One Number.

Chap. 1

Usually, I'm more careful with my things. Usually, I have enough common sense to realize that taking my phone with me while on a boat would be a bad idea. Usually, I’m not stupid enough to jump into a lake, fully clothed, phone in back pocket.

But having one too many beers can change that, obviously.

So that’s how I got here, sat at my kitchen table, desperately trying to remember my roommate's number. 

Having to buy a brand new phone sucked. I had tried to save my old one, but it had been fully submerged for at least 3 minutes and was a complete goner. Even worse, the only phone numbers I had memorized in my entire life were the pizza place 2 blocks away, and my mom’s. 

I sighed in frustration and set the phone down on the table, holding my head in my hands as if that would somehow drag up the memory of what Sam’s, my roommate, number is.

I hadn’t had a phone for a few days now, and with her staying at her girlfriend’s house- that was oh so conveniently nearly 3 hours away- she had no way of reaching me and was probably worried that I got killed by a crazy axe murderer or something. 

I lifted my head out of my hands and grabbed the phone again, once again attempting to remember the number and call it. 

“Fuck it.” I whispered, typing in the number that looked the most correct. I remember it had a bunch of 4s in it.

I sighed, clicked the little red phone button and held the phone to my ear. I sat there as it rang for what seemed like hours, rolling my eyes when I heard that automated voice begin to say, 

“Your call has been forwarded to-”.

Typical. She was probably out partying with her girlfriend again. Which was completely fine, but once in a while it would be nice to not have my call go to voicemail. 

I waited for the automated voice to stop so I could record my message, finally pulling out of my train of thought when I heard a small ‘beep’ sound through my phone's speakers. 

“Hey, Sam. It’s Vivian, your roommate. Obviously.” I said, mentally kicking myself for being stupid. “Just wanted to let you know that I am not dead and that I got a new phone. Call or text me back if you get this.” I pulled the phone away from my ear and pressed the ‘end call’ button, setting it back down on the table.

Well, shit. 

I just dropped nearly 600 bucks on a new phone, and I don’t even get paid until next week.

“I am never drinking again.” I mumbled. 

I looked at the time on my watch.
Oh shit. 

I have to get to work in less than 30 minutes. 

I ran into my bedroom, throwing on a random pair of jeans and a long sleeved shirt, quickly brushing out my hair and putting on small earrings. I sat at my vanity and quickly touched up my makeup, adding a small amount of eyeshadow around my gray eyes. I grabbed a black scrunchie and tied my hair up in a ponytail, pulling small strands of my dark brown hair from the sides to frame my face. I did a onceover on how I looked, nodding to my reflection.

I took a glance at my watch, sucking in a breath when it showed that I only had about 8 minutes to get to work. I jumped from my vanity seat, slipping on a pair of black flats and a coat, glancing at my reflection in the small mirror beside my front door for one more look.

I grabbed my keys and booked it out of the door, swiftly descending the stairs to one of my most prized possessions, my little red bug. I bought the car nearly 3 years ago, the first big purchase in my life.

 I swung open the door, immediately sitting down and turning on the ignition. I backed out of the driveway in a hurry, stepping on the gas once I was out on the road. If I went ever so slightly over the speed limit, I could make it to work on time. I sped through traffic, just barely making it with 2 minutes to spare.

 I pulled into the employee parking lot and started jogging to the back entrance, immediately clocking in and getting to work. I tied on my apron, attaching the small name tag that said ‘Vivian’ to my shirt. 

I passed one of the owners of the shop, a lovely old woman named Georgia. She is married to the other shop owner, Quincy.

“Hello, dear.” she said as she made what I assumed was someone’s coffee order. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Georgia. How are you today?” I replied, getting to work on rewriting the special on the small chalkboard near the entrance. 

“Ah, same old, same old.” she quipped, turning her head to smile at me from the other side of the counter. 

I smiled back, quietly humming while I concentrated on using the chalk to make little sketches of steaming coffee mugs and croissants around the neat, cursive words that I had already written. I set the chalk down and took a step back to examine my work, deeming it acceptable and wiping the chalk dust off of my hands and onto my apron.

 I then felt a finger press in between my shoulder blades, causing me to let out a small yelp and quickly turn around. I was about to question the customer that had the audacity to do that, but instead I was met with the kind, smiling face of my coworker, Zander. 

“G’morning, Viv.” he said, handing me my usual small coffee that he always made for me in the morning.

“Good morning to you too, dingus.” I replied, taking a small sip from my scalding hot coffee. It was always slightly too sweet, but I didn’t mind.

I watched as his smile only got bigger, and he grabbed his apron from the rack beside the kitchen entrance.

 Zander had always been sweet. He was quite tall, 5’11 to be exact. He always tried to argue that he was 6’1, but I knew the truth. He had dark, short hair and warm sunshine-y golden brown eyes, with a strong jaw and straight nose. I had to admit, he was cute. Girls constantly came in hoping to get served by him or, even better, somehow score his number. 

To be honest, it was great for business. 

“Big day today, aye?” he called out. I furrowed my brows, wondering what he meant by that and watching as he made his way back over to me.
“Y’know, since tomorrow is Thanksgiving and all..?” he said once he saw my confused expression. 

Oh. Thanksgiving. 

“I… I guess I forgot. I don’t really celebrate it anymore.” I simply said, playing with the small red bows on my apron that Mrs.Georgia had sewn on the previous year. 

It was now his turn to furrow his brows, crossing his arms as he said, “Y’know, you could always come with me up to my parents house. They never stop talking about you after you went to our New Years party. We always have room for more.” 

I shrugged, still very focused on the small bows. I was hoping to dodge this conversation this year. “I know,” I said, ”But you know I don’t exactly celebrate those big holidays anymore. Not really my thing.” 

He nodded, dropping his arms to the sides to stuff them into his apron pockets. “I know you don’t. But I still ask every year, just to be sure.” he simply said, offering me a reassuring smile. 

“And I still say no every year.” I quipped, laughing lightly. He chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. 

We stood in silence for a second before I puffed out a breath and said “Well, we’d better get to work since it probably is going to be a busy day. Looks like we have a few customers starting to come in.” I nodded to the door, watching as a few customers walked in and found their seats. He silently agreed, walking over to the counter to work the cash register. 

I began taking orders and making coffee, all the while, unbeknownst to me, I had a missed call and a few text messages on my phone that was still sitting on the dining room table, forgotten when I was hurrying out the door, all telling me that I had the wrong number. 

And that’s where this whole shitshow started.