Things Are Different Here

three

Violet + Ivy Print was founded by two sisters in 2014, named Violet and Ivy Greene, and was the fashion magazine found on every artsy 20- and 30-something's coffee table. It had been featured on dozens of BuzzFeed articles in its eight years of life, and had been gaining popularity amongst younger readers with the start of the thrift store resurgence. It was also the place I called work, and where you could typically find me from 9-5 somewhere in the building's walls.

Since I'd called in sick on Monday, I was dreading coming in and facing Melissa. If there was one thing she hated more than me, it was me when I took a Monday off.

Melissa Arthur had joined the print only two years ago, just a month after me. I'd been hired in as an intern to the interim in her position, and when she joined the team, I became her personal assistant, for lack of a better term. It was supposed to be a role with real chances for growth within the company, with a three year track to joining the styling team. So far, two years and three months in, I'd been promoted from assistant to assistant who handles Melissa's passed off jobs for her.

I was hiding in my cubicle, waiting as the clock neared my end of day, avoiding Melissa after I'd just sent in my very short notice. Technically, she'd known I was auditioning for the role, but she didn't know I'd be leaving in just a few short days.

"I can't believe you're going to Hollywood," one of my coworkers, Nina, whispered over her laptop. We shared a makeshift cubicle, which wasn't always ideal, but we'd maintained a work friendship for being crammed into a seven-by-seven space.

"I know," I breathed. I'd had this conversation at least a dozen times already, it was unbelievable to almost everyone.

"I'd actually pass out if I met a celebrity." Nina shook her head, a wistful glint in her eye. "You know who I'd want to do a movie with? Noah Centineo. I'd actually pass away."

"You're so predictable," I laughed.

"Okay, he's hot. He, like, took over Netflix."

"And Joel sounds like him and their laughs are similar." I teased. Her fiancé, Joel, worked in media for the print, they'd met two years ago and hit it off. They were both closer to thirty, but even with our age difference, they were two of my favorite people on the team.

Nina hummed in annoyance and waved me off with her hand. She knew no one else heard the similarity, but she ran with it.

"Stacy." My face paled when I heard Melissa say my name behind me. Her tone was unreadable, which was more horrifying than angry. Knowing I didn't have much longer to put up with her was the only thing that kept my heart beating—albeit rapidly—as I turned around to face the redhead.

Melissa was one of the hottest women New York City had to offer. Had we met on a night out instead of the four walls of Violet + Ivy, and had she not been a raging bitch since the moment she opened her mouth, I would have invited her to my little corner of Erin's apartment for a night.

But that wasn't the case, and the red devil was watching me. I wondered if she could smell my fear, the nervous sweat that pricked my armpits, or if she could guess my blood pressure.

"Melissa," I tried my best to put on my best innocent face. "I wanted to tell you sooner, I really did."

"Save it." She waved her index finger at me. The other was resting on her hip, like she was casually having a conversation with a friend. One thing I'd never witnessed from her. "I'm sure you were busy planning the trip."

I didn't answer her, and she gestured toward her office.

I gave Nina a wide-eyed look, and she shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'good luck'. I got up from my desk and followed my boss. When I got into her office, she had me close the door and sit in one of the chairs before her.