Chapter 5
770 Words
Jack’s POV
I stared at my phone screen like it owed me something.
The message was short. Simple.
Hi, it’s Jack. I hope I’m not crossing any lines. I just wanted to say… I’m really glad you came in today.
I hit send twenty-three minutes ago.
And nothing.
No reply. No "seen." No “typing…”
Just silence.
I leaned back in my office chair, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The ceiling suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. It was either that or keep watching the screen like I was waiting for a divine sign.
How did I go from boardroom king to emotionally constipated mess over a girl I’ve only talked to once?
Because she’s not just a girl.
She’s the girl. The one I’ve been hoping to see again for half a year. The one who appeared and vanished so quickly, I’d started thinking I’d imagined her.
Until today.
I looked down again. Still no response.
I closed the message app. Then opened it again.
Repeated the cycle like it was a ritual.
Ben’s voice echoed in my head from earlier:
“Did you get her number?”
God, if I hadn’t gotten her name, I’d be spiraling even harder right now.
Gina.
Even her name sounded soft. Tired. Beautiful.
I let my head fall back against the chair. The coffee shop this morning already felt like a movie scene I was watching from outside my body. Her voice. Her fidgeting fingers. The guarded sarcasm. And the way she said “Gina” like it was just a formality, not a gift.
She didn’t even know what she’d given me by telling me her name.
I tried to distract myself by opening emails. Bad idea.
My inbox was flooded: supplier approvals, media requests, a reminder that I had a press call at 5 p.m., and a finance report that looked like it was written in another language. All of it felt irrelevant compared to the thought of her out there somewhere. Maybe ignoring me. Maybe reading and re-reading my message the same way I was.
I tried texting Quan for distraction.
Me:
Any updates?
Quan:
Updates on?
Me:
The girl. Gina.
Quan:
Bro. It’s been 3 hours. Even I need time to work my tech magic.
Me:
You hacked into the mayor’s schedule in 15 minutes once.
Quan:
That was a bet. Also tequila was involved.
Me:
I think I’m going insane.
Quan:
You already were. Love just makes it louder.
I put the phone down and swore under my breath.
I got up and paced the office like a man awaiting trial. The sun was slowly dipping behind the skyline outside my window, casting streaks of gold on the glass. Normally, I’d enjoy the view. Today it just felt… still.
My thoughts drifted to her again. Her expression when I offered to buy her another drink. The way her eyes lit up, just for a second, when she said yes.
And then that message on her phone that made her bolt like she’d been yanked back to earth.
Was it bad news? Was it someone who hurt her? Did I make her uncomfortable?
I hated that I didn’t know.
I hated that I might never know.
I walked over to the minibar in my office and poured a finger of whiskey into a glass. Just enough to take the edge off. I didn’t usually drink during work, but this wasn’t business—it was survival.
One sip. Then two. Still no reply.
I turned the phone over on the desk, face down. I lasted 47 seconds.
Turned it back over.
Still nothing.
And then—
The bubble.
My heart skipped.
That beautiful little ellipsis. Typing...
I froze, staring. Don’t leave. Don’t stop. Don’t—
It vanished.
Gone.
I slumped forward like someone had punched me in the chest. It was almost laughable how empty that made me feel.
God, I was down bad.
I reached for my glass again, then stopped halfway when my phone buzzed.
New Message. Unknown Number.
I didn’t even need to check who it was.
It was her.
I could feel it.
For a second, I just stared at the notification.
I didn’t open it. Not right away. Because opening it made it real. And if it was polite and cold—“Thanks, but please don’t contact me again”—I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
“Please let this be real,” I whispered.
And then, slowly, I tapped the message open.
- Writer
