«not edited»
philophobia (n) fear of falling in love or being in love
[origin : latin, greek]
"Adrianna, pack a bag for a few days, you're coming with me on a business trip," Phoenix said out of nowhere. And I barely manage to catch onto what he said.
I was in the living room of the Worthington's mansion, reading Shakespeare, when he walks in god knows when and states it. And if I had been anymore lost in reading sonnets, I probably wouldn't have heard him at all.
I turned around to look at him standing in the hall that led to his bedroom and he stood with a solemn look on his face. So he's not taking shit today is he?
"When do we leave," I ask in the same somber tone.
"Tonight actually," he replies in the same fucking tone. This conversation has got to be one of the most irritating I've had. And though he was pissing me off with his flat and cryptic tone, my eyes widened.
"Tonight," I asked, flabbergasted.
"Yes, Adrianna," he says through gritted teeth, "I don't like repeating myself." What the fuck is his goddamn problem?
"And you decide to tell me this only now," I ask in a condescending tone, arching an eyebrow.
"Yes, goddamnit woman," and I realize that Phoenix Worthington is in fact angry and wearing very thin on patience. His eyes were cold and empty and he was tense.
"Okay," I answer quietly, "How should I pack?" My voice was barely audible and I was nervous.
His eyes softened for just about a split second before hardening once again, "We're going to New York City for the weekend, our flight is at midnight, so check in is around ten, I'm picking you up from your house at nine thirty," is all he said before turning around and walking toward the direction of his bedroom. Yes, because that totally answers my fucking question.
§
I'm back in my own room, a small suitcase opened on my floor and my closet a wreck. It was five now, leaving me with four and a half hours to pack my suitcase and get myself ready. I had my carry on packed already - my Vans watercolor pink and blue backpack - with my Macbook, writing notebook, BuJo, makeup bag, Canon, wallet, earphones, and all my chargers. It was zipped up and sitting by my door with my Eddie Bauer windbreaker laying on top for me to grab when I leave.
I had absolutely no idea why the hell Phoenix was making go on this business trip with him. Isn't a business trip solely for business, clearly I wasn't needed. It irked me, it pissed me off royally, and it bothered me to the nth degree that he had such a high power over me. I was never one to listen to what others had to say, I was never one to do as others asked. So why was it when Phoenix said something, asked me something, I was ready to give into him. He simply states that we're going to New York City and instead of giving him shit and refusing, I ask when we're leaving.
Looking around at what has become a mess of my room, my thoughts began to consume me wholly. I thought about him, I thought of him, he took over my mind completely. After that night spent at his bachelor pad, we returned back to the mansion the next day and he completely ignored me and shut me out, since then he's barely talked with me. And you'd be damned if you really thought he was ever gonna bring up any of the events that took place in his bachelor pad. It was as if it never happened, and even now, it's becoming a distant memory to me for I was in and out of conscious that night.
I didn't really know what to pack, I had been moving around my room blindly for an hour now just thinking incessantly. It was January twenty sixth and there's no doubt New York would be freezing. I laugh to myself, freezing? I didn't ever get cold, I just never felt it the way any other normal person would; and everyone would tease me saying I must've been cold-blooded. And I hated winter jackets, scarves, hats, and gloves with a damn passion.
I packed two joggers, - navy and maroon - two pairs of jeans, a nude lace long sleeved bodysuit, and my golden roses, broken dreams club, and Florida State hoodies. I also threw in my white Nautica windbreaker just in case. We were staying for two, maybe three? days, but I was absolutely clueless on what we'd be doing during that time. So I went and threw in a few dresses as well. My eyes caught sight of my dresses from topstylez and I picked out the white 'luminous dress,' the 'chloe gown,' and the navy 'sophie sequin dress.' I took my 'halle' heels from Aldo along with a pair of gold stilettos. I was wearing my white converse tonight, so I threw in my maroon vans as my alternative. I packed in my undergarments - bralettes and panties - and my teal lightweight zip hoodie to sleep in. And then I was left to pack my essentials - face wash, chapstick, Always liners, Excedrin, toothbrush and toothpaste, body lotion, deodorant, dry shampoo, a hairbrush, hair ties, and perfume. And then the last thing I had to put in my suitcase was my beige and navy Kate Spade crossbody bag and some jewelry - a few chokers, some rings, my Kendra Scott necklaces, and some earrings. Before I zipped up my suitcase, I laid a black maxi trench coat on top of everything.
It was eight thirty by the time I had finished packing and I went straight for the shower. The outfit I was wearing to go was a pair of white jeggings, a pastel pink crewneck with bell sleeves, and a slate colored over the knee suede boots. I got dressed and put on minimal makeup. I grabbed my luggage and my phone and headed downstairs.
Just as I stepped off the last stair, backpack slung on my back and suitcase in tow, the doorbell rang. I tugged my suitcase along and went right for the door, opening it for Phoenix. He was there, dressed in a very well tailored Cambridge grey suit. He looked crisp, his hair however was messy, clear as crystal he had been running his hand through it over and over again. I felt plain and under dressed standing before him.
"Adrianna, you look beautiful," he stated simply.
"Thank you, Phoenix," I whisper, avoiding his eyes. I walk outside, turning back once more to give my mansion a look over before pulling the door in and locking it. My dad wasn't home, he was gone on yet another business trip for god knows how long, so there wasn't really anyone to say goodbye to. How even was I supposed to tell him that I'm going on a trip with Phoenix Worthington to New York City?
He motioned for me to walk first and as I did, he took my suitcase handle in his, our hands lightly brushing. I pulled away quickly as if he had burned me and grabbed onto my backpack straps for comfort.
We were both silent, in the car on the way to the airport and even during the checkout time. He was on his phone, or he was constantly checking it, typing away like no one's business and I pulled out my laptop, typing up a project proposal.
We had about half an hour until our flight boarded and we weren't getting up from the cafe table we had been sitting at for at least another fifteen minutes. I was running thin with my patience and the goddamn project proposal I'd been typing. It had been and idea that hit me when I showered and now, trying to remember it, trying to type it out, it seemed almost impossible. I looked from my laptop screen, Phoenix still had his head bent low looking at his phone, and I looked around the airport. My eyes landed on Starbucks and Muji. Phoenix Worthington, go to hell. I got out my wallet from my backpack and my phone from the table and stood up promptly. His head snapped up and he stared at me wide-eyed.
"I'm going to Muji and then Starbucks, do you want anything?" He opened his mouth to tell me to sit, but I glared at him, "Do you want anything," I asked through gritted teeth. He closed his mouth and frowned, looking a bit lost before shaking his head and pulling out his wallet and handing me a centurion card. He just handed me his black card. Holy fuck.
"Watch my stuff, yea?" I asked rudely before turning on my heels and heading to Muji.
§
We were seated in first class, next to each other, and I don't think the tension, the air between us could have been any more suffocating. I had the window seat while he had the aisle seat and while I was leaned toward the window, looking out, he was sitting straight, he had his shoulders arched over, his head bent low and his eyes fixated on his phone. He did all his business through his phone though he had a laptop in his messenger bag. It was like we had nothing to do with each other - to any stranger's eyes, we looked like we weren't even here together, that we were strangers.
—
We land and it's 3:09am and I'm pretty much half awake. I spent most of the flight writing and I shut Phoenix out by keeping my earphones in the entire time.
We were now walking out of the airport, he had our suitcases and all I had was my backpack. We walked into a garage and I followed him and as he led us to his car I'm guessing. I was squinting, my eyes were threatening to close. He pulled around keys from where, I don't know, and we stopped at a dark blue convertible - an Aston Martin Vanquish S. Holy mother of fuck. He put our luggage in the trunk and he got in the driver's seat while I got in shotgun.
Now, if I thought I was half asleep after the flight, I was clearly lying to myself. My eyes widen and I gasp when Phoenix parks in the garage of 432 Park Avenue. Immediately, all the sleepiness left my body and was replaced with some sort of rush of emotion that made my adrenaline pump. There was no way we were staying at 432 Park Avenue. Of all the times I'd come here with my dad, this building was always just a place of dreams.
"Come on, Adrianna," Phoenix held open my door for me. Luggage in his hands, we walked out the garage toward the front doors of luxurious building and I stared up at it in awe.
"Worthington," he said to the older man. He nods his head and checks us in before handing Phoenix a key.
"Raziel, can I have a second key please," Phoenix asks and Raziel gives him a pointed look, "I'll be sure to return both when we check out," he mutters to which Raziel nods and hands him a second key.
Phoenix lived in the priciest penthouse - at 87.7 million. He lived - or owned? - the biggest penthouse of 432 Park Avenue. It was on the ninety-fifth floor of the luxury residential building and I knew for a fact that it was the biggest residence of the building - having six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, - his and hers master bathrooms as well - a wood burning fireplace, twelve foot ceilings, and the apartment had its own private elevator.
"And this, this is my house in New York City," he whispered, flickering on the lights as we stepped inside said penthouse. My jaw dropped and my eyes wandered around, completely mesmerized. It was fucking huge, yet simplistic and minimalistic. It screamed luxurious.
"Th-this is yours?" I whisper incredulously.
"Yes?" He said a bit nervously, "And this is your key," he said in his normal, bold tone, "Come on, I'll show you around."
"And this your bedroom," he finished off. He showed me around and I was simply amazed. He laid my suitcase on the floor at the end of my bed and walked out. My bed room was adjoined to the master 'her' bath and the room next to that was Phoenix's - the master bedroom. My room was a light beige - a golden beige, there was a king sized bed, glass windows that were walls for two sides of the room and they also had seat with fluffy white pillows. There were two light beige chairs and a glass table along with a bedside table and wall lamp.
Around the penthouse was much similar. The bathrooms and kitchen were dressed in marble, and there was a dining table and a living room, and my god, it looked like it came straight out of a magazine. The cabinets were clearly custom and throughout the apartment were chrome fixtures and oak floors. The all around windows gave perfect views north, east, south, and west of the city line. My feet took me to Phoenix's room and I stood in the door frame, taking everything in, wanting to remember the beauty. He caught sight almost immediately and instead of yelling or pushing me out, he smirked. He popped out in the plain and simple room. Standing in the middle of the tan walls, laptop balanced on his arm, phone balanced between his shoulder and ear, he stood shirtless and his canvas of a body stood out. It wasn't something that could've been missed. He didn't say anything as I let my eyes wander around and I shamelessly flickered my eyes over his body multiple times.
"Like what you see, étoile filante?" I know he was talking about himself and I couldn't help but nod. I couldn't lie, - to him or myself - looking at Phoenix shirtless was like looking at a GQ cover. I could not help the tug I felt in my lower stomach and the wetness I felt in my panties from just watching him. He was a fucking Adonis. I loved what I saw, the room and his physique, and he was a clear contrast to him being in suits, you really do miss the beautiful ink.
And I thought my room was big - absolutely not! His room was the masters bedroom and it was probably the size of my bedroom and en suite put together from my mansion back in Florida. And his room was adjoined to the masters 'his' bathroom so I decided to be daring and step inside his room and walk into the bathroom. And fuck me, but the bathroom was a literal dream. I was dazed and I just stood there, staring, for however long, and he must've thought something was wrong with me.
It's four o' clock now and I decided it would be smart to try and sleep; I had no idea what Phoenix had planned for tomorrow, but he was definitely busy. He had his door locked now and I could hear hushed whispers when I walked out of my room and into the kitchen in search of food. I walk back into my room and lock the door and then head straight into the en suite, stripping my clothes off, stepping in the shower. As I shower, I look out the window and find happiness in the empty streets and dark blue sky. I barely catch myself falling asleep under the warm stream jet and I step out, wrapping myself in my towel. I slip into my fleece navy joggers and teal zip up and get into my bed.
§
My eyes snap open. I lurch forward in a sitting position. I'm drenched in cold sweat. I'm trembling unstoppably. And I'm struggling to breathe.
I was in the middle of another nightmare - about my mom's death. The details were vivid and I was brought right back to that night. Breathing hard and struggling to catch my breath, I grab my phone from the bedside table and see that it's only 4:57 am. I barely got any sleep but there was no way I'd fall back asleep now.
I got up and let my feet take me where ever and I didn't realise I had tears streaking down my face until I took a sear on the window seat in the living room and I raised my hand to wipe my face. My sleeves became damp with my tears and I just cried harder thinking about my mom. I didn't know how she came into my dreams - nightmares? - tonight, I hadn't thought about that night in a while. Everything of that night was flashing in my head and there were warning bells going off in my head to stop thinking about that night. But I just couldn't, those thoughts came to me and took over my mind like a wildfire. I sighed and leaned my head against the glass, watching as the sky brightened a bit and people started their commute.
I knew Phoenix was a morning person somehow - he is planning to be a CEO right? - but I really didn't expect him to come out of his room at 5:30, dressed in a well tailored suit and tie, hair slicked back, and ready to go with his backpack that he seemed to carry his laptop and papers in. So just imagine my surprise when I hear his bedroom door open and close softly and he walks into the kitchen and brews coffee. My head snaps over to his and his snaps to mine and our eyes meets and widen at the same time.
"Phoenix," I rush out the same time, "Adrianna," slips out of his lips.
"What are you doing up?" He asks first.
I shrug and look back out the window, "I couldn't really sleep, I guess," the vaguer my answers, the better. I think.
"Did you sleep at all?" He asks the question as if he already knows the answer and just wants to hear me say it.
"I dunno," I pause, "I fell asleep around four and woke up about half an hour ago," another shrug. I was praying he wouldn't walk over to me because if he did, he'd see the tears that ran down my face, I wouldn't have to say anything, he'd just give me one look and know I was broken.
"You should try and get some sleep, Adrianna," he said softly as he moved swiftly around the kitchen. He brewed his coffee and made himself what looked to be a baguette sandwich. He stuffed it with basil, sliced tomatoes, arugula, brie, and drizzling vinaigrette.
We hadn't talked at all after that and then about half and hour later and three mugs of coffee - for him - later, he was walking out the door.
"I'll see you in a few hours, étoile, I have a business conference and some work to do in the office."
§
I was bored out of my fucking mind. I wandered around the penthouse only about a million and one times before finally settling in a corner window seat with my laptop and phone. I had a croissant and caesar salad for brunch and then I took a shower a shower and it was now three in the afternoon. I opened up my english assignment and began typing up the paper. Something having to do with Shakespeare and Romeo and Juliet. What a bloody sob story. They were self centered and most definitely selfish - they died for themselves. How the fuck does that work?
I was on the fifth page when my phone dinged and it was a text from the one and only Hunter.
hunter bazzi; hey adri, where r u ?
hunter bazzi; i stopped @ ur house earlier but no one answered ? are u @ worthington's ?
me; actually no, i'm not with either. i am however with phoenix.
Not a second later came Hunter's reply.
hunter bazzi; ur w phoenix ? where ?
me; um, new york city ?
hunter bazzi; wtf ? why ?
hunter bazzi; why didn't u tell me ?
me; well i didn't know myself until yesterday morning when he spontaneously tells me we're leaving for a flight at night.
me; and i dunno, he just dragged me along ? he's here on a business trip though.
hunter bazzi; oh
hunter bazzi; when u coming back ?
me; not sure, he didn't really tell me much
hunter bazzi; tf? well u better make sure u come back !!
me; i will doughnut worry but he did say just for the weekend. so we'll either be back tomorrow night or monday morning.
As my phone went off, the door opened and my head snapped in the direction to see Phoenix walking through. He was tense and most definitely pissed off. His phone rang and he let out a string of expletives before answering it.
"Worthington. What can I do for you?"
"..."
"Excuse me?"
"..."
"That fucking bastard," he growled.
"..."
"What?" He said through gritted teeth.
"He was fucking playing me this entire time, goddamnit."
"..."
"I don't care," he stated calmly, "Destroy him," he finished coolly and ended the call.
"Adrianna, hi," he muttered out, looking in my direction.
"You okay there?" I asked amusedly. He narrowed his eyes playfully.
"No not really," he tilted his head up to look at the ceiling, "I think I'm going to need my étoile filante to make me better," he pouted. I laughed melodiously, throwing my head back. "I think I'll stay right here," I giggled. He frowned deeply looking cute and it was enough to make my insides tingle.
"But you're sure nothing's wrong?" I asked lightly in a more serious tone.
He cleared his throat, "I'm okay, étoile, just pissed with a business deal gone wrong."
"Oh-"
"But you can make me happy again," he cut me off.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes, if you come for a walk around Midtown with me." Did he just ask me out?
"Okay," came out of my mouth before I could think. His face lit up and he smiled a dazzling smile.
"Dress classy.
"Even though you look sexy in just the plainest of things," he muttered the last part. But apparently he muttered it loud enough for me to hear; my cheeks tint pink and I look down at my laptop as he laughs wholeheartedly and goes to his room.
§
I was dressed in the navy blue dress along with my heels from Aldo and I walked out of my room with my Kate Spade hanging from my shoulder and trench coat and phone in hand. Phoenix was already waiting, leaning against the counter with his head dipped low, eyes fixated on his phone. Whether he knew I was in the room or not, I took the time to look at him. His tattoos were hiding again and he was dressed in an all black suit along with a black trench coat and black Chelsea boots. His hair was messy, as always, and his forehead crinkled as he read something on his phone.
He looked up and our eyes immediately met each others though he broke off the stare first, his eyes trailing up and down my down. I was nervous - I think? - only because this dress was favorite one without being too simple yet too classy. But I also knew that this dress was a bit tight and it accentuated my curves and my figure in general. His eyes darkened and I had no idea what he was thinking. Though I'm pretty sure it was nothing but lust in his eyes, he wasn't exactly the easiest person to read so I could never be too sure.
"Come here, beautiful," he pronounced the word carefully and held out his hand for me. I walked up to him and took his willingly.
§
We were at the Sugar Factory. Holy shit. Phoenix and I were walking hand in hand after he gave his key off for valet parking. And now walking inside the restaurant, it was as if we were royalty of some sort, heads turned in our direction and I just couldn't help but turn my head in his chest to hide. And if I wasn't completely delusional - and probably hallucinating, who knows - I'm pretty sure I heard "aw" from some in the crowd waiting to be seated along with camera shutters. It wasn't until we were following a waiter to a booth - he already made reservations, god knows when - that I realised that I was, in fact, walking with Phoenix Worthington, the future CEO of Worthington Industries. It didn't and wouldn't matter where in hell we were, he was news. He was always going to be the center of attention wherever we went. After he draped my coat on the back of my chair and took his seat, it was then that I looked at him and glared in a playful manner.
He was surprised and these were one of the few times that I'd be able to see his emotions in clear cut clarity. A look of nervousness flickered in his eyes, like panic almost, "What? What's wrong, Adrianna?" He was panicking, his voice said it all and it quite hilarious.
"If I see myself on the front page of any newspaper, there will be something wrong," I said simply with an arched eyebrow before settling with a smile on my face and leaning back on my seat once I saw his eyes widen. I then proceeded to ignore him and inspect my matte maroon painted nails. He groaned after a moment and propped his elbows on the table, putting his head in his hands.
"Elbows off the table, Worthington!" I snapped at him and laughed, "Did you not learn proper table etiquette?"
He looked up at me, directly in my eyes, his eyes shades darker than his usual, "If you keep trying me, Vasiliev, I might just show you proper table etiquette," and it was my turn for my eyes to widen. I did not miss that double meaning. I blink twice at him, blanking out, before I cross my leg over the other and look down at my hands in my lap. He didn't sound like he was fucking joking either.
I hadn't even noticed a waiter come by our booth until Phoenix started speaking, "Yes, we'll take one ocean blue goblet. And for appetisers, we'll have bruschetta and baked brie wrapped in puff pastry." He waved the waiter away and then settled for staring right into my eyes. I felt vulnerable in that moment, like all of myself was open for display, for him and him alone. I felt as if he could figure everything about me in that moment, and it was unsettling. Was it? Or was I okay with him knowing everything about me? I would tell him willingly either way, he had some sort of spell on me. He was playing the game, and we'd go up into flames. And never had dancing in ashes sound more tempting.
Those were the few lines that I found myself repeating in my head continuously since I'd met Phoenix Worthington. I was a broken mess, and clearly he was wreck, and he was driving, steering us in any and every direction possible. It was only a matter of time before we'd crash and burst into flames. And I didn't think I minded much as long as it was with him. What has he done to me? What have I done to myself?
We were eating our main dishes now, I had a seafood platter whilst he had the Branzino Provencal. The goblet had gone up in bubbles and smoke and it was certainly a sight to see. I had to have had one of the stupidest smiles plastered on my face.
Once we'd finish, Phoenix completely ignored me trying to help pay and pulled out a credit card of his own. He stood up then and I followed and after he helped me get on my coat, he pulled on his own and we walked out the brasserie together.
Returning back to the penthouse, it was only six thirty, yet it seemed very earlier for the brooding man next to me. I opened up the door as the idiot had his eyes preoccupied with his phone. I literally had to pull on his wrist and drag him inside. Mother-trucker. I had pushed in the door and turned around just in time to see Phoenix raise his hand with his phone, ready to throw it across the room. I grabbed his wrist, twisting it, painfully may I add, "I wouldn't do that if I were you," I said through gritted teeth. In that moment, something had snapped inside of me and my anger had risen faster than the stock market grew but was volatile seconds later. He was momentarily shocked, caught off guard for the second time today, but it was gone within seconds as a hardened look took over his features. He was about to challenge me, but he closed his mouth wisely. Looks like he's gotten used to my bipolar moods.
When he was calm and no longer looking like he was going to wreck havoc, I removed my hand from his and smiled, "Good," I nodded in approval and walked toward my room. I hear him scoff and hear him say 'excuse me,' while I just laugh and shut my door.
"Verónica or Dead Poets Society?" Came his loud and bellowing voice while I was changing out of my dress and into a pair of joggers and my FSU hoodie. "Verónica," I yell back as I pulled my hair into a high ponytail. Well, if we're watching movies in 432 Park Avenue with Phoenix Worthington, might as well watch a scary one.
§
An hour into the movie, and two bowls of popcorn later, we were both laughing at what was supposed to be scary when Phoenix gets a call and he takes it. And though the room was completely dark - save for the tv - I watched as his eyes darken and his face become void of emotion. I paused the movie and watched him silently, he groaned and muttered some incoherents before standing up. I stayed in my spot, curled up in a white duvet on the fluffy white rug and look up at him.
"Everything okay?" He looked over at me frowning.
"I have to go," he muttered, a somber look on his face, "I'm sorry, Adrianna," he said looking genuinely sorry. And I believed it. I believed him. It didn't bother me much at all, we hadn't planned to come and watch movies or just hang out, that just kind of happened.
"It's okay," I said with a smile and a small nod, "You have business to tend you, the industry is in your hands."
"You're sure it's okay?"
I laugh, "Phoenix, it is absolutely okay, I promise."
"I'm sorry," he said under his breath as he answered his ringing phone again while shrugging on his jacket.
And then he was out the door.
§
Hours have gone by. Literally. It was eleven pm now and Phoenix had yet to return. I hadn't finished the film and instead came into my room. And now here I was laying in my bed, on my laptop. I was working on a collection of poetry and prose while also working on my english paper.
I had been writing for about an hour and a half I think, before I decided to save my drafts and go reading - on my laptop. I wasn't sure, but all I knew was the last time I checked the clock, it was 01:30 am. Since then, fifteen minutes had gone by and my eyes were constantly closing and I was exhausted. I was trying to stay awake for Phoenix, at least until he came home. But I was falling in and out of conscious and before I knew it, I was succumbing to the sleep that consumed me entirely.
«««»»»
monday 29 january
12:37 in the afternoon
We were in the airport, our flight boarding in a little under a half hour. This weekend had to be one of favorites I've had in a while. Just living in 432 Park Avenue for three days was excitement enough for me. But he took me out to the Sugar Factory and he surprised me yesterday, taking me to Bookcon. I was surprised, to say the least, and while I had it written clear on my face, he only smirked and shrugged.
'I told you we'd do everything on that bucketlist of yours, did I not?' Is what he'd said went was rendered quite speechless being presented in front of the convention. He had failed to mention that we were going there when he told me to get dressed, but nevertheless, I was fucking ecstatic.
And now we were flying back home. I had barely talked with Pyper, hell, all the guys of the crew and I did feel slightly bad not telling them. But it hadn't exactly crossed my mind while we stayed and I had told Hunter in case of anything.
As I stepped over the threshold of the boarding gate, I turned back once more to look around the airport. And realised that though I was only here for the weekend, I would definitely miss the city.
§
16:15 pm
We were just about to land and I was anxious to get back home. I was tired and only wanted my bed and soft vinyls playing in the background. We grabbed out luggage and made our way our the airport into the garage. He found his car within minutes and I actually wondered how. I got into shotgun and he keyed the engine, silence settling between us.
It wasn't until we were in front of my house that he spoke up amidst the soft music playing,
"Oh and Adrianna, we have an art gallery tonight at 7, I'll be outside at 6:15," and he drove off. I stood on the sidewalk with my jaw dropped.
What the hell?!
–––
432 park avenue. a whole dream. a whole fucking dream that i want to live.