Wanted For Pleasure: vol 3

|19| Honey I'm Home

𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨
﹥━━━━━━━━━━﹤

After the plane landed, I tried waiting for my phone to charge, I'm just too impatient. I don't want to hang around this airport, I'm trying to go home and get in my own bed.
Not only that, but it's been a long four days without my fiancé - seeing her face.

Morgan is supposed to pick me up, and she's usually prompt so I don't bother waiting around inside any longer.

I roll my one suitcase behind me, looking around for her vehicle, or mine if she felt like driving the Tesla.

When my phone was on, on the plane, she asked me what time to be here. I told her how long the flight was and a rough estimate of when to pick me up, that's when my phone died. She's smart, though, she knows to come.

She'll be here any minute, I tell myself in my head.

Except, thirty minutes go by and I look like a neglected child waiting for their incompetent parent to pick them up from school.

I sigh, losing hope.

"What the fuck." I mumble, turning to go back inside.

"Excuse me." I growl to someone as I push past them.

Beep! Beep!

At first I ignore the horn, continuing to sulk.

Then, I hear, "Chrissy, my boy!"

When I turn around, I see Tate behind the wheel of one of this three obnoxious vehicles. His favorite this week being a blue Hummer. I hate that thing.

I hang my head, sulking towards him.

"What's up, Tate?" I exhale, tired, as I dap him up.

"My man," he grins, looking me over. "You look like shit."

I force a laugh. "I feel like it, too. What are you doing here?"

"I figured you'd need a ride - the girls are busy."

"The girls?"

Tate nods his head, keeping a toothy smile. "Morgan and Jasmine, they're doing some wedding planning bullshit. They must've got carried away and lost track of time."

I roll my eyes.

Unbelievable, I think. This isn't like Morgan.

"Come on," Tate grins, "put your shit in the back and hop in, brother."