Maybe losing your memory wasn't just about forgetting—it was about not knowing who to trust. Who had been a friend, and who hadn't? I was still adjusting to the stares. Apparently, before the accident, I had been popular, especially with the guys. Whatever that had meant, I was steering clear of it now.
But sometimes, loneliness crept in. Like today, as I sat in a bustling café in the heart of town, sipping coffee I couldn't even name. Coffee and I had a peculiar relationship—sweet, bitter, or somewhere in between, I drank it all. Yet, I never learned what any of it was called.
So, whenever I came in, I simply said, "The usual" or, "Whatever's best."
The barista, a friendly woman with a constant smile, seemed to know me—or the me from before. The first time I walked in after the accident, she beamed and said, "It's been so long! Thought you'd dropped out."
I didn't know how to respond. I just stared, awkwardly silent. She didn't seem to mind, though. She just made my coffee. Since then, it had been the same every visit: her making my drink, me offering nothing but silence.
And strangely, the seat I liked—the one by the window with the perfect view of the street—was always available. It became my spot, my little sanctuary. I could sit there, watching people pass by, keeping an eye on my car parked a little ways down, and enjoying the quiet rhythm of my thoughts.
It felt like I was building a routine, something almost normal. And for now, I liked that.
It had been almost a week since I'd seen Adam, and there was nothing wrong with that. Absolutely nothing. I definitely wasn't thinking about him. Nope, not even a little.
Don't even think about it, Crystal. Just don't.
So, I buried myself in my studies. Really buried myself—so much so that I read until I was too tired to sleep. Sleep brought dreams, and dreams brought death, pain, fear, and that creature. I didn't have the energy for that.
Isaac, on the other hand, was full of energy. He had aced his midterms, and now his life revolved around sex—or at least talking about it nonstop. It was maddening. So, here I was, in the café on an early Saturday morning, trying to find some peace.
I sipped my coffee, watching a group of girls at a nearby table. They were laughing and giggling, the sound light and infectious. Was I ever like that? Did I laugh and talk with friends that way before everything went poof? Did I gossip about boys, talk about crushes, happiness, or sex?
I really really wanted to know.
Leaning my chin into my hand, I let my thoughts drift, losing myself in the rhythm of their laughter. I didn't even notice when Striker slid into the seat opposite me, his dark eyes fixed on me.
When I finally looked up, startled, he smirked, leaning back casually in the booth.
"Don't stop on my account," he said, his voice smooth and teasing. "You looked... deep in thought."
I blinked, thrown off by his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?"
His smirk widened. "Same as you, I'd imagine. Coffee. People-watching. Maybe pondering the mysteries of life."
"Right," I said, rolling my eyes. "Because you're such a philosopher."
He shrugged, unbothered by my sarcasm. "You'd be surprised."
I tried to ignore him, focusing back on my coffee and the girls, but his presence was magnetic. It was like the air around him demanded attention, and I hated that it worked.
"Seriously," I said finally, unable to help myself, "why are you here?"
He leaned forward, his smirk softening into something almost genuine. "I saw you sitting alone and we need to talk."
His words hung in the air, and for a moment, I didn't know how to respond. Something about the way he said it—so simple, so matter-of-fact—made my chest tight.
"Well, I don't want to talk to you. I'm still angry," I said sharply, turning my gaze back to the window. The girls who had been laughing earlier were silent now.
"You need to stay away from Him," Striker said suddenly, his tone low but insistent.
That caught my attention. "What who?" I stuttered, narrowing my eyes at him.
"You need to stay away, I've seen you with the tattooed guy," he repeated, his jaw tight.
"Adam?" I asked, irritation rising in my chest. He was really grating on my nerves.
"Is that what he's calling himself now Adam? How cliche." Striker scoffed .
Fed up, I grabbed my bag and stood. So much for a quiet morning. "If you're not going to explain yourself, I'm leaving."
"Crystal, damn it! You're so damn stubborn. Wait—stop!" he called after me, but I was already heading for my car.
I had just reached the door, my keys in hand, when he caught up to me. His hand wrapped around my wrist in a firm grip, a jolt of heat flashing through me at his touch.
"Why, Crystal?" Striker's voice cracked, his frustration palpable. "Why are you ending things? I thought we were finally doing good."
I froze, blinking up at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
He didn't seem to hear me, his grip tightening as desperation filled his voice. "Yes, I made mistakes. Really bad ones. But it was for your own good, I swear. They would've—oh gods, Crystal, please! Please—"
Suddenly, the world shifted. One moment I was staring at him, his face twisted with emotion, and the next I was back in the parking lot, my head pounding.
"Crystal? Crystal, are you okay?" Striker's voice sounded distant now, muffled as if he were underwater.
The edges of my vision blurred, the headache intensifying until it felt like my skull was splitting in two. His hands were on my shoulders, shaking me gently, but I couldn't focus on his face.
"Come on, Crystal. Stay with me—"
And then the world tilted, spinning out of control, before everything went black.
My mouth felt dry, like sandpaper had lined the inside of it. It was as if I'd gone days without water. Voices drifted in and out of focus, pulling me from the fog.
"The doctor said it's just stress. Her body's still adjusting. What the hell were you doing with her, Striker? I told you to stay away from her," a voice snapped.
It was Luke. His voice carried that familiar edge, sharp and commanding. What was he doing here?
I tried to sit up, my body protesting every movement. The darkness of my room wrapped around me, thick and stifling. Still, there was a strange calm beneath it all, like the void had become my safe space.
"You should really stay away from her, Striker. This is your final warning," another voice chimed in, low and simmering with barely-contained anger. Isaac. "She's already been through so much. I swear, if it wasn't against the law, I'd have sent you straight to purgatory for this."
Purgatory?
What was going on? My legs felt weak, but I managed to swing them over the side of the bed. I leaned against the cool surface of the wall, dragging myself toward the faint murmurs coming from the living room.
"I'm sorry, I truly am," Striker's voice softened, strained with guilt. "But I couldn't—I saw her with him."
Him? My thoughts spun. Adam? Was he talking about Adam?
"She doesn't remember him," Luke said, his tone sharp with finality. "And she's been warned to stay away from strangers"
"Like that had ever stopped her," Striker scoffed, his tone sharp and cutting.
I paused, pressing my hand against the wall to steady myself. My head throbbed with a relentless ache, each step amplifying the dull pain, but I forced myself to keep going. I needed answers. The voices grew clearer as I neared the living room, Isaac's tone steady but threaded with something darker.
"She may not remember, but I can smell him around her," Striker said, his words like a knife carving through the tension.
"He even changed his name... and the way he looks," he continued, his voice lower now, filled with certainty.
"I'm sure it's him. I'm sure."
A heavy silence hung in the air, thick and suffocating, before Isaac broke it.
"I think we should tell her," he said, hesitant now, as though weighing the weight of his words.
"Tell me what?" I whispered, stepping into the doorway, my voice unsteady but firm enough to demand attention.
Both of them froze, their eyes snapping to me in unison.
But before I could take another breath, there was a swift movement—Isaac's hand flicked through the air—and everything went black again.
Darkness greeted me when I woke, my body tangled in the sheets as though I'd fought an invisible battle in my sleep. My head felt strangely light, as if a weight I hadn't realized was there had been lifted. The throbbing pain from earlier was gone, replaced by a strange clarity.
I couldn't remember.
The last thing I could piece together was Striker at the café, his warning about Adam. My chest tightened at the thought.
What was that all about?
Before I could delve too deep into my thoughts, my phone buzzed loudly on the bedside table, breaking the silence. I flinched, grabbing it instinctively.
"Spice Boy," the screen read, and I blinked in confusion.
Adam.
A rush of emotions flooded me—relief, anxiety, and something else I couldn't quite name. My thumb hovered over the answer button as my heart picked up speed.
I hit accept and brought the phone to my ear.
"Hello?" My voice came out raspier than I intended, and I cleared my throat.
"Hey," Adam's voice was warm, soft in a way that made my stomach flip. "Did I wake you?"
I glanced around the room. The blinds were half-drawn, the dim light of the day filtering in lazily. I rubbed my eyes. "No, I've been up for a bit," I lied, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The cool floor against my feet jolted me further awake.
"Good. I just... I wanted to check on you," he said, his voice laced with something I couldn't quite place. Concern? Guilt? "And, uh, see if you'd want to grab coffee with me later?"
Coffee. Simple enough, right? Casual. No big deal. But the way my heart skipped at the offer? That was definitely a big deal. My fingers tightened on the phone.
"Sure," I said, surprising even myself. My brain screamed at me to stop, to think about it, to hesitate. But the words were out.
"Okay," he said, sounding relieved. "I'll send you the details later, if that's cool."
"Yeah," I murmured. "Sure. Later. Bye."
The line went dead, and I sat there staring at the screen, the ghost of his voice lingering in my ears. For a moment, I thought about Striker again, his words at the café. Stay away from Adam.
Yet here I was, agreeing to coffee like everything was fine. Like nothing was wrong.
I tossed the phone onto the bed and buried my face in my hands. "What the hell is wrong with me?" I muttered.
An hour later, while I was doing my morning yoga and trying to piece together how I had gotten home—because Isaac wasn't here, and the entire apartment was creepily empty—a text filtered through my phone:
Coffee. One o'clock. I'll pick you up.
That was all it said. I checked the time: 6:55 AM. Where the hell was Isaac?
I adjusted myself, cutting my yoga short, and decided to investigate. Earlier, I'd knocked on his door, but there was no answer. When I checked the parking station, his keys weren't there—and neither were mine. Odd. So, I texted him: "Could you give me Striker's number? I want to ask about my car."
No reply. Fantastic. Well, at least Adam was picking me up later.
I made my way into Isaac's room. It was set up the same as mine, except books and journals were stacked everywhere. Papers were scattered across his desk and floor—some about business, others... not so much. Titles like "How to Cast Out a Demon" and "Spiritual Warfare Basics" caught my eye. He had a Bible and what looked like an old spellbook tucked in the corner. Huh. Guess Isaac was way more into this magic stuff than I thought.
I stepped around the chaos, trying not to trip, when something glinted in the corner of my eye. Gold.
I froze. Slowly, I moved toward it, my mind yelling, Don't! but my body ignored the warning.
It was a necklace. The exact same one Adam had shown me. The one I'd worn before I lost my memory.
What the hell was it doing here?
I remembered coming back home after searching our parents' house for the necklace and asking Isaac about it. His answer had been clear:
"You've never worn a gold necklace. Why do you ask?"
"Nothing important," I had said.
So why was it here, in his room? My eyes traced the inscription on the pendant—A "What are you doing?"
I jumped, shoving the necklace behind my back as Isaac appeared in the doorway.
"N-nothing!" I stammered, slipping the necklace into my pocket.
"I knocked earlier, but you didn't answer—so, um, I was looking for you."
"I told you not to come into my room without permission," he said, brushing past me as he removed his cap. "I have stuff."
Stuff? Sure, Isaac. Stuff.
"Where were you?" I asked, trying to sound casual. My pulse was racing. "I called and texted you."
"I was busy," he replied, tossing his jacket onto the bed. "Remember? You told me I had to get your car. Just brought it with Striker."
Oh. Right. That sounded... reasonable.
Isaac started unbuckling his belt, waving a hand dismissively. "Hello? Get out!"
"Um, sorry! Thank you! Later—bye!" I squeaked, darting out of the room like a guilty kid caught raiding the cookie jar.
My heart was pounding as I leaned against the wall in the hallway, my fingers still curled around the necklace in my pocket.
Why did Isaac have it? And why had he lied?
I darted into my room, my hand still buried deep in my pocket. My heart was pounding, each beat thudding in my chest as I pulled out the necklace. The gold shimmered faintly in the light, the inscription mocking me with its secrets.
I grabbed my phone with shaky fingers, scrolling through my contacts until I found Adam's name. Without hesitating, I typed:
Change of plans. I'll meet you at the place we first met.
Seconds later, a reply popped up:
Okay.
Good. That place had more privacy, and privacy was exactly what I needed right now.
Privacy was good. Privacy was safe.
Five hours later, I was in my car, the air sharp with the evening chill. His leather jacket hung around my shoulders like a shield, warm but heavy, while the necklace in my bag seemed to thrum like a living thing. My head swirled with questions, each one louder and more insistent than the last.
Why had Isaac lied? Why did Adam feel like the only one who could tell me the truth? And why, for the love of all things sane, was my body reacting like a middle school crush every time I thought about him?
The lake was eerily quiet when I arrived. His truck was parked in the usual spot, the dark tint of the windows making it impossible to see inside. I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and stepped out into the crisp air.
My boots crunched against the dried leaves, each step echoing in my chest like a drumbeat. I had questions—so many questions. But as I stepped into the clearing, they all evaporated like mist.
He was there, sprawled out on the ground, his body relaxed as he stared up at the sky. His messy hair framed his face, his dark strands catching the late afternoon light. He looked... peaceful, like he carried the weight of serenity itself.
And me? I felt like I was seeing peace for the first time in my chaotic life.
He must have heard me because his eyes slowly opened, those piercing blue eyes lazily tracking my approach. My breath hitched, and my body flushed with heat as his gaze landed on me.
"Hey," he said, his voice low and raspy.
His gaze pinned me in place, and suddenly I was moving, running.
What the hell are you doing, Crystal?
But I couldn't stop.
I must have been tired. I must have felt frustrated because that's why I lost it and I ran to him, my feet crunching over dry leaves, and before I knew what I was doing, I flung myself into his arms.
My legs wrapped around his waist, my body pressed flush against his. I didn't even think; I just wanted to be close to him, to feel him against me. My body betrayed me, the grind of my hips almost instinctive.
For a split second, Adam froze, his hands hovering awkwardly at my sides. Then he steadied me, his touch warm and firm.
"Hey, hey, princess are you okay?," Adam murmured, his voice calm but filled with concern.
That's when my brain caught up with my body.
What. The. Hell.
I unwrapped myself from him so fast it was like I'd been electrocuted, landing on the ground with a graceless thud.
"Oh my God," I stammered, scrambling to my feet. "I—I don't know what that was. I think I short-circuited or something. Like, brain malfunction. Do you ever have those?"
Adam chuckled, brushing off his jeans. "Not quite like that, no."
I glared at him, heat creeping up my neck. "Well, congratulations, you just witnessed my first public meltdown. Hope you enjoyed the show."
"Can't say I didn't," he said, smirking as he leaned against a tree.
Ugh. Of course, he was enjoying this.
Desperate to shift the conversation, I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head.
"Did we ever have sex?"
Silence.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, mortified. Why couldn't I just think before speaking for once in my life? That wasn't what I wanted to tell him. I wanted to say "oh hey i found necklace"
Adam looked shocked for a moment, then his lips pulled into a devilish smirk. "Yeah," he said, his voice low and casual. "We were having sex."
Oh, wow.
"And let me tell you," he continued, stepping closer, "we didn't hold back."
My heart pounded in my chest as he closed the distance between us.
"Your car," he said, his voice dipping lower. "My car. Here, in the water."
I took a step back, but my legs felt like jelly.
"Your room, my apartment, even the break room at your old job," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "We couldn't keep our hands off each other."
His words dripped with heat, and my body betrayed me again, leaning into him like it had a mind of its own.
My skin burned, and I hated myself for how much I wanted him right now, even if I didn't remember him.
Adam's laughter lingered in the crisp air as I took a step back, desperate to reclaim some semblance of control. I clutched my bag, the necklace inside feeling like a ticking time bomb. This wasn't what I came here for—flirting with Adam wasn't on my to-do list.
"Stop," I whispered, but my voice lacked conviction.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, his blue eyes searching mine. "You're the one who asked, princess," he said, his smirk returning.
My mind screamed at me to say something witty, something clever, but all I could do was stare, my heart hammering in my chest.
"Let me guess," he added, his smirk turning downright wicked. "You're picturing it now, aren't you?"
"Absolutely not!" I snapped, but my voice cracked, ruining the effect.
He laughed, the sound rich and infuriatingly charming. "You're cute when you're flustered, you know that?"
"Yeah, well, you're annoying when you're smug," I shot back, crossing my arms and glaring at him.
Adam just smiled, leaning casually against the tree again. "Still worth it."
And damn it, I hated how much I liked him right then.
"Listen," I said, taking a deep breath and trying to keep my voice steady. "I didn't ask you here to rehash some—some imaginary highlight reel of our alleged sex life."
"Alleged?" Adam arched an eyebrow, looking entirely too amused.
"Yes, alleged," I snapped, ignoring the heat creeping up my neck. "What I did come, here for was answers."
Adam crossed his arms, his teasing demeanor softening just slightly. "Alright," he said, his tone more serious now. "What do you want to know?"
I hesitated, my grip tightening on my bag. "This," I said finally, pulling out the necklace and holding it up for him to see. The gold glinted in the fading light, the inscription catching the last rays of the sun.
"You found it," Adam said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Where?"
I paused, debating how much to say. Finally, I exhaled, my voice shaking slightly.
"I know you told me I kept you a secret from my family, but I need to know why. Please—tell me why I feel like I'm losing my mind."
Adam's gaze softened for a moment before hardening again. "Why, huh?" He leaned back slightly, putting some distance between us, and suddenly, I could breathe again.
"When David came to pick me up, he looked at you like he knew you," I blurted out. "Back at the bus stop that day." I inhaled shakily. "And Striker—he told me to stay away from you."
The second I mentioned Striker, something flickered across Adam's face—a flash of something dark and unreadable—before his expression settled back into that same smug, handsome mask.
"You know Striker," he said flatly, almost as if talking to himself. Then he fixed me with that piercing gaze.
"Tell me—why would he say that? What's going on?" I looked at him, the necklace burning warm within my hand.
Adam sighed heavily, his fingers brushing through his hair. "You broke up with him for me."
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
"What?" I blinked, my voice barely a whisper. "Why?"
"Tell me I didn't... start seeing you while I was still in a relationship." My chest tightened at the thought.
"No, no," Adam said quickly. "We met while you were still dating, but you broke up with him the next day."
"The next day? The next day?" I repeated, disbelief flooding my voice. "That seems a little fast—even for her." me.
Adam sighed again and looked at me but didn't say anything , this time dragging his hand down his face. "Yeah, it was fast.
But, princess... It was like time stopped for a moment when we met. Like nothing else mattered except you and me." His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "I could take whatever came with being with you—pain, trouble, chaos—because it was worth it. But then..." He trailed off, the sky above us dimming into twilight. "Then you had the accident and lost your memory."
I looked away, my hands trembling as I gripped the necklace tighter. "I asked Isaac about this necklace," I said, my voice quiet. "He told me I never wore one like this."
Adam's lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tightening.
"Why would he lie to me?" I asked, more to myself than him. "If we were so in love, Isaac would've wanted my happiness more than anything. So why would he—"
"That," Adam said, his voice cutting through the air, "is the real question, isn't it?"
I stared at him, my frustration bubbling over. "Stop talking in circles, Adam. What's going on? Why does it feel like everyone around me knows something I don't?"
Adam stepped closer, his gaze boring into mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. "Because they do," he said simply.
"Care to elaborate?" I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
He shook his head, his expression shadowed by regret. "It's not that simple, princess. Some things... you're better off not knowing."
"Don't call me that," I snapped, my irritation sparking again.
"What?" He tilted his head, a faint smirk returning. "Princess? You used to love it."
"Well, I don't now," I said, shoving the necklace back into my bag. "And I'm not leaving here until you give me something real, Adam. No games, no cryptic nonsense. Just the truth."
He studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.
"The truth," he said softly, "is that you're not ready for it."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand, stopping me.
"I'm serious," he said. "There are pieces of your life—of you—that you don't remember. And until you do, anything I say will just sound like a lie. Or worse, it'll make things more dangerous for you."
"Dangerous?" I repeated, my stomach twisting into knots. "What do you mean, dangerous?"
Adam hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly toward the lake before settling back on me. "You're already in deep, Crystal," he said, his voice quieter now. "Deeper than you realize. And if you're not careful..." His eyes softened, a rare moment of vulnerability. "You'll drown."
I stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, leaving me hollow. "You're really not going to tell me, are you?"
"No," he said, his voice both firm and gentle. "Not yet."
I clenched my fists, fighting back the urge to scream. But something about his expression—the sadness, the weight he carried—made my anger falter.
"Fine," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "But don't think this is over."
Adam smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Wouldn't dream of it."
And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there alone, the necklace in my hand burning like a brand.
I didn't know what the truth was, but one thing was clear—I was going to find out.