Chapter 2: A Girl Named Melissa

After I got home, I called Jason a few more times, but still couldn’t get through. I paced my apartment, phone in hand, the gold hidden away—a secret I wasn’t sure I wanted.

Gradually, the company faded from my thoughts. Days blurred together in a haze of Netflix, frozen DiGiorno, and half-hearted job searches. The weirdness dulled, numbed by the comfort of routine.

I locked the gold in a box at the back of a drawer. Every time I grabbed socks, my eyes flicked to it. I couldn’t decide if it made me feel lucky or cursed. I told no one. With a fat severance, there was no rush to sell. It was a lucky charm—if your lucky charm could land you in jail.

With Christmas coming, I decided to wait on job hunting and just chill. The town was decked out in lights, the air thick with pine and cinnamon. I tried to enjoy it—cheesy Hallmark movies, driving past houses strung with lights, letting the world slow down.

But soon, something felt off. Not the weather—a chill that ran deeper. Every time I stepped outside, my skin prickled. That old feeling returned: someone was watching me.

I brushed it off as nerves, but it wouldn’t go away. Even inside, I found myself glancing at the window, half-expecting a face in the glass.

My hometown was mostly empty, the holiday rush still days away. You could walk three blocks down Main Street and see only a couple of old-timers scraping ice from their steps. Everyone else was gone or holed up till New Year’s.

When I went out, especially on Main, the feeling got stronger. I started taking different routes, avoiding my usual haunts. Every footstep behind me made my pulse jump.

One day, I went downstairs for coffee, and the creepy feeling was back. I jammed my hands in my coat pockets, acting casual, but my skin crawled. The bell above the door jingled as I ducked into the shop, praying for a reprieve.

My instincts have always been sharp. From the moment I left home, it felt like someone’s eyes were burning a hole in my back. Like being a kid again, walking home in the dark, convinced something’s there.

So I circled the block twice, but the sensation never left. I tied my shoes, peered in store windows, always checking—still, it clung to me.

Back in the coffee shop, I spun around—and finally caught sight of her. She was by the window, glancing up from her phone every so often, her gaze catching mine for a heartbeat. It felt like we were the only two people in the world.

She was beautiful—not just pretty, but gorgeous in a way that made me forget what I was about to say. The kind of woman you’d see in a Columbus billboard, not in sleepy Ohio. Tall, long legs, her winter coat stylish enough for a Chicago runway. Heeled boots clicked on the tiles. Every guy in the shop snuck a look.

Her hair was long and curly, her makeup flawless—enough to stand out from the sea of hoodies and ball caps. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. I racked my brain—company event? Town festival?

I hesitated, debating whether to approach. My heart hammered. Bolt or say hi? Curiosity—and maybe her smile—won out.

She strode over, closing the distance with the confidence of someone used to getting answers. “Excuse me, are you Ryan from the project company’s marketing department?” Her voice was warm, direct, with a faint city edge. She looked me straight in the eye.

I stammered. “Uh, and you are…?”

She grinned, clearly amused at my confusion. "Wow, it really is you! I wasn’t sure—I’ve been trailing you for two blocks like some kind of stalker."

I blinked. “You know me?” My voice cracked, but she just laughed.

“I’m Melissa, from property management. Don’t you remember?” She pouted dramatically, and it clicked—late nights at the sales office, her hair up, barking into a Bluetooth headset. She’d always seemed too busy to notice me.

She worked for headquarters, swooping in for project sales. The type who made everyone sit up straighter. Since our project crawled along, we’d only met a couple of times.

I apologized, embarrassed, and bought her a coffee. I nearly dropped my wallet, but managed to order two lattes. She accepted with a smile that made my heart skip.

Once we cleared up the confusion, I relaxed. The tension in my shoulders melted. She wasn’t here to yell or serve legal papers—just a familiar face. And honestly, with someone that stunning across from me, I felt a spark.

Her laugh was infectious, and when she smiled over her cup, the last few weeks of stress started to fade. We chatted. She grew up a couple neighborhoods over, went to the rival high school, and only moved back for the holidays.

Before, she only came home for Christmas, so we’d never crossed paths. Small towns are weird—you can live a mile apart and never meet.

I asked why she’d come back early—shouldn’t the company still be running? “I got laid off,” Melissa said, shrugging like it was nothing. No bitterness, just matter-of-fact.

"Didn’t your project have some incident? The whole company’s shut down. For people like me, there’s no reason to keep us."

I was surprised. I hadn’t realized how far the fallout reached. “Sorry about that, but it’s not my fault, I swear.” I raised my hands, hoping she’d laugh. She did.

She covered her mouth, then leaned in. “So what really happened at your project? The notice just said ‘engineering accident.’ Do you know what really went down?”

I was about to spill, but remembered the NDA—triple penalty. And the gold? No way. Even though I wouldn’t rat myself out, it was safer to keep quiet.

I glanced around, lowering my voice. "Who knows? We never went to the site. Maybe they just used the market as an excuse to fire us all."

Melissa’s nails tapped a nervous rhythm on her coffee cup, her smile never quite reaching her eyes. She studied my face for a beat, but let it go.

“No one at your project knows?” she pressed. I kept my poker face. “I don’t, anyway. Let’s not talk about it—it’s almost Christmas, layoffs are a buzzkill.”

She laughed, letting the subject drop. We chatted more, then she said she had to run. We exchanged Instagrams, her profile full of city skylines and travel snaps—a world away from my feed of fishing trips and barbecue. She glanced back as she left, her eyes full of meaning, making my heart pound.

Maybe my luck was turning.

In the days after, Melissa and I went from casual chatting to something hotter. We texted all day, late-night calls, swapped playlists, memes. My phone was glued to my hand. She dragged me out for bakery runs, pond skating, Christmas lights in the next county. Even the grayest Ohio winter felt brighter with her around.

We met almost every day. Things heated up fast. Inside jokes, finishing each other’s sentences—my friends teased me for disappearing. We even started planning to job hunt together after the holidays.

Then my childhood buddy Jake came home. He texted the second he landed, and I knew I had to introduce him to Melissa. First night back, he called me for burgers at the 24-hour diner. I figured I’d show off and invited Melissa too. She texted back, "sounds fun!" and a burger emoji. My heart did a victory dance.