The Cold Hearted Girl

Chapter 13

            Angela's POV

I was awoke but haven't opened my eyes yet.

What time is it now? I asked myself.

I jolted upward when I remembered I was supposed to meet the blond asshole.

Holy shit!

I slept too much, I should have told mom to wake me up.

I took my phone out from under my pillow and looked at the time.
What?!?

Right now I'm so shocked.

I feel like I slept for hours.

But according to the time on my phone it's only 50-55 minutes.

Oh My God.

How is this possible?

I went to the contacts and wrote the blond asshole, but it was written no search.

How?
He gave my his number, where is it now?

I decided to check all the contacts I have, which is probably 10-15 person.

I found an unfamiliar one that was written the blond cute guy.

That must be him, I told him to save it under the blond asshole, and look at what he's written.

Oh God Oh.

It's Angela meet me at the cafe near your house. I press send and wait for his response.

I'll be there in ten minutes. He send back and I sighed in relief because after all these time I'm going to know where that son of a human's place is.

I didn't bother to change my clothes, it's not like it's a date or something.

I went downstairs and told mom that I'm going to meet a friend at the cafe.

She told me if I needed a ride home, I must call her.

I kissed her on the cheeks and left the house.

As always I put my earphones on with the song skillet-salvation playing.

I reached the cafe after 11 minutes.

When I reached there that blond asshole has already sat and even ordered a coffee.

I went to the table he was sitting at, and when I pulled the chair he looked up, "finally."

"Finally," I mimicked him before sitting.

He glared at me but said nothing.
I ordered my usual coffee and waited till it came.

"So," he said before taking a sip from his coffee.

"What do you need to find his place?"

"For now his name is enough."

"Okay. His name is Wesley Brooke."

He took out the laptop from his bag, which I didn't know that he had it with him.

"What's his age?"

"18 or 19."

He turned the laptop toward me, "Is this him?"

That boy, that boy who ruined my life. He's laughing in the picture with his arms around a blonde girl.

He doesn't deserve to be happy.

I just need to find him.

"I said is that him?" He said 'him' with full of hate, why? I don't know.