Glitter Glitches

Part 2 - Mr. Blue Eyes

It took a while for the dust to settle. A grieving process, much like an inflammatory response, needed to run its course. I must admit that it took longer than necessary but, in a nutshell, here's the gist of it.

Denial. Me, apparently before prom night. I was in this stage for three years while my boyfriend hooked up with my friends behind my back. Pff, some friends. #FFF

Anger. Me, for the rest of that night and over the weekend that followed.

Bargaining. Me, Monday morning at school after seeing Gabriele again. I begged, but he and most of my so-called friends avoided me like the plague. Fuckers.

After their rejection, I relapsed back into stage two—Anger. There I remained till graduation. I was bitter and exiled from the social hierarchy.

Depression. This came after high school, during my time at university. My progress in this stage would falter after each failed relationship during my raging student years. Somehow, I would find the most insignificant flaw and blow it out of proportion until a correlation that resembled Gabriel was established. After that pointless process my paranoia kicked in and the -what if's- started haunting me. So, I would dump the poor smug before you could say 'Bitches be loco'. The simple romantic notion of a kiss, once so sweet, was now just sour in my mind.

Acceptance. This finally came the day I realized there was an actual word in the dictionary for someone like me—bachelorette. Turns out it happened so often that women ended up alone they made it official and that seemed sufficient to me.

I graduated Cum Laude with a degree in Journalism, so naturally, I became a personal assistant. I was the PA to the chief editor of Vogue magazine.

Why would she hire a mess like me? Simply because I didn't have the need to upstage her, not anymore, and she knew that.

My glitter turned to glitch.

This may seem ridiculous. It was one episode of heartache so many years ago. I should just get over it, right? I know, and I am over it. What I am now is an accumulation of bad choices made post-prom, but still set in motion because of what happened at prom.

It started with that moment of heartache that led to some emotional scarring. So, I clammed up and that led to more cold shoulders meaning more emotional scarring and that led to fully clamming shut. It was just one vicious cycle. So, no, not just a bad breakup, it was a bad mix of bad choices and years of just general badness.

Now, don't cry me a river just yet, my college years weren't all bad. I had my misfit of crazy-ass friends, and they made a job out of it to pull me to every frat party, pep rally, and student riot they deemed necessary to complete the full college experience. I drowned my insecurities in alcohol, played beer pong, raged at foam parties, and even experimented with some illegal substances that I don't care to mention.

Some moments were a blur, but there were no regrets after high school. I was young, fabulously single, and recklessly rebellious. Those were fond memories, and they made for good stories. But I am glad I eventually grew up and resigned my torch and pitchfork on all things Gabriel.

The grief ran its course down the crooked little road that led me to this cramped little desk, facing away from the window, stuffed away in the corner at a job rotting my brain and wasting my creativity.

I didn't fit in, but I was determined to remain a triangle in a society that preferred squares. You couldn't build a false reality that easily with a triangle.

***

I sighed deeply before I pulled the stack of paperwork closer. I just needed to start, and momentum would do the rest.

Miss Priss shook her pom-poms for encouragement.

The sun had set hours ago, but I was finally finished with the work. I blinked a few times, my eyes burned from staring at the computer screen too long. I looked around the office. It was empty. How did I turn into this girl? The workaholic that hated her job yet devoted all her spare time to it.

This is a steppingstone. You need the experience on your CV. Miss Priss offered.

With my focus no longer on the work there was room for the sudden realization that I was alone in a dark building to crawl up my spine. I shivered, grabbed my handbag, and hastily made my way to the elevators. I had that creepy sensation that something was literally right behind me. Yes, I was power-walking towards the elevator refusing to turn around. It was surviving Slenderman 101—don't look!

I pressed the elevator button multiple times because that makes it go faster, right? The doors finally opened, and I blindly stormed in, smack into a warm body.

He caught me and steadied me. "Whoa, are you okay?"

"Yes, uh... sorry," I mumbled, smoothing out my shirt that rode up as he caught me.

"Yeah, no problem," he said, nervously scratching the back of his neck when I looked up at him.

He pointed at the door, indicating that I was in his way. In the process of trying to get out of his way, we ended up in one of those awkward you-go-that-way-I-go-this-way tangos. I was absolutely mortified but he just gave me a pointed look. "I'll go this way," he said pointing to my left.

"And I'll go that way," I concluded the new get out of the way plan.

As I stepped aside, he suddenly lunged forward. "No, ahh shit," he yelled as the doors closed and the elevator went down again, with both of us still in it.

He sighed, shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at the door in annoyance. "Because I just love riding the elevator for fun," he mumbled to himself.

I shied away into the corner just staring at him. He didn't strike me as anything special besides his size. He was extremely tall and...large. It made me even more nervous. I was stuck in a confined space with a large stranger. I focused on controlling my breathing and to keep a watchful eye on him.

He was dressed in vans, ripped jeans, and a baggy grey hoodie. His dark hair looked disheveled, and he wore black-rimmed glasses. I couldn't get a clear look at him because he kept his face turned away from me.

We both stood awkwardly tucked into opposite corners doing a good job of avoiding eye contact.

The doors opened once we stopped on the ground floor. I rushed out, tripping over my own feet but managed to stay upright with a few evasive hops. I heard him chuckle at my clumsiness and snapped my head back to glare at him.

He stood with his hands shoved in his jeans pocket, feet shoulder-width apart, staring at me with raised eyebrows. He had a nice smile. Really nice.

Wait, what? Don't think that. He was laughing at you! That smile is mocking you. Miss Priss waved her hands frantically at me.

I took one last glance at this stranger before the elevator doors closed completely.

Blue. His eyes were a mesmerizing glittery blue.