Owen Grey, 22, New York.
He was perfect. He was everything that she wanted. He had dusty long blonde hair, shining blue eyes and a clean tattoo-less body. He was kind, caring, and he was the most easy-going guy that she had ever met. His was charm...
It had been a couple hours since I had received a text from (Y/N). I had slowly been growing impatient as I sat there, quietly. Sarah had gotten home earlier that morning and she had went to bed. I had took another long, painful swig of my scotch. My phone had finally lit up and a smirk rose on my face. She had sent me a picture of herself in a large baggy black shirt at a breakfast diner. I could faintly make out Frank on the side talking on the phone.
You look beautiful, princess.
I had sent the reply without even the slightest bit of hesitation. I was left there again, waiting. I tapped my finger on the cup I held. More waiting, more and more until I finally realized that she had read the message but didn't reply. A frown had been carved into my face before I had taken a deep breath, taking another swig of my drink.
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I wish that I were there with you instead of him.
She replied this time, with another picture. In this one she clearly had her phone in her lap as she had smiled down at the camera. "Cute" I groggily mumbled as I had sighed. She didn't seem so far from where I had been, honestly. The little diner seemed familiar, and the longer I had stared at it the sooner it had hit me in the head like a bus. I had been to that diner before. It was extremely close to where I used to live. I had furrowed my brows about to text her a question, but the girl had already replied.
I wish you were here, too. <3
She had been wrapped around my finger. Part of me felt bad for lying to the girl like this, but the other part of me was clapping and cheering for me. It had been screaming out, begging me to do more. Begging me to do worse. I wanted to. I really did. I wanted to ask her for something that no one should ask anyone for over the phone, mostly when you're cat-fishing someone.
I want to see you without that shirt~
My finger hovered over send. I had frowned and deleted the message. I couldn't do that. I wanted to play with the girl a little of course, but I didn't want to take it too far. Not now, at least. I sighed before another message had popped up.
Can we talk on the phone later? I wanna hear your voice.
I had cringed a bit. I was hesitant to reply yes, thinking and knowing that there existed a possibility that she knew my band and she knew my voice. But, it seemed unlikely. I had typed with my free hand, taking yet another slow and smug drink from my clear glass of scotch.
