Wrong Number | Jack Avery ✓ ; jra

III

THE BRUNETTE girl sat there, inside the grill she worked part time at, waiting for this Jack character. Her shift had ended an hour ago.

She changed her entire outfit for this meet up. Her hair was out of its normal bun and/or ponytail. From the normal skirt and blouse, she had opted for black high waist jeans a white croptop, and her feet were adorned by white Nike Airs.

She sighed as she put her head in her hands, Maybe he is a serial killer.

She couldn't believe the fact that she was starting to like a serial killer.

Oh the things he'd to to me-- what the fuck? No. No. No. No.

She groaned out loud, ignoring the stares of the customers seated on the table opposite hers.

She checked her phone once again, but there was absolutely no call or message from Jack.

2pm sharp turned into four o'clock. Until she finally decided to leave.

As she made her way outside the grill, she heard her phone ring.

Thinking it was Jack, she had answered it immediately.

"Noodles? Where are you?"

She heard someone clearing their throat on the other end.

"Who is this noodles you speak of, Ms. Trivianni?"

Oh no.

Its her client!

"It's nobody, Ma'am."

"Right. Well, I just called in to tell you that you have a meeting with me and the others today, 5 pm sharp, at the conference room of Four Seasons Hotel."

"Okay Ma'am, thank you!"

"I'm looking forward to seeing you, Miss Trivianni."

"You too, Ma'am."

Guess she was going to Four Seasons.

-

If there was one thing she loved to do, that was driving around town on her favorite motorcycle.

She called it Yonky. It was a white Harley Davidson, the newest model.

As she felt the cold breeze pass through her tightly knotted hair, she smiled.

This relieved her frustration from Jack.

She was meant to have a meeting with her new clients today, but she still made time for him.

Well, screw him and his pretty voice that lulled her to sleep.

His deep yet beautiful voice on the phone made her want to scream for joy whenever she heard it. But she couldn't. Why? Well, wouldn't want to embarrass herself in front of her crush.

Who would want that?

Not her, obviously.

"Welcome, Ma'am." 

She smiled at the bellboy and gave him her helmet and keys.

"Knock yourself out." She winked.

He smiled giddily, "Thank you Ma'am!"

She made her way to the conference room- which, according to her client, was at the very top of the building, the tenth floor.

As she waited inside the elevator, she plugged in her earphones and streamed on spotify. It was on shuffle, and it played another song by the boy band, Why Don't We.