and typed: “I’m afraid I’m booked up.”
Felt smug for about three seconds—until he hit me with: “It’s non-negotiable, Deliah. See you Saturday at seven.”
I froze. Wait—how the fuck did he know where I lived? I stared at the screen, pulse hammering. Was I scared? Excited? Turned on? Honestly, probably all three.
I wandered downstairs and said to my mum, super casual: “Someone from Spain has asked me on a date. He’s flying back just to see me.”
She raised an eyebrow, half interested. “Ooh, he must be keen, bab. What’s he like?”
I paused. How do you even begin to explain Damion? So I went simple. “He’s nice.”
“Yeah? What’s he look like?”
“Tanned. Blue eyes. Pretty fit,” I said with a smirk.
She grinned. “Well, if he’s flying back for you, he must be confident.”
I laughed, nerves fluttering in my chest. “Yeah... I’m probably gonna go.”
God help me—I already knew I was.
I went upstairs and jumped in the shower to try and wash the stress off me—though no amount of hot water could rinse the stress out of my head. I scrubbed at my skin like it might cleanse the memories, too. When I finally got out, towel-wrapped and half fogged in the mirror, I rang Cherry. “Guess who’s got a date planned for Saturday?”
There was a pause, then, “Ha! No way. I knew you’d text him back.”
“Well… he is flying back. And he is kinda hot.”
“Kinda hot?” She scoffed. “He’s fucking scorching. And we both know he’s loaded.”
That was Cherry for you. Not a gold digger—just a girl who understood value. Emotional and financial. We spent the next hour spiralling over what I should wear.
“Something subtle?” I asked.
“Subtle’s for librarians, babe. Go slutty.”
