Chuck Grant Fanfiction :)

Chapter Two - sometimes losing keys is good

The other morning, when I woke up, Lana was not there. She let me a note on her bed. Chuckie, I had to go to town. My manager wants to meet... Xoxo

Yup, here we go with the fame... I got a shower and dressed up. I took a white long sleeved t-shirt,a short denim skirt and some black vans. I didn't forget about the sunglasses, but I decided not to wear the hat today. I wasn't very hungry so I decided to take a coffee at Starbucks.

"A big latte, please" I said to the guy.

"Sugar?" He asked quietly.

"A lot of" I giggled.

"Good choice, Chuck"
CHUCK?! Where the hell from did he know my name?!
"Who told you my name," I looked at the little piece of paper on his shirt. "Eric?"

"A young women ordered the same this morning. She told me that you'll come and have the same. She said that your name is Chuck." "LIZZYYYY!!!" I'll fucking kill her!
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He asked me for my number. I asked him for his. I'm a terrible bitch!

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I spent my day in the city. I bought me a sandwich for lunch and walked to a park. It was really warm and I was so tired... I fell asleep on the bench. When I woke up it was dark. I was shocked. I didn't remember where I am. When I made my self remember, I stopped a taxi and went to the hotel. I was up to walk up the stairs when a woman asked me:

"Who are you and why are you going to the private apartment?" I torn around and looked to the eyes of the old woman taking care of the keys.

"I'm Chuck Grant. Lana's sister. Its my apartment. "

"Anyone could say that" Why was she so mean?!"Show me your keys"
THE KEYS! Oh no! I forgot them in the coffee! 

"I...I, lost them" I said quietly.

"Goodbye, go and find them."

I was above to call Lizzy,  but my phone had no battery left. All I had was my little bag and Erics number on my hand.

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"Hi, Eric! It's Chuck, from the coffee."

"Oh, hi! What's up?"

"Ehm... I lost my keys and..."

"Where are you? " He asked so gently.

"I'm in front of the coffee, but..."

"On my way"

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He's full name is Eric Grapes. He likes jazz. He hates pop and coffee, but he works on Starbucks because they pay a lot. We've been on his flat all night. He's got a lot of plants on his flat and he makes good tea. His eyes are big and green and his hair is dark brown. His nose is small and his face nice shaped. There is always a space between his lips, even if he's not talking. His lips are soft and he kisses like God. His hands are gentle and he knows how to massage breasts without hurting. He knows how to drop clothes to the floor without waking up the neighbors. My moaning does not molest him. I might love him.