ZOE DEAN'S POV
I went to bed that night still thinking about the stranger — Damien, he said his name was. There was something about him that clung to my thoughts like smoke. But I brushed it off before sleep pulled me under. What were the odds I'd ever see him again? Probably none.
The next morning came too soon. My alarm buzzed like it was angry at me, and I rolled out of bed with that heavy, restless feeling that comes after too little sleep. A shower didn't help much, but at least it woke me up enough to make it through the day.
When I reached work, the first thing I saw was Fredda standing outside the back exit. Her golden hair was a tangled mess. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and she looked like she'd just finished arguing with someone.
I frowned, stepping closer. "Fredda? What's with that face?"
She looked up at me sharply and then her expression softened. I was taken aback for a moment. "Hey girl, I wasn't expecting you so early."
