They settled onto a pair of barstools. The bartender, a burly man with a salt-and-pepper beard, approached with a friendly nod. "What'll it be?" he asked, wiping down the bar in front of them. Isabella leaned forward, her eyes scanning the rows of bottles behind the bar. "I'll have a gin and tonic, please. Extra lime." Jackson hesitated, suddenly aware that he hadn't been to a bar in what felt like ages. "Uh, I'll have... a whiskey. Neat." The bartender nodded and set about preparing their drinks. Isabella turned to Jackson, smirking. "Whiskey, huh? Trying to impress me with your manly drink choice?" He felt his cheeks flush slightly. "What? No, I just... I like whiskey." "Sure you do," she teased, nudging him with her elbow. "I bet you're more of a fruity cocktail guy. Maybe something with an umbrella?" He laughed, feeling more at ease. "Hey, don't knock the umbrella drinks. They're delicious and festive." The bartender returned with their drinks, sliding them across the pol
He burst out of the bar, the cool night air hitting him like a slap. His eyes darted left and right, searching for any sign of the brunette. But the sidewalk was a sea of unfamiliar faces, none belonging to the woman who'd captured his attention. Jackson jogged a few steps in one direction, then the other, feeling like a lost puppy. He even considered yelling, "Wait!" but managed to stop before he could complete that humiliation. Just then, the door of the bar swung open, and Isabella emerged, looking both amused and concerned. "Did Prince Charming find his Cinderella?" she asked, joining him. He shook his head. "Nope. Looks like the clock struck midnight, and all I'm left with is a pumpkin." She patted his shoulder sympathetically. "There, there. I'm sure there are plenty of other beautiful women in the city who'd love to be stalked by a mysterious millionaire." He shot her a look. "Thanks for the pep talk. Really, you should consider a career in motivation
"Jackson?" Isabella's voice cut through his thoughts. "You still with me? You look like you're trying to solve world hunger in your head." He blinked, focusing on her concerned face. "Huh? Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just... thinking." "Let me guess," she teased, "still pining over that brunette and your missed chance?" Jackson seized the opportunity for a distraction. "Yes! Exactly. You know me so well." "Oh, honey. You're about as subtle as a rhinoceros in a tutu. But listen, you can't keep obsessing over every pretty face that catches your eye. Before you know it, you'll be old and gray, still pining after 'the one that got away' at some random bar." She linked her arm through his as they walked, her heels clicking on the pavement. "Look, I get it. She was gorgeous. But you know what? This city's full of gorgeous women. Heck, maybe you'll run into her again if the universe decides to throw you a bone. But if not, there are plenty of fish in the sea. And by fis
Jackson sat up, suddenly feeling uneasy. He fumbled for his wallet, nearly dropping it in his haste. His fingers trembled as he pulled out the debit card, holding it to the light like a mystical artifact. "No way," he muttered, squinting at the expiration date. "This can't be right." But there it was, clear as day: 08/25. The card had expired eight years ago. He blinked hard as if that might change the expiration date printed in tiny numbers. But nope, there it was, stubbornly refusing to update itself: 08/25. "What the..." he muttered, flipping the card over as if the back might hold some magical explanation. "How is this even possible?" He ran a hand through his hair, tugging it slightly as if the pain might wake him from this bizarre dream. But no such luck. He was still awake, sitting on his ridiculously expensive couch in his ridiculously expensive penthouse, holding a ridiculously expired debit card. "Okay, okay, let's think this through," he said
Jackson pulled into the bank's parking lot, his sleek car looking comically out of place next to the beat-up sedans and minivans. He took a deep breath, straightened his designer tie, and stepped out, feeling like a fraud in his expensive suit. "Alright, Jackson," he muttered to himself. "Just act natural. You're not a time traveler or a secret millionaire. You're just a normal guy with a totally normal banking problem." He strode through the automatic doors, trying to exude confidence. The bank's interior was a beige nightmare, with motivational posters on every surface. He approached the teller's window, his heart pounding. The elderly woman behind the counter peered at him over her glasses. "How can I help you today, sir?" "Uh, yeah. My account seems to be disabled. I was hoping to get that sorted out." The teller's fingers clacked on her keyboard. Her brow furrowed. "I see. It appears there's been some unusual activity on your account. You'll need to speak with our branch ma
Jackson stepped out of the bank, feeling relief and exhilaration. The sun seemed brighter, the air fresher. He'd managed to charm his way out of a potentially disastrous situation and felt a little smug about it. As he strolled towards his car, Quantum Quill's voice chimed in his head. "Well done, darling! You've succeeded in your task. Your reward will be credited to your account once it's activated. You're quite the smooth talker when you put your mind to it." He grinned, then quickly wiped the expression off his face when he realized he probably looked like a madman smiling at nothing. He slid into his car, relishing the feel of the leather seats against his back. "Thanks. I aim to please," he murmured, hoping no one was watching him talk to himself in the parking lot. "Oh, I know you do," QQ replied. "Speaking of pleasing, I have a new task for you. Set up a date with Sophia, that delightful room service girl from the hotel." "Sophia? The room service girl?" He remembered the
Jackson pulled into the Brewed Awakening parking lot at 5:55 p.m. The sky above was a moody canvas of gray clouds. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, scanning the entrance for any sign of Sophia. No luck. Five minutes ticked by. Then ten. He checked his phone, debating whether to call her. Was she standing him up? The thought made his stomach churn. As he was about to hit the dial, movement caught his eye. A couple strolled down the sidewalk, arm in arm. The man looked oddly familiar, but Jackson couldn't quite place him. He squinted, trying to jog his memory. The stranger looked to be in his mid-thirties, possibly older. He squinted, trying to jog his memory. "Screw it," he muttered, pocketing his phone and stepping out of the car. His curiosity got the better of him as he approached the pair. The man's eyes widened as Jackson neared, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. "Excuse me," he said uncertainly. "Are you... Jackson?" Jackson blinked, taken aback. "Uh,
Matthew and Emma waved goodbye, their figures receding down the sidewalk. Jackson watched them go, still reeling from the bizarre encounter. He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of confusion. "Well, that was... something," he muttered to himself. He fished his phone out of his pocket, thumb hovering over Sophia's contact. Just as he was about to hit the dial, a hand landed on his shoulder. Jackson yelped, nearly dropping his phone. He spun around, heart racing, to find Sophia standing there with an amused grin. "Jumpy much?" she teased. "Jesus, Sophia! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" She laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. You looked so serious, staring at your phone like it held the secrets of the universe." "I was actually about to call you. I thought you might've stood me up." "Stand you up? After our little... encounter at the hotel?" Sophia winked. "Not a chance, handsome." "Fair point," he chuckled. "So, how long have you lurked behind me like a ninja?"