Wrong Number [18+]

Chapter|4.

*Fallon*

It's Sunday morning, and I'm sitting on my couch drinking a hot cup of fresh coffee, and watching the morning news, waiting for Ally to wake up. I can't remember the last time I slept in. Every time I try, I just end up lying there, staring up at the ceiling.

Yes, I'm pathetic.

I check my phone for the hundredth time, checking to see if Ray has called yet. I expected him to call me in at some point. Guess he didn't need me after all.

I hear a thump come from upstairs and immediately know that Ally is awake. Every time she wakes up in someone else's bed, she ends up hitting the floor readying herself for her escape. She'll calm down once she figures out it's my bed that she was in.

Then again, there was this one time where she woke up at like two in the morning— scared the shit out of me. It was so dark in my room that she didn't recognize it and climbed out the window. When she finally realized it was my house she was at, it was too late, she was already hugging from the gutter of my apartment building. Had to call the damn fire department to get her down. It was hilarious listening to her explanation.

I smirk at the memory, knowing that there is more to come.

"What are you smirking at?" She asks out of nowhere and I jump. When the hell did she come down?

"Oh, nothing, just reminiscing that's all," I tell her and my smile grows.

"You're thinking about it aren't you?" She growls. "Why can't you just leave it in the past?" She throws her arms in the air.

"Oh hush," I laugh. "It was funny as hell and you know it."

"Funny?" She huffs. "There is nothing funny about dangling from a building."

She has no clue how funny it actually is. Little does she know, I recorded the entire thing and have it locked away for when she gets married. It might be there for a hundred years— since I don't see her ever getting married, but I have it just in case.

Hell...I might even play it at my own wedding.

"Why are you still smiling?" She eyes me warily for a moment and then I saw it. Recognition. The little female Sherlock Holmes actually figured it out— two months later, but she still figured it out. "You," her voice is accusing. "You recorded it, didn't you?"

I can feel my grin getting bigger by the second.

"I don't know what you are talking about. I would never do such a thing. What kind of friend do you think I am?" I say as innocently as possible. The look on her face tells me she's not buying it.

"Where is it?" She questions as she begins her search, looking behind every photo— in every drawer. Hell, she even crawled on her hands and knees looking under everything and anything, and huffed when she came up short.

This is definitely another moment to remember. So what do I do? Yep, you guessed it, I pulled out my handy dandy phone and began recording her desperate attempts to find it.

I know. I know. I am such an amazing friend.

"I hope you know you will put back everything you tear out," I yell as she makes her way upstairs. She doesn't say anything and throws the finger over her shoulder as she disappears.

She's going to trash the place. That's what she's going to do and I'm going to have to spend the rest of my day off cleaning up her mess.

Eh, it's worth it. I smile snuggly to myself.

About an hour later, she storms down the stairs looking defeated and plops her no-so-happy-ass down on the couch beside me and glares.

"Any luck?" I ask, already knowing the answer. If looks could kill, I would be dead.