Kyra Brown is an all-rounder; overly religious, beautiful, calm and smart.
After graduating from a college located in her hometown in Ohio, Canada she relocates to pursue her fashion designing career in New York where she unfortunately has to stay...
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ꨄ︎K Y R Aꨄ︎
“Day two and you’ll fall deeply in love with this place!” Paris squealed as she ushered me into the cafeteria flooded with hungry employees.
Ms. Ivonne had introduced me to my team composed of several creative minds that I couldn't keep in check of except the two ladies from the neighbouring desks which I was sandwiched into.
Paris, a twenty-four year old, high-pitched voiced, curly red headed bubbly individual and Clara, a twenty six year old Hispanic beauty, graced with long straight black hair, she was really cool and had aided me with several tips while I worked on an assignment Mrs. Ivonne gave me.
“Hey, Gary,” Paris smiled, badly winking at the middle aged blonde chef in charge of the kitchen.
“Hey,” Gary greeted back with a really deep voice that I think got stuck in my head.
“Please we don't have time for this now,” Clara groaned, rolling her eyes behind the line.
I noticed how Gary served her a large portion, slowly adding each component of her lunch tray to keep a conversation going on with her, everyone seemed to have gotten used to the system. The moment they concluded, he bid her goodbye and went back to the kitchen while the previous cook replaced him. Interesting.
“If you're wondering what just happened, the guy's into her,” Clara explained as we found a nearby table and started eating.
“Huh?” I questioned, pouring out water from the bottle of water into the styrofoam cup I asked the cook to give me.
“Paris is a player,” Clara hinted.
“No, I’m not—”
“You flirt with everyone,”
Paris clicked her tongue, “That’s different from being a player,”
“You end up giving them false hope,”
“Pretty girl problems,” I added and a broad grin painted her face immediately.
“You see, Kyra gets it! Besides, I tend to grab all their attention except —”
“RK,”
Paris sighed, resting her chin on her palm,“Yes, RK,”
“Excuse me, who?” I pointlessly questioned.
Paris quickly brightened up, “You seriously don't know who RK is?”
I gave a slow nod of affirmation.
“No, Clara don't ruin it,” Paris squeaked, using her index finger to shush Clara’s partly opened lips. Clara concurrently rolled her eyes and bit her finger to continue eating while I gave her my attention.
“He is the most handsome, beautiful, gracious, kind, lovely, splendid, amazing. He is the man of my dreams and knight of my nightmares, he is —”
“The CEO,” Clara bluntly added, cutting Paris off from continuing with her nerve racking phoney French accent.
