Wrong Place Wrong Time Movie Novels & Stories

“White, elegant, classic; like the kind of woman your family prefers. Don’t tell me you didn’t see them?” Ethan exhaled sharply. “They arrived,” he said in a clipped tone. “But there’s a problem, Lawrence.” “Oh? Don’t tell me you’re already fighting?” Ethan’s voice went cold. “I didn’t marry the woman Grandfather arranged. There was a mix-up.” Silence. Then a low whistle. “You’re serious?” “Completely.” Lawrence burst into laughter. “You mean the man who reviews every document word by word signed a marriage certificate with the wrong woman?”

"The clasp was slipping. It’s in my bag." "Show me," he said. Sloane didn't move for three seconds. Then, with deliberate slowness, she unzipped the side pocket of her leather tote and pulled out the small, round gold timepiece. The leather band was dark with age, the gold bezel scratched near the twelve-o'clock marker. Declan took it from her hand, his fingers brushing hers for a fraction of a second. He turned the watch over, his thumb tracing the tiny inscription on the back of the casing. M.M. 1964.

“I won’t tell you exactly what time or where. But I will be in a coffee shop. And if fate agrees with us, you will be in that coffee shop too.” “There must be about a hundred coffee shops in Paris,” he protested. “Yes. A hundred chances to get it wrong. And only one chance to get it right,” she smiled at him. “If of all the wrong places you could be, you end up in the same place I am… then that’s Fate smiling down upon you. And maybe you’ll start believing.” With that, she gave him one last smile and turned away to leave.

But I wasn’t about to admit it. ___ The next few days had passed in a blur of awkward domestic routines. Breakfast again, lunch handled awkwardly because I didn’t know where anything was, and every small collision in the hall made my pulse skip. Adrian was always moving with purpose; I moved with chaos. And yet, our movements started to align accidentally. Passing in the hallway, our shoulders brushed. It was small, but enough to make me flinch, and I swear I saw a flicker in his eyes that wasn’t irritation.

"She lives in Building 7, Room 304. Go find her yourself." After learning this, I hurried toward Dorm Building 7. But it was a women's dorm, and I wasn't allowed inside. So, all I could do was wait outside. People passed in and out. Seeing me standing there alone, some looked back at me curiously. A few even recognized me and covered their mouths while laughing as they ran off. I didn't care. Right now, the only thing that mattered was finding Alice and having her explain what happened. I waited until the sun went down and darkness fell.

“And that says that today is the fourteenth of february.” “Fourteenth of February? Way prep?” No. It couldn't be. Way prep was the first in-school practice tournament of the semester and we had already done it. Yesterday was the fourteenth of March. “This can't be right.” “I know. It's complicated, like… like we've somehow gone back a month in time.” “What is this? The futuristic ages? There's no way we can die and come back a month… a month in time, that's crazy.” He rolled his eyes. “If you have a better explanation I'd like to hear it.”

I hope he rots in prison and I hope to never see his face ever again. He was nothing but a huge mistake. Matthew Bryant was my worst mistake, I wasted an entire year with the wrong guy. I loved the wrong guy, I gave him my entire heart thinking that he was the right person for me but he wasn't. He was a mistake and I can only hope that I will meet the right guy someday because I am so convinced that Matthew wasn't my soulmate. He wasn't my Mr. Right, he was the Mr. Wrong if that is even a thing. The end.

This time he is asking if he did anything wrong. Obviously, I am overthinking the situation. I quickly let him know that no he did nothing wrong I am just having a bad day. He asks if I want to come over. I tell him that I would love to but that I have to work tonight. He sends me a sad emoji face. I agree with him it is sad. Just thinking about Jayce’s hands and lips on my body is enough to make me wet. Then he asks me if this is weird. I had to think about it for a moment.

"It doesn't." We sat there. The guy at the counter finished his eggs and left. The woman with the laptop packed up and went. The teenager changed the music to something low and forgettable. Outside on Marsh Street the city kept doing what cities do at 1am, moving and humming and completely indifferent to the two people inside this diner who had just had the floors pulled out from under them. "What happens to your wedding tomorrow," he said. "I cancel it." "Is that simple." "No." He waited.

Just them, two men learning how to be soft, how to want, how to exist in a world that had never made room for this kind of peace. It was just past 3 p.m. when the buzzer rang. Luca barely registered it, he was half asleep again, curled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket over his lap, the last twenty minutes of their second movie droning in the background. Asher had disappeared into the kitchen to make something resembling hot chocolate, claiming real men drank it with cinnamon. The buzzer rang again. And again. By the third press, Luca peeled himself up with a groan. “Babe? Door.”