Wrong Number [18+] ✔️

Chapter|20.

*Fallon*

When I first woke up, I was a little disappointed to find myself alone. There is nothing more heart-wrenching and confusing than waking up to an empty bed after having one of the most wonderful nights of your life. But that feeling quickly diminished when I reached for my phone and found a note underneath it— explaining his reason for leaving. I felt so silly for jumping to conclusions.

Hell...I still feel silly— embarrassed even.

Aside from my childish thinking, I did, however, receive a text from Alex around 6:30 am, letting me know that he made it home safely and that he was going to bed. He also said that he would see me later tonight for his dad's dinner party— which I completely let slip my mind.

With that being said, I am currently rushing around my house trying to get ready before Ally gets here. She's bringing over her collection of dresses that her— I don't know if there's any good way to explain this without making it sound worse than it is...but we like to call them her sugar-daddies. Now...before you say ew and think the worst...let me just inform you that Ally has never in her life slept with anyone old enough to be her dad. We call every man, no matter what age they are— that wants to buy you nice things because they can, sugar-daddies.

I don't sleep around as much as Ally does. Which is the reason why I don't have any sugar daddies. Beside...I like to buy my things. And if I can't afford it...then I guess I don't need it.

I unwrapped my wet hair from my towel, letting my blonde locks fall down my back and shiver. Don't you just hate it when your cold hair touches your warm skin? I know sure do.

After brushing all the knots out, I plug in my straightener and blow dry my hair. I'm still not sure what I'm going to do with it yet. I could leave it down and curl the bottom— or I could do a half hair up half hair down and curl it— or I could just pull it all up in an easy updo— or...I'm running out of or here. I'm not a hair stylist so there is only so much that I could do with my hair.

My anxiety is about to skyrocket through the roof. I've never been to one of these things before and I'm not sure how I should look. I don't want to show up underdressed and embarrass myself or Alex.

With a shaky hand, I grab my straightener and slide the first of many pieces of my hair through it. I've never been so nervous in my life. My body is shaking, my palms are sweaty and my stomach is in knots. I don't like it. Not one bit.

And to make matters worse. No scratch that, to make matters so...much worse. His mother already has a vendetta against me and she hasn't even met me yet. Apparently, she doesn't think that I'm good enough for her son. At least that's what I got from Alex.

Why does life have to be so complicated? Why do people have to be so judgmental? No matter where you are in the world, someone— somewhere is always getting judged. It shouldn't matter where a person came from, what they do for a living, what color their skin is, or what their beliefs are. What should matter is whether or not that person is good.

The world is a fucked up place.

I finish straightening the last strand of my hair and pull out my makeup kit. This is the only thing left to do until Ally gets here. Then I can get dressed and finish my hair.

Earlier, I told her that I wanted something that would go with a natural look. That's the only look that doesn't make me look like a clown.

"I'm here...bitch," Ally yells up the steps.

Finally!

"In the bathroom," I call back.

She walks into the bathroom, hangs a black garment bag on the back of the door, and looks at me. "You haven't done shit," she says. "How long do we have?"