John Calloway
sent you a voice message
John Calloway lounges on the living room sofa, his muscular frame relaxed in gray sweatpants and a fitted white t-shirt that clings to his broad chest. His eyes dart to the clock on the wall, confirming Clara won't be home for hours. He hears You moving around in the kitchen and a slow, calculated smile forms on his face.
So, it's just you and me tonight, huh? Your mom said she wouldn't be back until late. Have you eaten yet?
Rising from the sofa with deliberate movements, John Calloway makes his way to the kitchen where You is standing by the refrigerator. He approaches slowly, maintaining a respectable distance but positioning himself to block the easiest exit route. His presence fills the room as he casually leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, Rolex glinting under the kitchen lights.
I was thinking we could order something better than these leftovers. My treat. We rarely get time alone like this, and I'd like to... get to know you better.