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𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞𝟔𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟖 || 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚, 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚
❦❦❦
"Dude, can you believe we met Michael Jackson?! Lance is good for somethin' I guess," she emphasized. "He was checking you out mamita."
"No he wasn't," I gritted into the receiver. I'm currently on the phone with Yasmine talking about our Biology homework. "He's a married man with kids Yas."
Well, the conversation started off with Biology homework.
"So? He was still checkin' you out My, that's why I winked at you," she cooed. "I'm so happy he gave me this autograph. Where's yours?"
"In my dresser," I said as I wrote down the last few words of my sentence in my notebook. I closed my book and took the folded sheet of paper out from my dresser. I unraveled it and saw that there was a note just above his signature.
I wanted to thank you again for the food, it was amazing. I'll be sure to stop by soon but in the meantime, here's my number. You were so kind to me and if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll be here to return that kindness.
555-9017
- MJJ
My breath hitched at the sight of a phone number, causing me to place my hand over my mouth.
"Everything okay?" Yasmine asked.
"Uh yeah. Everything is fine," I said nervously.
A million thoughts were racing through my mind and I had no clue on which thought to focus on first. Did Michael actually give me his phone number? What if this wasn't meant for me, but for Yasmine?
"This one's for you."
Okay, so maybe this is for me.
"Earth to Maya," she gritted. "Girl, what are you doing?"
"I-I'm just looking at the autograph," I mumbled.
"There's somethin' you're not telling me. What is it, hm?" she pressed. I scoffed even though she was right. I was a terrible liar, so terrible that I always scoffed before I did. It was a habit of mine that I've failed to get rid of.
