Chance

FOUR

CHAPTER FOUR

I awake the next morning to a note on my pillow. I feel a sinking in my stomach. I read the scrawl on the paper, but it's really messy. All I can decipher from the note is "-Flynn" at the end. I can tell it's supposed to have a phone number written on it, but other than that, it's too messy to read. I suppose he can't be perfect in every way. Feeling slightly deflated, I tucked the note away into my nightstand.

By the end of the night, the only thing I was drunk on were Flynn's kisses and his intoxicating touch, so I'm lucky enough not to wake with a hangover this morning. I pick my phone up to see that I have three missed facetime calls from Molly. Curious as to what her dramatic situation would be this time, I call her back.

"Oh Issy, thank God." She says, exasperated. "I really need your thoughts on something." She holds up a couple of dresses.

"One hundred percent the black one." I say, helping her choose a dress. "What's the occasion?"

"My sister's bachelorette, remember?" I didn't remember, until just now. "You forgot, didn't you?"

I shake my head, trying to convince her otherwise. When my hair moves as I shake my head, Molly lets out a startling sound.

"Isabelle Juliet Moore." She puts her hand on her chest, acting shocked. "Is that a HICKEY on your neck?!"

My hand immediately flies up to my neck, remembering that detail from last night. Just the thought of Flynn's lips is enough to send goosebumps down my spine. I feel my cheeks flush, as I sweep my brown locks back over the evidence. "I don't know what you're talking about." I try to play it off, half heartedly.

"Do you think I'm stupid? Details, now." She demands. I wasn't about to argue with the most dramatic woman on the face of the earth, so I tell her everything. "Wow, so he left you a note that you can't even read?"

I sigh, with a nod. "Yep." I feel a sadness course through me as I wonder whether I would ever see him again.

"So we'll search for him. You know how good I am at Facebook stalking." She winks. "Besides, how hard can it be? He's given you all the information you need."

I grab my phone and open Facebook. I type 'Flynn Collins' in the search bar and his picture comes up immediately. Huh, she must have been right.

"I've found his profile already." I say to her, and she boasts about how she's always right. I inspect his page briefly, but notice that there's no option to send a friend's request or a message. 'It's a fucking private account Moll." I groan

"No, what? Seriously? Let me look." She says. "I mean, all of his info is private. But it says he's in a relationship."

A lump formed in my throat. "A relationship?" I ask. "I'm sure it's nothing. Maybe an old account or something."

"Yeah, I guess." she says. "But you know he's a mechanic on the east side, right?"

I nod my head. "I do know that much, but I don't think he mentioned which one it was exactly. There could be a dozen mechanics on the east side." I say.

"So, call them all." Molly says, as if it's the most obvious thing to do. "Is he worth chasing?"

Yes.

Maybe she was right. He made me feel so alive last night. There's no way anyone could convince me not to chase after him.

I hang up on Molly, and start searching for mechanics on the east side straight away. I ring the first on the list, and with no luck I try the second. And then the third, and fourth and fifth. As I scroll to the next one on the list, I roll my eyes at what an idiot I am. Maybe I should have looked at all the names first, and called the shop called 'Collins Mechanics' before I made a fool of myself.

The phone rings and I wait for an answer. "Hello, Collins Mechanics. How can I help?" A familiar sounding voice sung through the phone.

"Flynn?" I question, unsure.

"Uh, no ma'am. This is Nate Collins. Flynn's my brother though. Can I take a message for you?"

"Could you please tell Flynn that Isabelle said he has the penmanship of a three year old, and let him know that I'd like him to call me on this number when he has some time to spare?" I ask Nate. It was crazy how alike they sound.

I could hear some scuffling sounds from the other end of the line, and a little yelling. "Give me that."

"Hello?" I query into the phone.

"Isabelle?" It's Flynn. Now that I hear his voice, I know the difference. Flynn's sent a tickle down my spine.

"Did your brother pass my message on?" I tease.

"Uh, yeah." He says, sounding almost short. "Listen, I'm sorry but I can't really do this right now."

"Wait, Fly-" I try to make sense of what was going on, but the call cuts out. He hung up on me.

I am so confused. How did last night turn into this? . I'm not sure what to feel, as I toss my phone onto the pillow beside me.

I try to block out the memories from last night, which is so hard to do, especially when the evidence is still fresh. There's still a dress on my living room floor, my underwear and a condom wrapper are on my nightstand. There's a dark purple hickey sticking out like a sore thumb on the side of my neck.

I understand that one night stands exist, but that's not what last night feels like. I've had enough of those to know the difference. I know the drill, root scoot baby.

But this one, it just hurts.

...