The Promise

one

Year 2014 - Spring:

"Yes ma'am... Yes, I apologize." I look up at my friend, rolling my eyes. She's on a call too, and hers doesn't seem much better than mine.

"Sir, I'm not sure what you want me to do here," she says into the phone.

Working a customer service call line is so excruciatingly awful- the endless complaints, getting yelled at over things that weren't your fault. I learned that no matter how much advice you give a person, they'll still complain.

The woman on my line decides she's done whining and abruptly hangs up. I take off my headset, exasperated. For a brief moment, I take in my surroundings. The drab office I've been working in the past few months was just that: drab. White walls, cubicles, fluorescent lights. I look to my friend and cubicle mate again.

"Well, if you aren't gonna listen to my advice, you might as well hang up because-," she looks up at me, taking off her headset and smoothing down her short, blonde hair. She's always pulled things like that with callers despite the endless seminars we were forced to take on customer relations. I'm genuinely surprised she hasn't been reprimanded for it before. "Works every time." She smirks.

Sophia and I have been friends for what seems like forever, when in reality it's been about three years. We were dorm neighbors in college who both hated our roommates. She's always been outspoken and somewhat blunt. One time, she even pretended to have a mental breakdown on a call to shut a woman up. Life was never boring with her around.

"Thank God it's finally time to leave this horrible office," she says while we gather our things and head toward the elevator.

The doors open to reveal two men. By their pristine suits and gelled down hair, I immediately know they're from the eighth floor.

Sophia and I step inside. I feel like choking on the amount of cologne these guys are wearing.

"Sophia," One of the men nods to her.

"Adam," she replies while flashing him a toothy smile.

I look around nervously. Since when did Sophia know any eighth floor guys? I stand there uncomfortably feeling the tension fill the air.

Soon enough, the elevator comes to a stop on the ground floor. The two walking, talking suits start toward the parking garage reserved for upper-level company employees while Sophia and I start towards the lot outside.

"Um, anything you want to tell me about that little encounter back there?" I turn to her with both confusion and concern spread across my face.

"Nope!" She hurries into her car, avoiding the conversation. I stand, leaning against my car as she slams her door shut, starts the car, and buckles her seatbelt in rapid succession. "Bye, Lydia!" she calls from the window, driving off.

God. There are so many things I love about Soph, but her secrecy isn't one of them. I need a best friend who will tell me everything; no secrets.

What could she possibly see in an eighth floor stooge, anyway?

---

My favorite part about coming home is making a cup of tea. I love the way the smell fills my small adobe, but, most importantly, it love it because it just tastes really, really great.

I rush to my cupboard and take out everything I need to make my delicious cup of heaven before  haphazardly filling the teapot. After turning the stove on and gently setting the teapot on it, I go check the mail.

I step out into the warm, spring evening. 5:30 PM is, seriously, the perfect time of day, I think to myself. The birds are still chirping, and the sun is still bright without the unbearable heat.

I make my way down my driveway before stopping in front of a simple white mailbox, my mailbox, to be exact. I open it, expecting bill after bill after bill. Reaching in, I pull out a thick stack of mail. Geez, I sigh. There's no way I'm going to have any shopping money if these are all bills. I close the mailbox and shuffle my way back into my house.

This is by far the worst part of every day. Getting last chance payment notifications and more bills piling up. I take a seat at a barstool in the kitchen and begin to sort through the stack.

Credit card bill. Car payment. Electric Bill. Water Bill. Insurance payment.

I place the last bill in another stack I'd created to reveal the last piece of mail- a lavender envelope. I turn it over to find the return address, but instead, I see nothing but my first name written in flawless script.

A hand delivered letter? I tear through the envelope, puzzled.

I pull out the contents of the envelope and stare at the thick ivory card. I raise one eyebrow in curiosity. If this is a bill, it's certainly a nicely presented one. Watercolor vines creep across the sides of the page, framing a delicately drawn pair of white doves.

Pondering what the card could be for, I find myself thinking it would be the perfect wedding invitation if I were ever to get married. 

I slowly flip open the ornate card, littered with more vines and doves. I begin to read.

You're invited to attend the wedding of Louis Tomlinson & Eleanor Calder.

I sit, stunned, turning the card over in my hands to examine it further.

I can't believe he remembered.

I can't believe he remembered our promise.

 

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy the first chapter! This is my first story on wattpad, so please bear with me. Credit goes to @emmawrites1D for the amazing idea. She's got a whole book of them if you guys are ever stuck! I'd also like to thank @nytryce for being my BFF and editor. I would've never sat down and written if it weren't for her.