Painted Angel (Artist! 2p! America x Reader)

Charity Event

        The week of the charity event came all too quickly. You felt as if you were scrambling last second to make sure you had everything you could possibly need for the night packed and ready to go so you could catch your plane on time, which you nearly missed anyway due to the influx of travellers due to the holidays. Allen texted you before take off, saying that he was running late himself and that he wouldn't be able to pick you up this time. You made sure to tell him that it was okay, and you'd just take a cab to his place. It wasn't that big of a deal in your eyes.

Trying to do your makeup on the plane was a bit of a challenge, especially when it hit a bit of turbulence. You eventually got a good enough base going that you could finish it at Allen's studio. Your hair was a whole other story. That would have to be done completely at his place. Sighing in defeat, you put away your makeup supplies and waited as patiently as possible for your flight to land. When you could disembark, you waited your turn to get out of your seat with your carry-on, then speedily walked to the baggage claim. You prayed that your dress didn't have too many wrinkles from being in the suitcase. It was in a protective slip since it was a formal dress, and you spent far too much money on it to have it ruined.

Once you had all your belongings and made it outside, you hailed a cab, tossed your things into the back seat with you and got in, telling the driver the address of the apartment building Allen lived at. He nodded and made sure you were buckled before merging back into traffic. You glanced anxiously outside the window at the passing scenery, then down to your phone to check the time. Five hours until you had to be at the charity event. You could work with that. You'd probably have about four and a half hours once you got to the studio, so you had plenty of time.

You soon made it to Allen's building, the cab driver pulling over so you could get you. You paid him his total and gave him a generous tip, wishing him a happy holidays and him doing the same before he pulled away. Wheeling your suitcase behind you and carry-on slung over your shoulder, you practically ran inside, seeking warmth and shelter from the cold temperatures of December. You waved in greeting to the usual security guard that worked at the front desk and shuffled towards the elevator.

"Miss, who are you visiting?" he asked.

"Allen?" you questioned, quirking a brow at him. Surely he remembered you.

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Jones doesn't reside here any longer."

"What?"

"Mr. Jones left. He doesn't live here."

"Is this a joke? Did he put you up to this?"

"No ma'am. He moved out three weeks ago."

You blinked, eyelids fluttering rapidly in disbelief. To say you were shocked was an understatement. He moved and didn't tell you? It wasn't like he was obligated to do so, but a heads up of an address change would have been nice so you could have gone to the correct place. You sighed and took a seat on one of the chairs in the lobby, pulling out your phone to call him. He answered within a ring and a half and placed you on speaker.

"Hey! Where are you? I thought you would have been here by now."

"Yeah. Me too. But you wanna know something funny that happened?"

"Oh god. This should be good. What happened?"

"So I showed up to your place and the security guard told me that you don't live here anymore."

He was silent for a moment, the sound of him shuffling in the background stopping. "Fuck! I forgot to give you my new address!"

"You think?"