Playboy (Colby Brock X Reader)

5.

I kick the front door shut behind me, my hands occupied by two lattes. Morgan looks up at me from over the couch, the same look of annoyance on her face from when I left.

"Still nothing?" I ask, trying to hide my disinterest. Her hand reaches for the latte and I give it to her.

"It's been three days man, I thought we really hit it off." I listen as I take a seat next to her.

Jake hasn't answered any of her texts in days. Likewise, I haven't heard anything from Colby either, not that I even had a way of contacting him to begin with. I've easily detached myself from the idea of us becoming anything romantic, but the two nights we spent together were fun while it lasted.

"Just forget about him," I encourage honestly, "I was thinking," I take a slow sip of my drink, enjoying the rush of hazelnut hitting my tongue, "Why don't we go to LA for a night? Get a hotel room? A few bottles of Whitney? Girls night?"

She sits silently for a moment in thought, the plastic cup resting on her lips while she contemplates, "Come on!" I urge, earning a sideways look, "Besides, I'm sure you'll manage to find a dude in LA who will gladly return your calls."

"Yeah, I guess." She smirks, returning her gaze back to the wall. I jump on the couch and trap her in a hug. She grunts at my weight and struggles to keep her latte from spilling.

"Fuck guys!" I shout, trying to cheer her up.

***

"Fuck...fuck-" I freeze outside the hotel room, Morgan's moans audible through the door.

My grip loosens on the bag hiding two bottles of liquor I got from the corner store. I can't help but sigh. So much for a girls night. I walk down the hall until I hit silence before I pull my phone out.

Call me when you're done.
I send the text before trudging back to the elevator and descending down to the lobby. The entrance doors slide open and I step back out into the rush of the city.

Many faces and bodies pass by in front of me on the sidewalk. I pick a random direction and walk, with no particular destination. The sky is beginning to fade into a cocktail of orange and pink.

I feel my phone vibrate, buried in my back pocket. I fish it out, expecting a text back from Morgan, but I slow my pace seeing a text from an unknown number.

Wyd? 

I send a question mark in response, thoroughly confused.

It's Colby.

How'd you get my number? I write back.

Jake.

Morgan must've gave it to him? Another text pops up.

You didn't answer my question, Y/N.

I turn a corner and come across a bench. I sit down before replying.

Currently wandering around LA. Why?

Where?

My heart begins to pound in my chest. I can't decide if it's from excitement or fear.

Why?

You suck at answering questions.

I text him the street I'm on. He replies quickly.

Can I pick you up? I'm about 15 minutes away.

Why?

See you in 15.