Low-key | ✓

23 | Timeskip!

"FOUR, I TOLD YOU to handle this mission! Can't you at least cooperate?"

"I couldn't help it!" The former rolled his eyes at me but I growled and threw the folder onto the desk.

"Ugh, I am so tired of hearing reports on television about people getting caught for smuggling drugs. You should really learn how to separate your job from your personal business." I sighed, closing my eyes and leaning onto my seat.

"But--"

"No buts! More importantly, no more selling drugs to the people I ask you to kill. Stop the buy-bust-kill thing. Got that?" I snapped my fingers at him.

He groaned, "Ugh, I hate you."

I stared him down, "You're not supposed to like me, I'm your boss."

"Totally regret going on the good side." He groaned while I laughed.

After the boys have been out of danger about eight months ago, I hired Four to work for the company. I had fired every single employee that helped Cyrus and had their memories cleaned in ATC's laboratory. Chickee is now out of the secret agent life and had adapted to her celebrity lifestyle and became a full-time beauty vlogger, we hang out all the time though. I mean, how couldn't we? We live in the same house. She's now dating a guy named Joel, a pilot of Forthright Airlines in New York City.

The boys went on with their lives as a band. From what I've heard, Jack has a girlfriend named Gabbie, who is pregnant with his child, Daniel is a bastard, Zach is now a professional chipotle master, Corbyn is a dick, and Jonah's now obsessed with coffee. Nothing changed.

"I don't regret shit." I rolled my eyes at him.

Four scoffed, "You're so bitter. You need to spice your life up a little."

I narrowed my eyes at him then laughed, "What spice? My life is already extra hot with all the deaths our company has caused."

"Lovelife."

My eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Lovelife?!"

One look at his face that was full of sincerity, I guffawed. "Dude are you insane? I don't--"

"Oh you need lovelife, Asti." A new voice entered the conversation. I looked at my office's door and groaned when I saw a familiar brunette.

"Urgh, not you." I rolled my eyes at her.

"Well someone looks happy to see me. " She snorted, giving me a hug. I hugged her back then laughed.

"How was your tour?" She went on a beauty cosmetics tour for five months and was scheduled to return today; and she did return on time.

"It was fine. Although I kept missing Joel, he was Skyping me day and night." She dreamily sighed.

Four fake gagged, "Gross."

Chickee slapped his shoulder and sat next to him, "Stop being a bitter bastard, Four Seasons."

Four glared at her, "It's Four Black Besson. Jesus, stop using that nickname, it's annoying."

She rolled her eyes at him, "Whatever. Now, back to that spicing Asti's life up. I have the perfect plan!"

I groaned, "No plans!"

She hushed me and slapped my forearm, "Shut up and let me discuss the plan!"

I grimaced, "I already hate this plan."

She grinned, "Trust me, you won't."
-

Trusting Chickee was a terrible idea. The brunette put me in a knee length baby pink skirt, a white button up shirt, and a pair of white flats. She insisted on putting makeup on my face, but I glared at her and only let her do my eyebrows and put red lipstick on my lips.

"You'll do great!" The girl told me earlier.

Turns out, she signed me up for some kind of blind date in Carrie's new coffee shop in New York. The date was supposed to be at 8pm, but she insisted on making me fashionably late, so here I am, standing in front of Carrie's Coffee, at 8:05 in the evening. I brought a white glock inside my pink fluffy purse just in case I see a mafia leader I need to kill. You'll never know what could happen in a coffee shop.

My phone dinged, signaling that someone had messaged me. I opened my phone and saw a text from Chickee: He's at table 7. Be nice.

I rolled my eyes at her text and left it on read as I opened the door. I saw the booth and made my way to the back. The guy had his back turned on me, but something about him was familiar. Like I had seen him before, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

I plastered a smile on my face and sat across the person on the booth, not looking up as I adjusted myself on my seat.

"I'm Asti, nice to meet you." I held a hand out to the guy while I was fixing my skirt.

What the latter said next soon made my face turn pale, my heart palpitate, and my hands freeze.

"I'm Corbyn."