Hey.
Her text bubbles pop up after a minute but then disappear. I give her another minute, but she doesn't reply, and under my messagereadappears.
Did she just turn her read recipes on?
So you just use me for my photography skills then toss me aside? Cold.
Oh, you should not be talking about using people then tossing them aside and being cold.
Okay… clearly, she's offended I ignored her, although I could've guessed that since she felt the need to tell Moon.
I decide not to go back and forth with her over text, but as I reread her message, guilt eats at me, and I call James, my pilot.
“Mr. Walker?”
“Can we have the jet ready to leave in forty-five minutes? I need to go back to LA.”
There’s a hesitation on his end. “So soon? You only just landed in New York last night?”
“Can we leave in forty-five minutes or not?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
I end the call and get up for a quick shower.
I look out of mycar and watch as people walk in and out of this weird coffee shop. Whoever designed this place needs to be fired because it was obvious they couldn’t pick one design. There's so much going on, and the entire place looks like sunshine and rainbows. I shake my head at the reminder of Jordan's nickname for Sage, and of course, she likes it here. This place is the location version of her.
I keep my eyes on the door, but after just a few minutes, a few people start to notice me. If I could simply play baseball and cash in my checks without the fame, I would. After I give one person my autograph, I put my car window up so no one else can ask or take pictures of me.
I start to think she just came here that one time, but just as I’m about to drive off, I glance in the mirror and see that smile of hers. She's talking to a girl beside her, and I put my window down a bit.
“I promise–” She laughs loudly as she takes the hand of the girl she's with. “No, I promise when they first opened all of the drinks were horrible, but their current barista is amazing.” She walks right past me, and they go into the shop together.
I wait outside for her, and the girl she was with comes out first. When I glance into the coffee shop, she’s lost in a conversation with both baristas. I have no clue what she’s saying, but the guy who should be taking orders is justwatchingher. His face is red as fuck; as if he’s in love and is about to get on one damn knee. I decide to go in after all and grab the small bag in the seat beside me. The minute I walk in, my ears are assaulted by the torture music they're playing, and I curse myself for putting my ears through this, but I walk further in.
“Oh, I love this song!”Of course, she does. The cashier, unfortunately, puts it louder for her. She starts dancing, swaying to the ear-bleeding music with a beat that doesn't sound so terrible now that she is moving to it.
I walk over to the fridge since I’ve been watching her for way too long. I grab a water, and when I turn, her eyes land on me. She stalls in her movement, looking like a deer in headlights with her doe eyes as embarrassment covers her expression.
“Sage,” I say cooly with a small nod.
“Hey…” She trails off, looking a little confused by my appearance.
I walk to the counter, and she moves aside so I can pay. I feel her curious gaze boring into me, but she doesn’t speak up again. When I glance over at her, my eyes scan at the rest of her frame, and I really take her in. She’s in a skin-tight pink dress that fades into purple at the end, and it hugs every last one of her curves perfectly. The bright color makes her skin look as good as ever.
She keeps her eyes on the barista in front of us as she plays with the end of her hair. She doesn’t have braids like the last time I saw her; instead, it’s curly and a really light brown, reaching her waist.
Sage finally looks at me again, filling the awkward silence, “I don't normally see you around here. Did you recently move?” It'sclear she's just asking out of politeness, and I don't miss how standoffish she's being.
I shake my head. “I have a penthouse downtown, but I don’t live here.”
She looks confused, but I don’t elaborate on how I'm only ever in LA for my mom. Before she can ask another question, because I’m sure she’s going to, I hand her the small bag in my hand.
“What is this?” She's already peeking into the bag as she asks.
“Open it.” I grab her drink, allowing her hands to be free.
She opens her gift, and her smile lights up the entire room as she pulls out the camera. “Is this forme?!”
