Immure (Harry Styles)

Chapter Six

*cнapтer ѕιх*

We were driving around for about an hour and it seems I have not found any such luck. I've tried four diners so far, considering the job was what I was familiar with, but three weren't the best set of luck. All three claimed they didn't need any more workers. The fourth one told me to set up my job application online and send it to them via email. Like, the hell? Why couldn't I just fill one out and hand it to them? Were they really that high tech? The thought of them having to go by Mr. Somerhalder for reference wasn't the best thought that came to mind. I mean, it wasn't like I quit, which wasn't that great either, but I was fired. And the sound of Mr. Somerhalder's tone while he did it didn't really give me much luck. I was screwed. I was actually debating on whether I should just apply for McDonalds. At this point, I just needed something. But then I thought otherwise before I could even go forth with the idea. Images of people complaining I got their order wrong from lack of comprehending them, while working in a hot room with grease, acne to form on my face from the oils of the room mixed with the musty smell wasn't something I was fond of. 

After moments of debating on whether I should keep going forward with the idea of searching for a job today, an idea came to me. Maybe I should try something new. I instructed Harry to turn into a small outlet. He spoke up as soon as he stopped the car.

"For the love of God, Ivery," he groaned. Harry ran his hands down his face. "Are you really that desperate?

"Yes, Harry. I am! I need to find something as soon as possible," I explained to him.

"You know I could just support yo-" I got out, slamming the car door before he could finish. I know it was rude of me, especially since he was offering to basically help me out even more, but I couldn't have that. Something wasn't right about it, and it seemed as if the longer I stayed the worst it'd get. So I needed to act fast. Even with the little amount of money I can make, I'll be out of there before it gets too out of hand. It seems he's already controlling me, and I hated it. It reminded me of how my father treated my mother; red flags everywhere. 

I made my way inside the small grocery store, looking around for any current employees. With no such luck, I huffed out a breath of air before turning back around. Just as I reached for the handle, a voice called out for me.

"Miss!" I turned around to see a boy, about a year or two older than me, smiling big from behind a cash register. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah, I was wondering if you needed any new workers," I half questioned him. He smiled even bigger.

"Thank God!" he exclaimed, "One for me, Madti!" he called out just as a girl with dark hair came from outside a room. 

"Oh, piss off Ansel. I'll be getting more than you can count soon," she smirked.

"Ansel Elgort, soon to be head assistant manager, thanks to you," he smiled reaching for my hand.

"Ivery Taylor," I shook hands with him. A small blush crept it's way to settle on my cheeks.

"If you can fill this out, I'm more than happy to announce you've got the job," he told me as he handed me a clipboard with paper attached to it and  a pen. I looked at him in shock. "What?"

"What?" I asked him the same thing. It couldn't be that easy.

"Well Miss Taylor," he said smiling, "we need new employees as you can see and," he handed me the pen, "you don't seem to be a murder of any sort or anything, so basically what I am saying is-"

"Goddamn it, Ansel! You take for-fucking-ever to get anything out!" the girl with the dark hair, whose name was announced as Madti, said, rubbing her temples.