Love At First Voice

Hello?

I waited as the phone rang, yelling at my younger brother as he messed around, no words left my mouth but I knew he could read my lips, he smirked as the person finally answered.

"Hello?"

My eyebrows knitted together in confusion as a male voice answered . . . this didn't sound like Heather. "Hhiiii, who is this?"

"I should be asking you the same question."

I took the phone away from my ear, read the number, then the number on the piece of paper. It matched. Huh.

"Um, sorry I must of dialed the wrong numb - ow!" I yelled as a big something hit me on the back of the head, turning around I found the portable heater at my feet, on its side, and growled. "Zach! Don't throw that fucking heater at my head again. Or I'll frickin' kill you!" I rubbed the back of my head, hearing some laughter from the phone. "Sorry again, wrong number, and for wasting your time."

"Nah, don't worry about it, you just made my day, actually."

"Who am I speaking with?" I asked as I dodged another thrown object, watching as a binder hit the wall with a loud bang, I spun around as Zach ran out of sight, catching sight of his leg. "Zachary! Stop it before I cut that arm off!"

The man chuckled. "Jonathan Good, who's the woman I'm talking to?"

"Jennifer Patterson."

"Jennifer? Nice name."

"Yeah well you have a nice name too Jonathan."

"Call me Jon."

"Okay, call me Jen, then." I said as I clotheslined my frickin' younger brother who was 14. I was 27, there was a big age difference, but he was acting like a 3 year old and it was driving me nuts. I laughed at him as he whined.

"Owwww, Jeeeeen."

"Ha! That's what you get . . . think twice before you throw a heater at my head . . ." I grumbled the last part, watching as he sat up rubbing his throat.

"So! That doesn't mean clothesline me!" He whined, standing up, slapping me like a girl in a slap fight.

"Hey, hey, hey! I'm on the phone! Go girl slap someone else, or better GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

"Your no fun." He pouted, crossing his arms, his bangs falling into his face, making him look cute.

I cocked a brow and sighed. "You hit me with a god damn heater, so I'm not being nice to you right now."

He stormed to his room, I turned my attention back to the phone, asking hopefully, "Did you hang up?"

"No, I'm still here." Jon chuckled from the other line.

I sighed. "Man, you know by now this slight mishap in phone numbers would be over if you just said, 'Oh its okay it happens to everyone.' Then I can laugh nervously and say 'thanks sorry, won't happen again.' Then we hang up and pretend this never happened."

"I don't want to pretend this never happened though, Jen."

I raised a brow. "Are you flirting with me?"

"No."

"Then why are you dragging on this conversation?"

"Because you make me laugh, where do you live?"

"Stamford Connecticut." Flew out of my mouth before I could stop it, I slapped my hand over my mouth.

"Hmmm . . ."

"Jon!" I heard someone yell in the background to the man I was talking to. "You're on soon!"

On soon? Was he like a actor or really famous? Before I could continue that thought I heard him sigh, muttering something about bald fat guys. "Sorry, I gotta go."

I smiled, but kept it out of my voice, instead I made myself sound disappointed. "Aww, okay, it was nice talking to you, Jon."

"Same to you, Jen. Bye."

I hung up and sighed. "That was really awkward." I looked at my phone and smiled. "But it was kinda fun."

"Awwww Jenny has a crush, Jenny has a crush." I whipped around, throwing the binder at my brother's head, he dodged it and it hit the wall hard with a twack. He ran down the hall laughing and singing. "Jenny's gotta crush! Jenny's gotta crush!"

"Shut up you brat! I do not have a frickin' crush!" I called, glaring at the wall, my lips pressed into a straight line, but it was ruined as I started laughing, the corners of my mouth going up, my lips still pressed together.

At least that was the first and last time I talk to that Jonathan Good.

. . . but he did have a nice voice . . .

I shook my head, growling. "Shut up mind, he might of sounded hot but you're never ever, going to meet the owner of that voice . . .sadly."

I groaned at myself, falling back into the couch, slumping deeply smacking my hand on my forehead. "Mom, Dad, please get home soon so I can cuss myself out . . ."