Meet Julian Again

Mila’s POV

“You should buy something for your new job! Or is it one of those places with a dress code?” Isabella asks when we stop at the first store.

I follow her as she browses the racks and my eye lands on a shiny blue dress. It looks like something I see a lot of girls wear at clubs, and it’s beautiful.

I’ve never worn anything that flashy or form fitting, but the urge to try it on is strong and Isabella must see it because she walks over and grabs it.

“Come on!” She chirps before grabbing my hand again and dragging me to the fitting room. “Try it on.”

I do as she says and step into the small room.

First, I look at my reflection.

I don’t wear any makeup or nice clothes, so most of the time I look really plain. It’s a side effect of trying to be completely invisible in this town. When I’m sick of looking at myself, I turn my back to the mirror and strip my clothes off. If I turned back around, I would see the many scars on my body.

This dress isn’t leaving this store with me as its owner because of it, but it will be fun to see what I would look like in it. So I slide the smooth fabric up my body and run my hands over the fabric. It’s so pretty. I take a deep breath and turn around to see how it looks on me, and I gasp.

There hasn’t been a time when I thought of myself as beautiful but in this dress…I can see how I could look and it’s nothing like the girl whose life is a complete mess.

No, this girl has a nice life with tons of great friends who take her out every weekend for a fun time at the club. This girl has a real life.

The reminder of my harsh reality quickly deflates the fleeting moment of happiness this dress has brought me. Carefully, I slip off the dress, ensuring not to damage it, and return it to its hanger.

The weight of my own clothes feels heavy compared to the ethereal dress, yet there's a strange sense of comfort in wearing them again.

Emerging from the fitting room, I notice Isabella engaged in a heated exchange with a couple of unfamiliar girls. Their backs are turned towards me, preventing me from recognizing who they are, but Isabella's expression is seething with anger.

"How dare you spread rumors like that! You think you can just ruin someone's reputation and walk away?"

"Oh, please! We heard it from a reliable source. It's not our fault if she can't handle the truth."

Isabella's fury intensifies as she responds.

"You call gossiping about someone's personal life 'the truth'? It's nothing but malicious lies! You should be ashamed of yourselves!"

Another girl added, "Whatever. We don't need your drama."

The girls’ faces flushed with annoyance. I approach Isabella, concerned about what just transpired.

"Isabella, what was that all about? Are you okay?"

Isabella waves me off dismissively, trying to regain her composure.

"Don't worry about it. They were spreading false rumors about someone. Let's just focus on our shopping, okay?"

"Rumors? Come on. Hey, see, it is our poor Mila." A familiar voice sounded behind me.

My skin prickles.

It is him. The evil Scott. My ex boyfriend.

"Hey there, Mila. Still dressing like you're invisible, huh? Oh, not today... I got it! You want to be a clown now, right? How pathetic," Scott sneers, his voice dripping with disdain. The memory of his cutting words during our breakup floods back, stinging as sharply as it did back then. His girlfriend Giana giggles, a sound that pierces through me like an arrow.

Scott's voice cuts through the air, slicing through my newfound sense of confidence like a knife. His arrogant tone and the presence of his cheerleader girlfriend Giana remind me of everything I'd rather forget. I feel a surge of discomfort, my pulse quickening involuntarily. I cast my gaze downward, focusing on my feet, desperately trying to tune out his words. No matter how many times I see him again, I can't face the damn memory. I was like a worm in front of him.

"You..." Isabella stepped in front of me.

“Hi Scott.” I say as calmly as I can.

He smirks at me, and I can feel a deep aching in my bones. Like the weight of his eyes on me is about to break me completely again.

“Milly.” He says and a sharp pain pierces me in the chest.

Milly was what he called me when he was sweet to me, back when everything was a lie.

“It’s Mila.” Isabella snaps at him. “You lost the chance at calling her that when you hurt her!”

“He hurt her? She’s nothing to him and never was.” Giana, Scott’s girlfriend, says with a smirk.

He wraps an arm around her shoulder and leans down to kiss her.

“Baby, I want that outfit. It would look way better on me, don’t you think?” Giana says pointing at me.

Scott considers me, and then there is that smirk again. “You’re right babe. You would look hot in that. What do you say Milly? Take it off. It doesn’t suit you and we all know it. You don’t like dressing up or even trying to look nice, so why bother acting like you care about your looks?”

“She already bought it.” Isabella blurts out.

I look at her with wide eyes and she cringes.

“Like you could afford anything that nice. Take it off, now.” Giana steps closer and gets into my space.

She grabs my wrist and is about to drag me to the changing room when someone else joins the group.

"Hey, Scott," a deep voice cut through the tension. "The team's out looking for you. The game's about to start."

“Oh, hey, Julian! Right, I almost missed it because of this roadblock. ”

All the heads in the store turn toward the voice. It takes me a second to figure out who has just walked in, and then mortification floods me.

As if the universe had some twisted plan to heighten my humiliation, Julian, the guy I met at the bus stop appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He had that athletic build, which I didn’t notice this morning, that fit right into Scott's social circle – the kind of guy I always imagined Scott surrounded himself with.

They are friends, good, just as I thought.

“Oh, my gosh! You’re Julian Keller!” Giana says before prancing over to stand in front of him.

He barely looks at her. Instead, his eyes are fixed on me. I want to squirm under his intense eyes, but I don’t because I can’t take my eyes off him either.

“I have been wanting to see your new place for so long, but it’s impossible to get into! Maybe you could…” She brushes a hand over his arm and bats her lashes up at him. “Get us in.”

He looks down at where she’s touching him and grabs her wrist.

“Don’t touch me.” He says to her in warning. “And don’t touch her again. Do you understand?”

Giana gapes at him like a fish but nods. He turns his attention back to me and scans me over. “It suites you. Maria, put it on my tab.”

"By the way, Scott," Julian continued, his tone casual, "you're boring. Seriously, I can't think of anyone more boring in the whole world."

The woman behind the counter rings up the clothes and a phone goes off. The guy looks down at his phone and types something before looking up at me again. He doesn’t say another word before he turns and walks away.

Scott's mouth opened and closed, and finally he managed to force a stiff smile.. With a frustrated huff, he shot a quick glare at me before turning to leave with his girlfriend.

It was an unexpected turn of events, leaving me standing there in confusion.

Is he doing me a favor? But why? Maybe he didn't recognize me.

Anyway, that was the end of a farce that I couldn't solve. Despite all that, a part of me couldn't shake off the feeling of being judged, just like I always felt when Scott was around. Julian, anyways, is just the same brush as Scott, as someone who saw me as inferior.

Isabella grabs my hand and pulls me along to the next store, repeating this pattern until I find myself laden with a bag full of new clothes while Isabella triumphantly claims seven bags for herself.

I promised her to wear one of my new outfits today and agreed when I saw what it was. It’s pretty and hides all my secrets perfectly.

We leave the mall and head to my new job. There are tons of people standing in line when we arrive, and it’s only three in the afternoon. Isabella walks with me to the entrance where I give the two scary men out front my name. They wave me inside and even not let Isabella come, much to everyone’s dismay.

“I’ll hang out here for a while. You go do your thing.” She isn’t looking at me when she says this.

Tracing her gaze, I catch sight of an attractive bartender, his lips curled into a knowing smirk aimed at her. She responds with a feeble wave in my direction before gracefully maneuvering through the crowd, her destination unmistakably him.

I shake my head and ask one of the other bartenders where the employee locker room is. He points down a long hallway.

Following the well-placed signs, I find myself stepping into a lounge area adorned with lockers neatly aligned against the walls.

A smile breaks across my face as my eyes settle on a locker adorned with my name—a personalized space for me.

The lounge exudes an air of lavish grandeur. The opulence is palpable in every detail—the intricately woven carpet underfoot, the soft glow of carefully placed lighting, the plush velvet seating inviting passersby to rest awhile. Elegant artwork graces the walls, hinting at tales yet to be told, while the glimmering crystals of a chandelier cast ethereal patterns on the floor.

This place is fancy as hell, which fits its name perfectly.

The air is infused with a subtle blend of rich scents—perhaps a mix of expensive perfumes and aged spirits. Patrons in sophisticated attire engage in hushed conversations, their laughter punctuating the ambient murmur of voices.

It's a fusion of luxury and a touch of the forbidden, a place where indulgence mingles with secrecy.

The Hell Club.

As soon as I drop off my duffle bag, I grab my new clothes and head to the bathroom to change. The only thing we all have to wear is the same black apron and a black top of our choice. The new top Isabella got me has a sheer fabric covering my arm, shoulders and stops just above the dark black fabric covering my chest and stomach. I’m matching it with a pair of skinny jeans and some black wedge boots.

I’ve never worn anything like it and when I see myself in the mirror, I can’t help but smile. Isabella gave me some easy make-up to put on in a little pouch and instructions on how to use it.

I follow her directions exactly and finish my look by pulling my hair into a high pony tale. When I’m done, I look nothing like my normal self and its’ oddly empowering.

Almost like for tonight I’m pretending to be someone else, and this new girl is confident and strong.

Now, if I can hold on to that until my shift is over, then maybe I’ll get good tips. I suck in a deep breath and give myself a measuring nod in the mirror before I turn and walk out.

Only a few dim lights illuminate the hallway, so when I turn into the hallway, I don’t know someone is there until I literally bump into them.

“I’m so sorry.” I say quickly and squint slightly to make out their face.

“It’s fine.” A deep voice says in reply, but he doesn’t move to leave. “I know you.”

I rear back a little. “You do? How I just started here.”

He lets out a low laugh. “We met just now.”

What is he talking about?

He moves so that the dim light falls onto his face and then the realization hits me.

“You. From the bus stop.” I recognize it now. Julian.