Yep, I'm the Fake Wife

Chapter 1:Coffee

~~Chapter 1: Coffee~~

Don’t fall, Don’t fall, Don’t fall….

I repeat over and over again in my head until I was sure I would never forget it. I knew well enough when I put these dam heels on that if I dare fell then it was game over to whatever future I might have. No one was going to hire a lady who trips over something as girly and preppy as heels. This interview is going to either destroy me or change my life in the best way forever that I was sure of. Whether I decide to stumble over my feet or not will determine which one.

Let’s see, the receptionist with the better outfit and confidence level said down the hall and to the left, no it was take a right and then at the next corner turn left.

          I tried my best to not have my face scrunch up and turn all red like it always does whenever I am really angry, sad, happy, nervous, anxious, and a lot of other things too as I tried to navigate myself around this large and rather maze like building.

          I needed to hurry up because I knew that any second now some tall blonde girl would probably walk past me with a funny look of disapproval on her face. When that moment came I was more than certain I would be doomed because I knew better than anyone else whenever a tall, hot, and blonde girl gave me a funny look it was code for, ‘Hey, you’re face looks like a tomato.’

          I began walking at a pace way too fast for the two inch heels I had been forced to wear were capable of. Well, not forced, but I read online that this was the way woman were supposed to dress to important job interviews where the wanted to ‘impress the best’. Which included super tall and pointy black heels, a tight black pencil skirt that I found myself constantly pulling down to mid-thigh, and a bright white button up shirt that I had spent hours ironing and washing all the stains out that it had developed over the years stuffed into the back of my closet. I also put my long hazel hair up into a ‘formal bun’ as the magazine technically called it.

          Ok, calm down and whatever you do, don’t panic! Let’s see, I took a left at the last turn and….

          I was stopped short as I turned a random corner and smashed into a blunt object that almost sent me flying to the floor of doom; luckily some God was on my side that day and kept my standing. Before I could process what was happening in my mind coffee came pouring all up and down my white shirt that I had ironed and washed for nothing. I gasped as I looked down at my brown stained button up shirt. I could already feel what smelled and looked to be coffee seeping through my shirt and burning my sensitive skin.

          I didn’t have to wait for some blonde bimbo to look at me funny this time; I knew my face looked like a ripe cherry by now.

          My gaze drifted up to the delinquent in front of me and just before I let out all of my rage that I was fighting to keep inside me, it suddenly melted away as I felt warmth overtake my body.

          A man stood in front of me with a sour look on his face, but I didn’t mind the least at the time. He was so handsome the he could’ve been holding his hand up to strike me right across the face and I still wouldn’t have taken my gaze off of him. His deep chestnut eyes met mine in an instant and my heart began beating at a million miles per hour. I could’ve stayed there staring all day no matter how enraged this man in front of me looked, but apparently he had other plans. It wasn’t until I noticed him looking down-not at me- but at his own shirt that I realized only a little bit of his coffee had spilled on me, but he definitely got the most.

          His right sleeve was drenched almost up to the elbow and I could see he was still holding the mostly empty Starbucks coffee in that hand also. His red formal tie was soaked along with his white shirt and black jacket as well. Oops, now I realized he wasn’t only mad because I caused him to spill his coffee, but all other him no less.