"But I don't need your relationship, 'cause I have a brand-new relationship.. so hahahahahahaha I win." -relationship, (Zach Stone ringtone)
. . .
Los Angeles, California, 2015
Bo
I'm sitting on the sofa checking Twitter when Lorene comes out of the bedroom, her red hair a little messy on the top of her head.
"You have crazy bedhead," I chuckle, and she makes a face at me.
"Like you're one to talk," she replies.
I shrug, turning back to my phone.
"So, what are we doing today?" I ask, running my fingers through my hair and casually smirking. Lorene rolls her eyes. I know she hates it when I smirk, which only makes me smirk more.
"I dunno," Lorene mutters, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.
"I think we can see a movie or something... I have another week before the second leg of my tour," I add, glancing up at Lorene's face. She's biting her lip a little - a cute habit of hers.
"I thought you could go visit Justine," Lorene says. I stop in my tracks.
"What? Why? I'm sure she's fine." I say dismissively.
I haven't thought about Justine since the incident on the sidewalk. I figured she would be okay at the hospital. She didn't have any real physical damage.
"The doctor said she might have a concussion," Lorene says, glancing at my face.
"I know she has a concussion." I reply, looking at my hands.
"Well, you don't have to visit her. But I'm going to be working today, so we can't go out." Lorene smiles apologetically.
I sigh.
"Fine, I'll go see Justine." I get up off the couch and lean over to give Lorene a quick kiss on the forehead. I mess up her hair even more. "Can we still go see that movie at 2:30?"
"Sure," Lorene replies, waving me away.
"You're lucky you're cute," I comment snarkily, and she swats my arm playfully.
"Oh, shut the fuck up, Bo. Get out of here."
I chuckle and walk towards the door, waving to her behind me.
"See you later," Lorene calls. I turn and shoot her a smile.
. . .
"Hey, I'm looking for Justine Eleanor Smith. Is she still here?"
I stand at the front counter, and the receptionist, a cute, pudgy brunette, smiles sweetly at me.
"Sure, let me check. Can I get an ID?"
I slide my drivers license onto the table and she types a few things on her keyboard. She nods a few times and hums something under her breath.
"Okay, Mr...", she glances at my ID, "Ah, Mr. Burnham. Miss Smith is getting a scan right now, but she'll be back to her room in a few minutes. Do you mind waiting in the main area until she gets back? I'll be sure to call your name when she returns."
"I don't mind at all. Thanks a bunch," I say, turning around to sit in the waiting area.
"Wait! Mr. Burnham, your ID!" I spin back around, and the receptionist is holding my license, which I smartly left on the counter.
"Oh, whoops. Uh, thanks," I mutter, stuffing it back in my pocket.
"You know, I really liked your show at the Largo," she comments as I try to get my license back into my jeans pocket.
