checkmate , s.reid

008 » THE CALLS

Waking up on a random Tuesday to a call from my father, of all people, is not something I would've suspected to happen when I went to sleep last night. Groaning tiredly- I barely slept last night from working to finish a case until 11:30PM- I pick up my phone off the nightstand and press answer.

"Hey, kiddo!" my dad exclaims, a hint of excitement in his voice.

"Hi, Dad," I respond, not returning his positive energy.

"I just wanted to call and say good luck today! You start your new job, don't you?" he questions.

I sigh. "No. I started six weeks ago."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, uh, how's it going?" he asks.

"It's fine. Yeah, it's good."

"Okay. Good."

Silence fills the line. I don't know what to say, so I make up a lie. "I have to get ready for, um, work now. Bye."

"Okay, uh, bye, sweetheart."

Nodding to myself, I hang up and toss my phone down beside me with a sigh. Rubbing my eyes, I lay down on the bed, my head hanging off one side while my legs hang off the other. I remain like this for a few more minutes before my alarm sounds and I hit the off button with the heel of my foot. Standing up, I grab my bath robe from the back of my bedroom door and head through to the into the bathroom. I strip out of the tank top and shorts I'd worn to bed and toss them into the laundry basket. Turning on the shower, I step in and let the warm water completely soak me.

Shampoo, rinse, shave if I feel like it, wash, rinse, shampoo, rinse, condition, wash. The routine usually takes ten to fifteen minutes, but it can take hours if I'm in a bad mood. This time, it takes twelve minutes. Once I've finished, I step out and turn off the shower, grabbing the robe. I towel-dry my hair and brush it out before heading into my bedroom to get dressed.

Drying myself off, I grab some work clothes from my closet: just a simple white button-up shirt, a brown courdory jacket, and a pair of black jeans. Once I get dressed, I finish drying my hair with the hair dryer and style it so that it's not a messy wreck. Hiding the dark circles beneath my eyes with concealer, I add just a tiny dash of dark brown eyeshadow and black mascara. I head into the kitchen, make myself a quick bowl of cereal and a mug of tea, then brush my teeth and water my plants.

Before leaving, I pull on my Docs, grab my bag, credentials and gun, and leave the apartment, double-checking that I locked the door. As I head down the stairs of my building, I'm stopped in my tracks by a tall, relatively attractive man almost bumping into me as he walks up the stairs.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry," he profusely apologises. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, don't worry about it," I respond, slinking back slightly under his gaze.

The man holds a large box in his hands, labelled with the word 'Books',
as well as balancing a key on top of the box. "Do you want some help with that?" I offer.

"Oh, no, you seem to be in a rush, I shouldn't keep you."

"It's not a problem, really. Are you new to the building?" I ask stupidly- why else would he be carrying a moving box?

He nods. "Yeah, I am. I'm Jackson, or just Jack."

"Y/N," I respond.

"Wow," Jack says. "That's a really nice name."

I smile softly. "Thanks," I reply. "So, are you sure I can't help you with your boxes?"

He hesitates for a moment before saying, "Sure. If you wanna grab one from the moving van outside, go ahead. My apartment's nunber 216."