Falling Into A Mess Of Love | ✓

•Chapter four•

Dear Monday
I want to break up.
I'm seeing Tuesday
And thinking about Friday.
And if you had a face
I would slap it.

Me, my eighteen year old self, had to see Amy before I am needed to sweep the clean house at 11pm.

I ran into my cafe that I no longer work at and see Amy at the counter flirting with some guy.

"I need a coffee. Now." I say desperately, pushing in front of the guy.

"Customers before friends." she teases.

"And what if I told you that a girl like myself got hired by a millionaire to be his personal assistant?"

Amy's face was priceless. She wanted to pull my arm but the counter was in the way so she leaned in my face.

"What the f-"

"Language." I hiss at her.

"Hey I want my order!" The guy says short-tempered.

"Hey, my best friend here just got a job working for a hot billionaire, so you can just wait your story telling turn, alright David Hasselhoff?." Amy shot dagger eyes at him.

"Did you just-"

"Can you stop being an interrupting cow in my conversation?" Amy hisses.
I hid a laugh as the guy put his and up in defence.

"I can't believe it. You ended up working for a millionaire. What are the chances? Does hottie number one work with him too?"

"The blonde kid called Sebastian works with him, yes." I grin.

"Wow. That's- I can't even. My mind will explode if I think about it too much." Amy says making an explosive gesture.

She leans back on the counter and smirks. "The way to a mans heart is not through sex or puberty but merely the ability to trip ass over tit with a mug full of coffee in your hands."

"You watch Bridget jones baby way to many times." I scowl at her.

"I don't need to. You are the Bridget jones of this town." Amy laughs.

"Ha. Ha." Rolling my eyes I glance back at the clock. "Oh my god! Is that the time?"

"No it's a handburger, take a bite." Amy says sarcastically.

I scowl at her again. "I start soon!"

"Have fun." She winks.

I had the urge to hold up the finger but I decided against it and not ruin her fun. I turn to walk out and pass the guy still glaring at us, waiting to order. I felt a little bad for him.

I counted down the minutes and got to the house just in time. I raced to the front door right on eleven o'clock and pressed the doorbell that I discovered yesterday.

The door opened to see Eugene. He was dressed in a grey shirt and jeans, a bit casual from when I saw him last.

"You're three seconds late."