She tried not to cry.
It didn’t help. Her reflection mocked her. Every sob perfectly mirrored, every flinch exaggerated into something pouty and wet-lipped. While her cheeks were soaked with tears, the other her’s cheeks were bone dry.
Chelsea slammed her fist against the mirror, but it was useless. The mirror was seemingly unbreakable. At least from the side she was now on.
“No,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “You don’t get to win. You’re not me.”
The reflection tilted her head. She looked exactly like Chelsea had three nights ago, just after the last change. Her blonde hair cascading over smooth shoulders. Her nipples poking against the silk robe. Her body youthful and supple.
But the eyes weren’t Chelsea’s anymore. In truth, they hadn’t been for a while.
This can’t be happening. It’s just a mirror. It’s just a stupid mirror.
But Chelsea was trapped inside it now.
The room around her looked distant, foggy, like she was watching it through dirty glass. She saw her reflection, her body, step closer to the vanity. Her hands moved smoothly, touching up her lip gloss.
Her body smiled in the mirror. “You look so much better this way,” it said aloud.
Chelsea blinked. Her mouth hadn’t moved. God. That’s not even my voice anymore.
“You wanted his body,” the reflection said, dragging a finger down her exposed cleavage. “To be beautiful was your desire.”
I didn’t want to be invisible. I just wanted to be seen. Not… like this.
“You begged to be seen,” her body laughed. “And now I am. Everyone sees me now. They want me. They ache for me.”
The body turned toward the mirror.
“Don’t worry,” her reflection purred. “You’ll still be part of this. I’ll make sure you get to watch from time to time.”
She stepped even closer and Chelsea could feel her pulling.
Her reflection moaned softly. “Mmm. That’s the best part. That resistance. That guilt. It tastes like sex and shame and everything you never let yourself feel.”
Chelsea screamed, but it didn’t permeate into the real world. The glass muffled it.
The woman turned away into the room and smoothed down her robe. Her phone buzzed on the vanity.
Hey babe. You up?
She smiled, thumbs already typing.
Very. Come over. I can’t wait to see you. To feel you.
She turned toward the mirror and checked her hair one last time. Her smile curved with perfect control.
Chelsea, trapped behind the glass, couldn’t do anything.
The reflection winked at her, “Showtime.”
Then walked out the door.
Most people didn’t remember when the store appeared.
It wasn’t there, and then it was, tucked between a massage studio with blackout windows and a cash-for-gold place that hadn’t updated its signage since 2009.
You could almost miss it except for the curved sign above the dark-wood double doors: Wantful Things.
Inside, the store was cool, quiet, and seemed far too big for the building it occupied. The walls of the store were Velvet-lined and framed dozens of alcoves, each lit by a single warm bulb. The middle of the store was occupied by tables piled with all sorts of antiques. One person’s junk and all that.
The store was quiet, quaint, and inviting.
And there, behind a dark mahogany counter, sat Auntie Desiree with a smile on her face, like always.
She was an odd woman and was hard to truly describe. To some she looked older, to others she looked younger. But she was always well dressed and smiling. The people from the town always said they found her to be nice and warm.
Most people would just enter the store to browse and leave a few moments later. But every now and then, someone would spot a certain something. Something that rang true to themselves in a way that was hard to describe. Something they simply could not live without.
“This one’s calling to you,” she’d say, her voice honey-warm. “Go on. Touch it. See how it feels.”
Levi Jones didn’t answer right away.
He was crouched near the back wall, one hand hovering just over the old barbell set leaning against a chipped cedar chest. They had two chrome handles and twist-on weights. They had weathered leather grips worn smooth from years of use.
He knew this set. No…he remembered it.
“It’s the same kind my old man had,” he said quietly. “Back in the garage, when I was a kid. He used to lift before work. Had me spot him sometimes.”
Auntie Desiree tilted her head, smiling. “And did you?”
Levi chuckled softly. “Hell no. I could barely lift one side. But I used to try. Thought if I could curl it even once, maybe I’d stop being the skinny kid in class.”
He didn’t say the rest of it. That he used to sneak in after school and lift behind his dad’s back. That he’d stare at himself in the mirror and flex his arms, willing them to grow. That sometimes, when no one was around, he’d imagine coming back to school jacked, confident, and admired.
He reached down and wrapped one hand around the grip.
Desiree’s voice came from just behind him, close enough to feel. “Funny thing about strength, Levi. You never really know you’ve lost it until you taste it again.”
He looked up at her.
“I’m not weak,” he said.
“I didn’t say you were.”
“I just… work’s been hell lately. My shifts are long and my body’s stiff all the time. Feels like I’m aging ten years every six months.” He hesitated. “My wife says I’ve been sleeping my free time away, but I’m just so damn tired.”
Desiree nodded. “It’s a vicious cycle.”
Levi blinked. “That some kind of sales tactic?”
“I don’t sell anything here,” she said smiling. “That set’s yours, if you really want it.”
He looked down.
“Won’t fit in the car,” he muttered, standing up.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said, already stepping back toward the counter. “We can have them delivered.”
Levi lingered for a moment longer. He looked down at his callused hands and then back at the dumbbells.
And for the first time in a long while, he imagined what it would feel like to stand in front of Danielle shirtless… not soft and apologetic, but proud.
He walked up to the counter.
“Do you really want them, Levi?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied, handing over a modest sum of money.
“Enjoy them,” she said. “And remember” her voice dipped a little lower, more intimate, “you deserve to feel like yourself again.”
Levi pulled into the driveway just after seven. Headlights caught on the garage door before they dipped low. The sky was dark already. He’d worked late again.
The front door was unlocked. Danielle always left it open when she knew he was coming straight home.
Inside, the kitchen light was on. The house smelled like garlic and butter.
He dropped his boots near the door and walked in quietly.
Danielle stood at the stove, her robe loose around her shoulders. Her hair was in a messy bun. She looked tired, but warm. Her favorite playlist played low from the speaker on the counter.
She turned when she heard him and smiled.
“Hey,” she said, eyes soft. “You’re home late.”
“Yeah,” he said, stepping over to kiss her. “Larry called out. I stayed to cover the last hour.”
She leaned into the kiss, then pulled away just enough to talk. “You must be starving. I made that lemon pasta you like.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
He sat at the table while she plated the food. When she joined him, she slid a glass of water his way and tapped her fingers lightly against the edge of the plate.
“Something showed up today,” she said after a few bites.
Levi looked up.
“That barbell set,” she said. “The one you said you bought the other day.”
Levi paused. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Came in a big crate. Delivery guy looked like he was ready to pass out,” she said with a quiet laugh. “I had them put it in the garage.”
He nodded slowly.
“I think it’s great,” she added, tone soft but careful. “That you’re doing something for yourself.”
Levi chewed and swallowed his bite of pasta. “I’ve been meaning to.”
“I know,” she said, reaching for his hand across the table. “You’ve just been so wiped lately.”
“I’ll get it back,” he said.
She squeezed his fingers. “I know you will. Just… be gentle with yourself, okay?”
There was a pause. Not long. Just enough to let something unspoken settle between them.
“I worry about you,” she said finally.
“I know.”
“I mean… you’ve just seemed distant. More tired than usual. You don’t laugh the way you used to.”
Levi looked down at his plate and then gave her a warm smile. “I’m trying. I’ll do better.”
“I know,” she said again. “I just miss you when you’re like this.”
He nodded, didn’t say anything for a while.
Danielle stood up, gave him a sweet kiss on the forehead, and brought their plates to the sink.
The garage door creaked open and Levi stepped out, wiping sweat from his neck with an old dish towel. His chest was bare, still glistening, the towel slung over one shoulder. His joggers clung low to his hips and his waistband was damp.
Danielle was sitting on the back steps with a glass of iced tea, one knee pulled to her chest. She looked up as he crossed the yard toward her.
Her eyes moved slowly over him.
“Jesus,” she said with a grin. “Who the hell are you?”
Levi smirked. “Just some random man. Nobody important, really. Do you think the lady of the house would want to see me?”
“Mmm, debatable,” she said, standing as he got closer. “You’re starting to look like one of those guys on the gym posters.”
He let out a short breath, laughing. “Yeah, well. Posters don’t have sore knees.”
She reached out and ran her fingers lightly along his stomach, tracing the new definition there. The fat that had hung soft just a week ago had started to tighten into something firmer.
“I can feel it,” she said, her touch playful now. “Look at this. You’re getting those lines again. And your shoulders…”
“Too much?” he asked.
Danielle shook her head. “Are you kidding? You look amazing. I’m not complaining.”
He stepped closer. Her hand slid up his chest, palm pressed to the warmth of his skin.
“You feel amazing too,” she said softly.
Levi leaned in and kissed her, slow and easy. Her fingers curled around his waist.
“I like seeing you like this,” she murmured. “You’ve got this… I don’t know. Spark again.”
He looked down at her, flushed but smiling. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “You’re sleeping better. You’re eating again. And you’re hot. So. Win-win.”
He laughed, the sound low in his throat. “Maybe I’ll keep at it, then.”
“Please do.”
They stood like that for a long moment. The sun was almost down, and the sky had gone that deep, soft blue. There were cicadas in the trees, humming slow and lazy.
Danielle kissed him again, quick and warm. “I’ll grab us a couple beers. Meet you on the porch?”
“Perfect,” he said, wiping his face again with the towel as she walked inside.
Autumn pushed open the shop door and let out a low whistle.
“Okay, this place is a vibe,” she said, stepping inside.
Bailey followed behind her, sunglasses perched on her head, arms crossed. “Looks like my grandma’s attic.”
“It’s cute,” Autumn said, already weaving between the tables. “Kinda cozy. Mysterious.”
They were supposed to be killing time between classes. Their usual coffee spot was packed, and the library felt too quiet. Neither of them had noticed this place before.
Autumn glanced at the wall displays. Velvet-lined alcoves, each holding a single item. Weird old stuff. Typewriters. Pocket watches. A perfume bottle with a feathered atomizer. Everything looked like it belonged in an old movie set.
Her long ponytail bounced as she moved. Her lip gloss still caught the light under the dim bulbs. She was the kind of girl people noticed. The kind who got called pretty in passing even when she wasn’t trying. And she really wasn’t trying today. She was just wearing leggings, her cheer hoodie, and a swipe of mascara. Still, she looked effortlessly perfect.
“You’re not seriously gonna buy anything,” Bailey muttered.
“Just looking.”
Bailey snorted. “You can’t even afford your Econ textbook.”
Autumn rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me. If I don’t pull up my Econ grade, I might not be able to cheer next semester.”
She stopped near one of the back tables. Resting on a folded piece of deep blue cloth sat a small pair of reading glasses.
Autumn blinked.
“Ugh,” she muttered, rubbing at her eyes.
Bailey looked over. “What?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been having trouble seeing the board lately. Especially in that giant-ass lecture hall. I think I need glasses or something.”
Bailey smirked. “Maybe if you sat in the front row instead of flirting with Jonah.”
“Shut up,” Autumn said, already reaching for the glasses. She lifted them gently.
She slid them onto her face and everything sharpened.
It was like the shop around her clicked into clarity. Even Bailey looked clearer somehow. Her face, her smirk, the tiny thread coming loose on her sleeve.
Autumn blinked.
“Whoa.”
Bailey raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“I can actually see. Like, see see.”
“They’re probably fake.”
Autumn looked around again. The wooden grain in the counter. The texture of the velvet. The lettering on the sign across the street, visible through the front window.
“I’m serious,” she said. “This is freaky.”
A woman stepped forward from behind the counter. Long skirt, soft smile.
“If they help,” she said, “they’re meant to.”
Autumn looked at her. “Do you guys take Apple Pay?”
The woman nodded. “We do.”
Autumn didn’t hesitate. “Then I’m buying these.”
The bell above the door chimed as Autumn stepped out onto the sidewalk, the glasses still perched on her nose.
Bailey followed, tossing her hair into a loose ponytail. “You seriously just impulse-bought reading glasses.”
Autumn grinned. “I can see, okay? Like, actually see. Look at that sign across the street. That says ‘Trophy City.’ I thought it said ‘Taco City’ all semester.”
Bailey rolled her eyes. “Still not gonna pass Econ.”
“Maybe,” Autumn said, adjusting the delicate gold frames. “But at least I’ll be able to see what the professor is presenting now.”
They crossed the parking lot toward the main street. A breeze kicked up, warm for late afternoon. Autumn blinked again at the sharpness of it all. She could see the outlines of cars, the clean serif font on the bus stop schedule, the tiny scratch in Bailey’s phone case.
Across the street, near the corner where the vape shop met the smoothie place, a blonde woman was laughing. She was draped over some guy’s arm like candy. Her clothes were tight and revealing.
“Is that your mom’s friend?” Bailey asked.
“Chelsea,” Autumn said. “I think. “I mean, it kind of looks like her. But…”
“But Chelsea doesn’t dress like she’s about to star in a cheap porno.”
“Exactly.”
The guy she was with leaned in to whisper something. Chelsea laughed again and pressed her body against him, her hands slipping under his shirt not caring who saw.
Bailey blinked. “God. Is she okay?”
Autumn adjusted the glasses again, watching as Chelsea sauntered toward a waiting car, her body swaying like she wanted the attention.
“I guess so,” Autumn muttered. “I’ll talk to my mom about it later.”
Autumn and Bailey continued on as they turned the corner and headed back toward campus.
Danielle was finishing up dishes when the back door opened.
Levi stepped in, wiping his hands on a shop towel, his shoulders broad enough to fill the doorway. He didn’t say anything. He just walked over, set the towel on the counter, and kissed her neck.
She leaned into it, eyes fluttering. “Hey you.”
He rested a hand on her hip. “Hey.”
“You smell like grease,” she murmured, smiling.
He smirked. “Better than last week.”
She turned to face him. He hadn’t shaved in a few days. The beard suited him. Thicker along his jaw now, rugged. His arms were still warm from the garage and visibly pumped. The sleeves of his old work shirt clung to his biceps like they’d shrunk in the wash.
“Is it me,” she said, brushing a hand across his chest, “or are you getting hotter by the day?”
Levi grinned. “It’s not you.”
She laughed. “Cocky.”
He shrugged, stepping in closer, hand still firm on her hip. “Got a raise today.”
Her brows lifted. “Wait, really?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Went into Darryl’s office and asked for it. Told him I’ve been carrying twice the load since February.”
Danielle blinked. “You asked?”
Levi nodded. “Didn’t ask, actually. Told him. And guess what. He said he’d been thinking the same thing. Said I’ve stepped up.”
Danielle stared at him for a second, then grinned. “God. Who are you?”
“Just me,” he said, kissing her again. “Finally showing up like I should’ve been.”
Her hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips grazing the ridges of his stomach. Abs. He has actual abs now.
“Keep this up,” she murmured, “and I’m gonna start bragging about you to everyone at work.”
“You don’t already?”
She laughed. “Not like this.”
He looked down at her, eyes darker than they used to be. “Let’s eat outside,” he said. “I’ll grill.”
“You sure?”
“I want to,” he replied.
But first he lifted her up onto the counter. She giggled as he kissed her again, slower this time.
Danielle leaned in for more, but he backed away.
“Gotta make dinner,” he teased. “Keep yourself warm for me.”
She watched him walk to the fridge, grab the steaks, and head out back, shoulders broad under the faded shirt. Her heart fluttered, low and steady.
Autumn came down the lecture hall steps two at a time, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. She pulled her hoodie tighter around her shoulders as she stepped outside into the late morning sun.
She spotted Bailey near the bike racks, leaning against the concrete barrier and scrolling her phone.
“Hey!” Autumn called.
Bailey looked up and smirked. “You’re chipper.”
Autumn laughed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I killed that test. Like, actually knew what I was doing for once.”
Bailey gave her a slow look. “Yeah? Damn. Maybe I should’ve borrowed those magic glasses of yours.”
Autumn tapped the rim of her glasses. “Don’t mock the miracle specs.”
“I’m not! I’m serious. You’re definitely understanding the material better.”
Autumn smiled, but Bailey’s eyes lingered a little longer.
“You, uh… doing something different with your hair?” she asked, tone casual.
Autumn blinked. “No? Why?”
Bailey shrugged. “Nothing. Maybe just the light.”
Autumn reached up and touched it self-consciously.
Bailey narrowed her eyes. “And girl, what is that?” She pointed toward Autumn’s chin.
“What?” Autumn reached up and groaned. “Ugh. Don’t say pimple. I swear it wasn’t there this morning.”
Bailey laughed. “It’s almost like you’re human. Welcome to the world we all live in.”
Autumn rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Glad I’ve been downgraded to mortal status.”
“Come on,” Bailey prompted. “Let’s go get a celebratory latte.”
Autumn fell into step beside her, the glasses perched neatly on her face. She could read the coffee shop sign from across the quad without squinting. A few weeks ago, that would’ve been a blur.
“You’re on,” Autumn replied. “I’ll even buy.”
Autumn pushed open the glass door, letting the little bell above it jingle as she and Bailey stepped inside. The space was half-lit and warm, full of muted wood tones and hand-written chalkboard menus. Sustainable, fair trade, proudly local. Just like always.
Bailey sniffed the air. “This place smells like coffee heaven.”
Autumn smirked. “It always smells like this.”
“I said what I said,” Bailey retorted.
They stepped in line, already scanning the shelves for the vegan brownies they both pretended not to love. Near the big front window, sunlight poured through the glass and spilled across the usual jungle of hanging plants and reused mason jars.
And there, tucked in the corner, was Tori Barnes.
Tori had her legs folded up in the chair, a mug balanced on the ledge behind her. She was painting, her brush moving in slow, fluid strokes. Her afro was pinned back with a patterned scarf, and she wore a charcoal-grey cardigan rolled up to her elbows, flecks of dried paint dotting her hands.
Her watercolor set was an old metal tin and sat open beside her.
Autumn nudged Bailey. “There’s Tori.”
Bailey looked over and nodded. “She’s always painting something. Does she ever work?”
“She paints on her breaks,” Autumn said. “She’s super sweet.”
Tori glanced up, eyes lighting when she saw them. “Hey! I was wondering if you two were gonna wander in.”
Autumn grinned. “Right on schedule.”
“You guys want your usual?”
“We’ll order in a sec,” Bailey said, but her eyes were on the painting. “Holy crap. That’s… is that yours?”
Tori turned the pad slightly. “Yeah. Started it this morning.”
It was a woman’s profile, emerging from a blur of warm tones with sunset reds, soft golds, dusky purples. Her expression was wistful, her lips parted slightly like she was about to speak. The eyes were the most engaging part. They were soft, glassy, and full of emotional weight. Like she knew something you didn’t.
“It’s gorgeous,” Autumn said, stepping closer. “Like, really gorgeous.”
Tori laughed under her breath. “It’s this new kit. I picked it up a few days ago at some antique place.”
Autumn raised a brow. “Let me guess. Wantful Things?”
Tori’s eyes widened. “Yes! You know it?”
Autumn pointed at her face. “Glasses. From the mirror in the back.”
Tori looked impressed. “Okay, I thought I was crazy. I wasn’t even looking for paint stuff, but something about the kit just called to me.”
Bailey crossed her arms. “That place is cool, in a creepy old kind of way.”
Tori smiled faintly. “I’m not complaining. This is the first time my art’s felt… I don’t know. Like I didn’t have to struggle to make it. Like it just flows out of me.”
Autumn nodded, still looking at the painting. “You’ve shown before, right?”
“Not really,” Tori said. “People say it’s too abstract. What they really meant is that it isn’t very good.”
“Well, they’re wrong,” Autumn said. “This is amazing.”
Tori glanced at the painting again, a bit of pride flickering in her expression. “Thank you.”
Bailey rolled her eyes and pointed toward the counter. “Let’s go. Your caffeine window’s closing.”
Autumn backed away slowly, still looking at the woman in the painting. “It’s stunning,” she said again.
Tori dipped her brush into the water jar, smiling to herself. “Thanks.”
Tori watched them walk away, their laughter fading into the hum of the café. She dipped her brush again, swirling it lightly in the little ceramic water jar. The pigment bled outward in delicate ribbons, soft and fluid.
The sunlight shifted across the table, catching the edge of her metal tin. It looked old, like it had seen a hundred owners before her, but the paint was vibrant and new.
She exhaled slowly and turned her attention back to the painting.
The woman in the portrait’s mouth was fuller now, the shape of her jaw more defined. The light in her eyes sharper. Tori didn’t remember painting that detail… but she must have.
She added a few more strokes that burnished orange in the background, curling down into something suggestive of fabric. It was intuitive.
For her, art was always an escape. Just a way to funnel her emotions. But it was also a labor of love. Today, the art just came effortlessly.
She smiled softly. It would be nice if Autumn was right and if people noticed her paintings. She thought of all the attention she could draw to important social issues. That would be nice.
Still, she rubbed her fingers together and flexed them before getting back to work.
Danielle’s breath caught as Levi pounded her. Her moans mixed with his grunts in some kind of rhythmic pattern.
His hands were rough and sure, his body heavy with heat. She could feel the strength in his body with every thrust..
“Oh…my….god” she panted. “Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”
Levi looked down at her, a smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “You like that?”
She nodded, breathless. “You’re filling me up. Ugh. So…big.”
His lips found the spot just below her collarbone, and she gasped, arching toward him.
She pulled him further into her. “Where have you been hiding?”
Levi didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
He moved with confidence now. There was a gravity to him, a magnetism she hadn’t felt in years. It pulled her in, deep and unthinking, until the rest of the world faded entirely.
“Take it,” he roared. “Take it all.”
“Yes!” she screamed. “Give it to me.”
Danielle’s body started quivering as she came, but Levi didn’t stop. He continued to pound her, grunting.
“You want it?” he said with a guttural rasp. “Say you’re my slut.”
“Wha?” She looked surprised. Levi had never talked to her like this.
“You heard me,” he continued. “Say it.”
Lost in the pleasure, she nodded.
“I’m….I’m your slut,” she moaned.
“Damn right,”
Her eyes rolled back into her head as he changed his rhythm in just the right way.
She came a second time as she felt Levi explode into her.
Later, as they lay tangled in the quiet, Danielle ran her hand down his chest, her voice soft and full of wonder. “You really have changed.”
The locker room buzzed with chatter, hairspray mist, and the muffled bass of music thumping from the gym just beyond the doors. Autumn stood near one of the long mirrors, tying a ribbon into her ponytail with practiced fingers. Her glasses slid down her nose, and she pushed them back up with a sigh.
Bailey looked up from adjusting her own uniform and frowned. “You’re seriously going out there with those on?”
Autumn blinked at her. “I can’t see without them.”
“Yeah, but…” Bailey gestured. “You’re gonna be doing stunts. What if they fall off?”
Autumn opened her locker and pulled out her warm-up jacket. “I know. I’ll have to be careful. But seriously, Bailey, it’s not a choice. I can’t even read the scoreboard from here without them.”
Bailey tilted her head. “Didn’t you just start needing them, like, two weeks ago?”
Autumn paused, her hand resting on the locker door. “Yeah. But it’s gotten worse. Like… fast.”
Bailey raised a brow. “That’s weird.”
Autumn pulled her jacket on and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair looked less tamed today as she wasn’t able to get her curls under control. Plus the color was less golden and more brown. Her skin had a tiny flare-up near her temple, and the thick-rimmed glasses gave her more of a “late-night-study” vibe than the glow she was used to projecting.
“I don’t care,” Autumn said finally. “If I can’t see, I can’t cheer. Glasses stay.”
Bailey shrugged. “Fair enough. Just don’t forget to take them off for pictures.”
Autumn smiled faintly, grabbing her water bottle. “Deal.”
From outside the gym doors, a whistle blew. Their coach’s voice echoed faintly.
“That’s us,” Bailey said. “Let’s go, nerd.”
Autumn rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “I pass a couple of tests and now I’m a nerd? You just wish you were half this smart.”
They jogged out together, ponytails bouncing in unison, but only one of them needed to blink through smudged lenses.
The door swung open with a clatter as Bailey helped Autumn hobble inside, one arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Autumn’s face was scrunched in pain as they shuffled toward the bench near the wall of lockers.
“Easy, easy,” Bailey said, easing her down gently. “You’re lucky Coach didn’t see you fall. She would’ve freaked.”
Autumn winced as she sat, pulling her leg up carefully. Her sock was already starting to stretch where the swelling in her ankle was pushing against it.
“I didn’t land right,” she muttered. “I don’t know what happened.”
“You always land right,” Bailey said, crouching in front of her. “You’ve hit that back handspring a hundred times.”
Autumn nodded, but her brow was furrowed. “It was like… I couldn’t track the floor for a second. Everything blurred and I just… guessed.”
Bailey glanced up at her glasses, now crooked on her nose. “Are you sure it’s not those? Maybe they slipped.”
“I don’t think so,” Autumn whispered. “I just felt … off. Like I was half a second behind.”
Bailey didn’t have an answer to that. She stood, brushing her hands on her skirt. “You need to ice that ASAP.”
Autumn leaned back against the cool tile wall, breathing through her nose. “I’ll be fine. Just need a minute.”
Bailey hesitated, glancing back toward the gym doors where the music had kicked up again. “I’ve gotta get back out there. Coach’ll kill me if I miss the pyramid.”
“Go,” Autumn said, waving her off. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Bailey lingered a second longer, then jogged out with a final, worried look over her shoulder.
Alone, Autumn pressed the back of her head against the wall. Her ankle throbbed. She adjusted her glasses, blinking slowly.
Something wasn’t right.
The café was quieter than usual, bathed in the golden hush of late afternoon. Sunlight poured through the high windows and slanted across the tables, turning the wooden floors into warm honey. A few regulars were tucked into corners with laptops or paperbacks, and the soft hum of acoustic guitar floated from the speakers overhead.
Tori was in her usual spot at a corner table by the window near the front, surrounded by a small clutter of brushes, crumpled napkins, and a chipped ceramic water cup. Her watercolor pad was tilted toward the light, and a half-finished landscape bloomed across the page. It was of rolling hills under soft clouds, a winding stream that shimmered in pale blue.
She barely blinked as her brush swept another stroke of warm green across the trees.
The metal watercolor tin sat open beside her, the paints worn in unusual patterns. Her lips were pressed together in concentration, head tilted just slightly as if listening to something no one else could hear.
“Tori.”
She didn’t respond at first.
“Tori.” Louder this time, but not unkind.
She looked up slowly with an annoyed expression.
Mark, the café’s owner, was standing a few feet away. He wore his usual flannel shirt rolled up at the sleeves, an apron dusted with flour, and a polite but tired smile.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but we’ve got a bit of a backlog. Any chance you can jump in for a few minutes?”
Tori blinked at him, as if the words were distant. Then her eyes flicked to the pad in front of her. “I’m almost done with this section,” she said.
Mark nodded. “I really need your help. You’re not on break anymore.”
She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze lingered on the painting, as if breaking from it might cost her something.
Then she gave a small sigh and set the brush down. “Fine. Okay.”
Mark offered a brief smile of thanks and turned back toward the counter. Tori capped her paints slowly, eyes drifting once more across the landscape she’d created.
The stream in the painting sparkled faintly where the light hit it. The trees looked like they’d been touched by a real breeze.
She gathered her things, not hurried, and finally rose from her chair. As she moved, a few customers glanced over. One young woman whispered something to her friend, gesturing toward the painting.
She liked the attention they were giving her. It made her feel special in a way she never did before. Maybe even Josh, the guy from the gallery she liked to visit, would remember her name for once.
She smiled at the thought and begrudgingly went back to work.
The kitchen smelled like garlic and roasted vegetables. Danielle stood at the stove, flipping something in the skillet while soft music played from her phone on the counter.
Levi came in from the garage, wiping his hands on a towel. His shoulders filled the doorway now. He was shirtless under a half-zipped hoodie, and his beard had grown thick around his jaw.
“Smells good,” he said, voice lower than usual.
She leaned back into him briefly. “Roasted squash and those fake meat things you said you don’t hate.”
“Mm. Good girl,” he said, giving her a spank on the ass. “But next time use real meat.”
Danielle recoiled and turned slightly. “What?”
He was already reaching for a glass, pouring water from the pitcher in the fridge. “Nothing,” he said casually. “Just saying thanks.”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s not how someone says thanks.”
Levi didn’t look at her. “Don’t fuss. You like it when I’m confident.”
“Confident, sure. Patronizing? Not so much.”
He smirked. “Relax, babe. You’re reading too much into it.”
Danielle returned to stirring the skillet, but the smile she wore a moment ago was gone. “You’ve been acting… different lately.”
“Different how?”
She shrugged. “Just… little things. The way you talk. The way you walk into a room.”
He leaned on the counter, watching her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“I didn’t say that.” She met his eyes. “I said it’s different.”
Levi tilted his head, then stepped over to kiss her temple. “Different isn’t always bad, Dani.”
Levi held her gaze until she broke eye contact. Then he grabbed a fork, speared a roasted squash from the pan, and popped it into his mouth.
“Damn, babe.” he said. “You’re really killing it in here.”
He walked up behind her and rested one hand on her waist, the other brushing her hair off her neck. He kissed her in that spot she loved.
Danielle could smell his sweat and musk. Her body relaxed and she enjoyed the moment. She could feel his dick pressing against her backside. She was sure it was bigger than it used to be.
“Take a break, Dani,” he said. “I’m all revved up.”
Danielle turned towards him. “You’re such a sweet talker,” she said sarcastically.
“Doesn’t matter,” he stated. “You know you can’t resist the way I make you feel.”
Danielle went to protest, but instead just kind of nodded in agreement. She turned off the burner moments before he was pulling off his pants exposing his cock. It was definitely bigger.
Despite herself, her mouth watered and she dropped to her knees.
The soft hum of her desk lamp cast a warm glow over a stack of textbooks and half-scribbled notes. Autumn sat cross-legged on her bed, her foot propped up on a pillow, wrapped in an elastic brace. She wore an oversized hoodie and a pair of leggings that had seen better days, a highlighter tucked behind one ear.
Her glasses were slightly smudged, and she kept pushing them up the bridge of her nose as she read. Her hair was pulled into a loose and frizzy, the once golden strands now dulled to a mousy brown under the lamplight.
The door swung open with a sudden burst of hallway noise.
“Knock knock,” Bailey said, stepping inside with a bottle of Gatorade. “Brought you electrolytes, nerd.”
Autumn looked up. “Hey. Thanks.”
Bailey paused mid-step, taking in the sight of her friend. “Whoa. You okay?”
“Yeah. Just… ankle’s still a little sore,” Autumn said, shifting her foot slightly with a wince. “So I figured I’d get ahead on some readings.”
Bailey set the bottle down and tilted her head. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I slept,” Autumn said, scratching the side of her head. “Kinda.”
Bailey sat down on the edge of the bed and gave her a once-over. “Okay, be honest. When’s the last time you did your hair?”
Autumn snorted softly. “You mean styled it? Or just… wrangled it into submission?”
Bailey raised a brow.
“I don’t know,” Autumn admitted. “It’s just not cooperating lately. Feels like it’s doing its own thing.”
Bailey reached over and gently pulled the highlighter from Autumn’s hair. “Girl, your roots are darker. Is that just me?”
Autumn looked toward the mirror across the room, squinting. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s probably just lighting.”
Bailey didn’t answer right away. She looked down at the books. “You’ve been crushing your classes lately, though.”
“That’s the plan,” Autumn said with a tired smile. “Just trying to make the most of the downtime while my ankle heals.”
Bailey studied her friend for a beat longer, then sighed. “I get it’s probably hard being away from the squad. If you need help just say something.”
Autumn gave a soft nod, her fingers absently tugging at the hem of her sleeve. “I’m good. Really.”
Bailey didn’t quite believe it, but she let it go. “Alright. But I’m checking in again tomorrow. And if your hair tries to eat you, I will stage an intervention.”
Autumn chuckled weakly. “Deal.”
As Bailey stood to leave, Autumn glanced down at her notes. The words swam a little. She adjusted her glasses again and tried to focus, pretending everything was normal.
Tori stood behind the counter, one hand on her hip, the other absently tapping the screen of the register. Her apron was tied loosely around a crisp, fashionably oversized blouse, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off her curated bracelets. A hint of lip gloss shimmered under the café lights. She looked good, and she knew it.
Tori’s paintings lined the walls. They were impossible to ignore. Lush, vibrant landscapes and emotionally rich portraits. They practically hummed with energy. A small, handwritten card beneath each one read “Tori Barnes – Original Watercolor – For Sale.”
A group of students near the window was whispering, clearly debating if they could afford one.
Tori was annoyed by the whole situation. Her amazing art should be in a gallery, not some stupid coffee shop that only catered to vegans and dogooders. This was all so beneath her. She just had to wait it out a little longer until her online following was big enough for her to quit this stupid job.
The bell over the door jingled. Danielle and Levi walked in mid-conversation. Danielle was frowning, arms crossed, while Levi moved with swagger.
“I’m just saying,” Danielle said under her breath. “You can’t shove your boss and then act like it’s no big deal.”
“He was being a prick,” Levi replied, brushing a hand through his beard. “Guy’s been riding me for weeks. I finally pushed back. Not my fault he’s soft.”
“Levi…”
“I said I’ll figure it out,” he cut in.
They stepped up to the counter. Tori gave them a glance, flat and disinterested.
Danielle offered a weak smile. “Hey, Tori.”
“Hey,” Tori said, already pulling a cup. “Usual?”
Levi stepped up to the counter and didn’t wait for Danielle to respond.
“She’ll have a soy latte, extra hot,” he said, tapping his knuckle on the counter like he owned the place. “That’s how my girl likes it.”
Danielle shot him a look but didn’t correct him. Her hand slid up to rest lightly on his back, fingers curling there.
Tori didn’t hide her eye-roll. “Right. And for you?”
“Black coffee. No sugar. No fluff.”
She keyed in the order, saying nothing.
Levi leaned on the counter, the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up to show thick forearms. There was an earthy and masculine scent too. A girl at a corner table glanced up, locked eyes for a second too long, then quickly looked away.
Danielle noticed. She always noticed now.
Tori returned with the cups and slid them forward. She gave Levi a long look that was full of intent.
Danielle stepped forward and took the drinks, breaking the moment with a too-sweet smile. “Thanks. These look great.”
Levi let his arm settle loosely around her waist. “What can I say? I take care of my girl.”
Tori raised an eyebrow and gave Danielle a slow, almost mocking glance. “Good for you. A woman should appreciate a real man.”
Levi smirked. “Damn right.”
Danielle leaned into him slightly, pressing her body against his side. “I definitely do,” she said, looking right at Tori.
They turned to go, but as they passed the girl at the corner table, Levi slowed. “Hey,” he said with a nod.
The girl blinked in surprise, lips parting.
Danielle’s hand shot to his wrist, firm. “Come on,” she said, tugging him away.
“I’m just saying hi to the pretty lady,” Levi protested.
“If you come right now,” Danielle responded. “I’ll do that thing you like.”
“In the car?” Levi asked.
Danielle nodded in agreement.
Levi glanced down at her, amused. “Alright, alright.”
As the bell jingled behind them, Tori watched them go, trying to ignore how horny she suddenly was.
Bailey blinked as the café door closed behind Levi and Danielle, the bell above it still ringing in her ears. For a second, it was like the world had gone soft-focus. She stared at the space where Levi had been standing, her cheeks flushed and her heart skipping for reasons she didn’t want to examine too closely.
But then the fog lifted. Her eyes narrowed.
“What the hell was that?”
She looked down at her half-finished drink, barely remembering drinking it. Her thoughts snapped back into place with the clarity of someone waking from a dream. Autumn. That’s why she was here in the first place.
Autumn, with her glasses and sudden acne, her frizzed-out hair and weird bursts of academic brilliance. Autumn, limping off the cheer mat like she didn’t know where her foot was going to land.
Bailey stood, nearly knocking her chair back.
Tori, still behind the counter, glanced over. “You good?”
Bailey didn’t answer. She was already heading for the door, her sneakers slapping against the tile. She pushed outside, the late-afternoon sun hitting her full-on.
Her jaw was set. Her fingers curled tight around the strap of her bag.
Wantful Things.
Whatever was going on with Autumn, it all pointed back to that creepy antique shop.
Bailey didn’t know exactly what she was going to say when she got there, but she wasn’t walking away without answers.
The little brass bell above the door jingled as Bailey stepped into Wantful Things. She saw Auntie Desiree, standing at the counter.
“Back again so soon,” Auntie Desiree said smoothly, folding her hands atop the counter.
Bailey walked forward with purpose, her jaw tight. “I want to know what’s going on.”
Auntie tilted her head, amused. “Such urgency. Should I be concerned?”
“You tell me,” Bailey replied. “Because something’s off in this town.”
Auntie remained silent.
Bailey stepped closer. “People are changing. Mrs. Chelsea is walking around in next to nothing and acting like a harlot. Tori’s selling gallery-quality paintings in a coffee shop and acting like she’s too good for the customers. Levi looks like a hulk and lost his job for being a jerk, and Danielle’s pretending it’s fine. And Autumn…” Her voice caught a little. “She’s wearing glasses, she’s uncoordinated, and she looks like she’s been run over by finals week. And it’s not just school. I know it’s not just school.”
Auntie Desiree listened, her smile never wavering.
“I don’t know what this place is,” Bailey continued, gesturing around, “but all of them got something from here. And now they’re different.”
Bailey’s breath was shaky when she finished. “So I want the truth. What is this place?”
For a long moment, Auntie Desiree said nothing.
“This shop offers what many seek… though few understand. It provides answers to questions people didn’t know they were asking.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Bailey asked. But then she heard a sound.
It was subtle, but she recognized it. Waves.
She turned her head slightly, brows furrowing. It was unmistakable. The distant sound of surf crashing. Her eyes moved slowly, scanning the cluttered shelves until they landed on a display case near the front.
There she saw the conch shell. Pale coral pink, flecked with hints of gold, its spiral perfect. She stepped closer almost involuntarily and the ocean grew louder.
Bailey reached out, brushing her fingers over the cool, curved surface of the shell. A sudden rush of nostalgia swept through her. The salt in the air, the feel of her mother’s hand in hers, the laughter of her father chasing her through the surf.
A lump rose in her throat.
Behind her, Auntie Desiree’s voice was calm and measured.
“Sometimes, child, the world changes because we ask it to. Even when we don’t realize the asking.”
Bailey didn’t respond. She was mesmerized by the shell. She put it up to her ear and was overcome with emotion. It reminded her of joy and being free.
“So tell me,” Auntie Desiree spoke. “What is it that you want?”
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