Wasted Love with You (Wasted Love 1)

“For the record,” I say, “I’m not giving you a five-star review for this ride.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that right now, lady.” He hisses, looking as if he’s damn near tears. “Get. Out.”

I oblige, not bothering to ask another question.

He speeds away before I can slam the door.

Shaking my head, I check my watch—completely grateful that I’m a full hour early.

I take my time walking down the pathway, noticing the lush plants that line both sides, the bright red and pink flowers that I missed the first night that I came here.

As I near the black iron gate that bears the letter “R” on its bars, my heart begins to race.

The doors slowly open, welcoming me without question.

I pull out my phone to schedule another Uber in advance before walking through them.

John will be there to pick you up in an hour and a half! The alert buzzes.

As I’m putting it away, it buzzes again.

John has canceled this ride. Try another driver?

I agree, and before I can take two steps forward, my phone buzzes yet again.

Elvin has canceled this ride. Try another driver?

What the… I continue walking toward the grand, grey-stoned estate and try to find a driver again. And again.

And again.

They all eagerly accept my offer, but upon seeing the address, they cancel without reason.

The hairs on the back of my neck are slowly standing one by one—begging me to catch the clues—and my driver’s panicked face from earlier suddenly comes into view.

“Please leave if this is where you have to be.”

My thoughts are now racing a mile a minute, all of them begging me to get the hell out of here.

I look around, noticing that there are no cars around. No staff.

No one will ever know.

Swallowing, I take one last look at the estate and still at the sight of Mister R standing on a lower-level balcony.

Sipping from a dark red mug, he’s wearing another dark grey suit, watching my every move.

Even from here, I can see that his eyes are locked on mine, that he’s silently beckoning me to keep moving toward the house.

Before I can brush off the group of Uber drivers as nothing more than people who may not want to drive out this far, my phone buzzes with another rejection.

Then a phone call.

Without taking my eyes off Mister R, I hold it up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Miss Jane! This is Terry from Uber!” a woman with a chirpy voice says. “I’ve noticed that you’ve had fifteen rejections within a short time frame, so I’m calling to let you know that you may want to consider changing the address for a chance at a pickup. Things like this trigger our support line from time to time, but I want you to know that it’s pretty common.”

“Is that really true?”

“No,” she says, her tone instantly shifts darker. “Change the address if you expect someone to come and pick you up. Change it now.”

She ends the call before I can utter another word, and I take a large step back.

Then another.

Mister R moves the red mug from his mouth and tilts his head to the side.

Looking beautiful and tempting as ever while the sun highlights every angle of his face, his lips curve into a smile.

Are you coming to see me? He mouths, and I shake my head.

His lips part as I continue to walk backward, and he continues watching me until I’m out of his sight, until we’re in the same position that we were on the night when we first “met.”

When I make it out of the drive, I run until I reach another subdivision—instantly requesting a ride using the address of the first house I see.

Avery will be there to pick you up in ten minutes!

I refresh my screen, waiting for the inevitable second alert.

It comes five minutes later.

Avery is almost there. Please be ready to get inside the vehicle!

I suck in a breath as my heart continues racing against my chest.

What the fuck is going on?

End of Episode 10

Episode 11

Autumn

Two hours later

“There’s no record of you ever requesting a ride to the estate in question,” the Uber representative says over the phone. “I’m afraid I don’t know what experiences you’re talking about, Miss Jane.”

“Look at my ride history,” I say, still on edge from earlier, still unable to sit without trembling. “All those drivers’ denials and such. It literally just happened.”

“Miss Jane, I don’t see anything.” She sounds exasperated. “I’ve refreshed your account three times in the past five minutes.”

“Is there a such thing as a ‘No-Go Zone’ for your drivers?” I ask.

“There are certain neighborhoods we’re unable to service, yes,” she says. “But I don’t see any of that in your account. I don’t see that you’ve ever requested a single ride with us at all, Miss.”

“What?”

“Whenever you want to try our service for the first time, you’ll get eight dollars off, on me!” She’s suddenly cheery for no reason. “Have a great day, Miss Jane, okay?”