NYC Love Stories

Chapter Three

Hi Erryboddy <3 I'm so happy people are reading my books, you guys are amazing :)

Happy Reading!

_____________________________________________

My eyes fluttered open, and I looked around. Where am I? My head pained. I rubbed my temples, but then stopping after realizing it made my head hurt even more. I blinked a couple times to make my vision clear. I noticed the walls tearing a little, with small cracks. I was sat on a bed.. a bed? No, it was just a thin mattress, on the floor. I was no interior designer like Kendall, but I knew this place needed some cleaning up and redecorating.

This obviously was a man's living environment. Not to be stereotypical, but looking around to see dirty clothes on the floor, no cleanup whatsoever, a very male-ish scent, yes, this definitely was a guy's living quarters.

I didn't know why I was here, or who brought me here. Maybe a mugger, a kidnapper, or even a rapist for all I know. Stop thinking like that. A shiver went through my spine. I decided they won't do me much harm if I just cleaned up the place.. right?

Wrong.

I looked around for a broom, or a mop, or something. When I couldn't find one, I settled on cleaning up the man's clothes first. I reached down to pick up a grey hoody, and a thin light grey shirt. Wow, this man must be very boring, seeing the amount of grey in this room. I looked back at the mattress, also grey, the walls were a white that over time turned grey. The carpet was dirty and a dark grey with a hint of a dark blue.

I shuddered. Grey.

I sniffed the hoodie I was holding, then cringed at the most foul odor. Ew. How can someone live like this? I wasn't rich before either, but I did my laundry. Just kidding.. my mom did it. Whatever.

I took out my purse, and looked inside to find a couple spare quarters and bills. Maybe, I would do this guy a favor and drop his clothes off at the Laundromat. No. Don't. Don't do that. My brain is very selfish. But kind of right.. I don't even know this guy.

I piled all the clothes in a clean garbage bag I found in the very mini kitchen, or shall I say "fun-sized"?

I pulled out a page of my "grocery list pad" and scribbled down, "Don't worry about your clothes, I took them to the Laundromat on second avenue, I think it's called "All Washed Up" but I'm not sure. 1605 second avenue. I'll bring it back over soon." I am way too nice.

I stick it on the wall, and reread it. Perfect.

Just as I was about to leave, the door opened. I gasped.

The doorman. Norman? No.. that was the other one.. the normal one.. this was the hot one.. Mason! That's what his name is. He was talking on his phone, a flip phone, and halted and hung up when he saw me.

I tried picturing this from his eyes. A girl he met last night, apparently named Nikki, according to her friend's excited words of welcome, wearing designer skinny jeans and expensive, but gorgeous shiny flats in his studio holding a large black garbage bag full of something. All his clothes are no where in sight. I think I complimented myself too much in this interpretation. Wow that sounds crazy.  

"Uh.. hi.." I break the silence. My head was full of questions.

"Wait, you live here? What am I doing here?" I started, "How did I get hurt? Why was my head hurting? Your place is a mess. Explanations, please?"

"Okay. Yes, I do live here. Problem?" He didn't pause for my answer, I guess that was a good idea, "You were clumsy enough to crash into a pole. Like seriously, how do you even do that? Yeah, well you were hurt pretty bad, so I brought you here."