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 saidJackson 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?"
As they finished their coffees, she leaned back, stretching her arms above her head. The movement caused her blouse to ride up, revealing a tantalizing strip of skin. His eyes followed the motion, and his mouth suddenly dried. "Well, that hit the spot," she said, oblivious to Jackson's wandering gaze. "Ready to head out?" He nodded, standing up perhaps a bit too quickly. "Lead the way." She smirked, noticing his eagerness. She slid out of the booth with feline grace, her hips swaying as she walked toward the exit. Jackson followed, his eyes fixed on the hypnotic movement of her backside. They stepped out of the cafe into the cloudy night. The air was thick with the promise of rain, and a cool breeze rustled through the trees lining the street. Sophia huddled closer to him, her warmth contrasting to the chilly breeze. "So," Jackson said, feigning nonchalance, "what shall we do now?" "Oh, I don't know. Got any ideas?" He could think of plenty of
The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more passionate. Sophia's hands tangled in Jackson's hair, tugging gently. He groaned into her mouth, his fingers digging into her hips. "You feel amazing," he murmured against her lips. His hands slid up her back, and he felt the warmth of her skin through the fabric. "Shut up and kiss me," she demanded, pulling him back in, her tongue exploring his mouth. His hands roamed lower, finding the hem of her top and slipping underneath. Her skin was smooth and warm, and he could feel the lace of her bra as his fingers traced the curve of her waist. She moaned into his mouth, her hips grinding against his, and he could feel his cock straining against his jeans. "Fuck, Sophia," he groaned, breaking the kiss to catch his breath. "You're driving me crazy." "Good," she whispered. "Because I'm already there." She grabbed his hand and guided it to the button of her jeans. He fumbled, his fingers clumsy with anticipatio
The sleek black car glided through the night, its headlights cutting through the darkness like a knife. Victor sat in the back, his face illuminated by the soft glow of his phone as he scrolled through messages. The driver, a stoic man with a face like carved granite, fixed his eyes on the road ahead. Victor glanced out the window, watching the city lights fade away as they headed towards the outskirts. The sky above was a thick blanket of clouds, promising rain but holding back as if waiting for the perfect dramatic moment to unleash its fury. The car wound through increasingly desolate streets, passing abandoned warehouses and overgrown lots. Finally, it pulled up to a nondescript building, its gray facade blending into the cloudy night sky. A large shipping container was parked outside, looking out of place in the empty lot. As the car came to a stop, Victor spotted Tony standing next to the container. He exited the car, the gravel crunching under his expensive shoes. "Tony, my
Jackson pulled into the pub's parking lot, his sleek car purring to a stop. He sat for a while, gathering his thoughts and taking a deep breath. It was one thing to run into Matthew unexpectedly, but facing the entire gang? That was a whole different ballgame. He stepped out of the car, straightening his jacket. As he approached the pub's entrance, he saw his reflection in the window. Still young, still handsome, still... impossible. He shook his head and pushed open the door. The familiar scent of beer and fried food hit him like a wave of nostalgia. His eyes scanned the room, quickly spotting the boisterous table in the corner. There they were – Matthew, Charles, and James – looking older but unmistakably the same knuckleheads he remembered. Matthew spotted him first, waving enthusiastically. "Jackson! Over here, man!" As Jackson approached, he felt a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling in his chest. "Hey, guys," he said, trying to sound casual. "Long time no see, huh?" Charl