Wrong Number From Jace

Let's Reconcile

Let's Reconcile

Jace's POV

Bouquet of Flowers...check!

Pancakes...check!

Audrey...going to check that.

I woke up so early to visit Audrey and be able to make it up on her. I'm pretty sure I can't change so quickly, but I'll try, if that's what she wants. I walk up to their front door, but made sure, his father isn't everywhere, that punch from the jaw still hurts to be honest.

I ring her number,just in case to see if she's awake.

Eighth Call – 6:12 am
Jace > Audrey

“Hey...”

“What?!”

“Just open your front door...”

“I don't want to--”

“Just do it...”

-BEEP-

I hope she does, I waited for a few seconds, hoping she would really do it. I held the bouquet with both my hands, and the pancakes on the plastic bag I made myself.

After a few moments later, the door opened, and there stood Audrey. Her long hair ends on her shoulders, her buttoned pajama shirt slightly disheveled, showing her perfect curves and her chocolate brown eyes that deeply pierce through mine.

“Done checking me out?” she asks.

Deja vu Jace, Deja vu...

“Y-Yeah, here...” I gave her the bouquet of white roses, which she smells, her eyes closing. Hey, I really bought real ones, I didn't just go shop for plastics.

“They're real huh?” she whispers, and glances at my other hand that holds the plastic bag that contains those fluffy pancakes she always liked.
“Are those pancakes?”

“You're really a good guesser...”

Her face turns to 'dont-mess-with-me-b*tch' look, remembering I said the same thing when I called her.

“I'm so sorry, Audrey. Look, I really can't change myself that fast, and like I said, I couldn't promise...but I never told you that I wouldn't try...”

And with that, her face lits up, and just as I going to speak, her hands wraps around my neck, feeling the heat from her breath, as she rest her chin on my shoulder.

“Thanks Jace...”

She breaks the hug, and lets me in the house, placing the pancakes on their plates. She went back upstairs to shower. When I was finished putting all her breakfast, she came downstairs, changed with her buttoned blue shirt, white jeans, and black sneakers. She ties her hair to a messy bun, and wears that sweet smirk on her face.

“Man, you look hot for a good girl? You're like a bad girl. I like that...”

“What? Can't be a good girl go bad for just a day?” we both chuckled and ate the pancakes I made for her.