I sat on the couch, an ice cream carton sitting on my lap while my laptop sat open on the ottoman in front of me. My hand, holding a spoon, scooped another large bite, shoveling it into my mouth. I watched the blinking bar on the white document with my eyes squinted as if doing so would magically help me think of what to write next. It didn't.
Groaning, I stood and walked through the apartment to the kitchen where I put my ice cream back in the freezer. I swapped it with a glass of cheap wine from the CVS on the corner and walked back to the couch. My phone lay face down next to where I'd been sitting. Picking it up, I went to my music and picked a playlist that usually helped me write, but when I set my glass down on the stool we used as a coffee table and pulled my laptop onto my lap, my fingers hovered above the keyboard.
It had to have been five minutes later that I found myself scrolling through some random website before remembering what I had been trying to do. Write. Right.
I changed positions three times, scrolled through Pinterest for a minute, turned the tv on, turned it off, deleted a paragraph of my story, rewrote it, went to the bathroom, deleted some more, and evidently gave up. Groaning dramatically, I heard a door on the far side of the apartment open.
Knox, my roommate, walked out and to the kitchen, barely giving me a glance. "I'm assuming the writing is going well from the groaning every five minutes and..." he eyed the wine bottle on the counter, "the half-drunk wine I bought this morning." I placed a hand on my head.
"Oh, yeah it's going great." From behind the door of the fridge, I saw him smile. I shifted to my side. "What? Does my anguish bring you joy?" Shutting the door, I saw Knox with an orange juice bottle.
"I feel like I should answer 'no'..." he waved the bottle around, "but I'm trying to be more truthful. So, yes. Your anguish brings me much happiness."
"Very funny." Pouring himself a glass, Knox began walking back to his room. "Go back to your cooking videos, asshole!"
"Gladly!"
When I heard his door close, I let loose another groan and closed my laptop, wanting to slam it but not having the heart to. After, I downed the rest of my wine and set my glass in the sink. The clock on the microwave read 11:57. I wasn't necessarily tired, but I was bored out of my mind; so I decided to go to bed.
Knox and I shared a bathroom in our small, two-bedroom apartment on the far Northside of Chicago. Most of the bathroom is cluttered with my shit, but Knox only required a small corner and didn't complain. That's why I liked living with him. He was simple and wasn't needy.
I brushed my teeth and face, then took my hair down from its bun and ignored the frizziness. And already in my pajamas, I easily climbed into bed.
It was hard to fall asleep, and I even had to resort to my phone for a social media outlet. Eventually, I guess I fell asleep because next, I remember my five-thirty alarm going off and wanting to die at the prospect of a new day and workweek.
But forcing myself to wake up, I walked groggily to the bathroom where I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and tied my hair up into a ponytail. When I got back to my room, I went into my drawers and slid on light blue leggings, a matching sports bra (Nya bought me it last Christmas), and a white tank that I think I bought at Target. And once I put my shoes on and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, I took my keys and phone and headed out the door and into the apartment hallway.
It was dark and quiet, but I was used to this. In fact, this early, I preferred it like this.
The apartment complex's gym was empty when I got in there. Only one other person came in during my hour workout, but I had my headphones in and didn't pay them any attention.
Upon leaving, I bumped into Jaxon, the hot--and I'll just mention this briefly, SINGLE–guy from 41B. And when I say "bumped", I literally mean I wasn't watching where I was going, turned a corner too fast, and slammed face-first into this man. His chest muscles softened the blow though, so no complaints here.
"Oh shit sorry." He saw it was me and relaxed. "Oh, hey Audrey," he said, smiling--God this man has the most perfect smile. I didn't speak because, words? Yea, they're impossible to form around him.
"I... I -um- didn't... er... see you?" He kept smiling as if he experienced this every day. (This was likely).
"It's okay. It was my fault anyway." Maneuvering around me, he began walking off but not before saying, "See you later!" Oh God, I hope so.
"Okay! Bye Jax!" Oh shit. Fuck. "I- I meant Jax-on. Jaxon. Not Jax! 'Cause, that would be creepy!" Yeah, nice save Audrey. God, you're stupid.
Wanting to throw myself off the balcony, I made it back to the apartment. When I entered, the aroma of coffee and another sweet concoction hit me. There was music playing in the kitchen, and Knox was cooking breakfast. He was humming along, spatula in hand and a towel slung over his shoulder.
Seeing me come in, he asked, "How was the gym?" Groaning, I slid into my seat at the kitchen table. His back was to me now as he was flipping something on the stove. "That bad?"
"Well, the workout wasn't the bad part, it was what happened after." Of course, I wanted him to ask me what happened, so I waited for him to speak. "Don't you want to know?"
"Know what?" He asked over his shoulder.
"What happened after my workout?"
"Oh, right. Yeah."
Rolling my eyes, I said, "I ran into 41B guy."
"Oh, the one you obsess over every time you go to the gym?"
"Yeah."
"Well, how is that bad? You-"
"No. Like, I actually ran into him." Knox turned and looked at me, on the verge of laughing.
"So, you crashed into the guy you've been crushing on for the past year all sweaty and red?" He set a plate of eggs, bacon, and french toast (topped with some strawberry concoction and whipped cream) in front of me along with a cup of coffee, adding, "Bon appetit."
I mumbled thanks before continuing. "And that's not even the worst part. I stuttered! I literally can't talk around that man."
"Or any man," Knox mumbled into his coffee cup, leaning against the counter. I stopped eating my bacon mid-chew.
"I talk to you, asshole!"
"Only because your best friend moved in with her boyfriend and you would go insane without talking for an hour." I scoffed.
"I can to0 talk to guys, and I can go plenty of hours without talking, thank you."
"Mhm," Knox smirked. "When's the last time you've had a date?"
"I-" His smirk broadened. I wanted to hit him. "Okay, so it's been a while. So what?"
He sipped his coffee again. "So, you should ask 41B guy out." I began eating my food again, contemplating this. Then I said,
"He wouldn't say yes."
"Then I guess you'll just grow old and die alone."
"No, I'll be stuck with your annoying ass the rest of my life which is much, much worse."
Knox was still smiling. "I'm glad to fulfill that position in your life." I scarfed down the last bite of french toast.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm going to be late to work." Knox watched as I rinsed my plate off and went into the bathroom to shower.
〜〜〜〜〜
When I finished my shower (and makeup and hair) I walked with a towel wrapped around me back into my room where I dressed in casual jeans and a white and blue striped blouse. At this time, it was about 8:45.
I said my goodbyes to Knox who had the day off and made myself a travel cup of coffee so I could function. Finally, I was out the door at 9 and in my car at 9:05.
Traffic wasn't awful today and I parked in front of Tribune Publishing at 9:31 which was perfect because I was supposed to be at work at 9:45. I've been a features editor for the Chicago Tribune for about two years. Before that, I worked as a publisher and editor for a small neighborhood newspaper. And during college, I worked at Barnes and Noble and a few restaurants around the city.
Walking into the building, I was greeted by Lily, the front desk worker, before getting in the elevator and going up five stories to my office space. I found my cubicle and sat down, immediately beginning work.
About half an hour later, Quinn walked in, papers and folders under her arms. She knocked on the wall that separated the cluster of desks.
"Morning," she said, leaning against the divider.
"Morning." I continued typing on my computer.
"You want to go to lunch later?"
I stopped typing and leaned back in my chair, facing her. "Yeah, where?"
"Paula's place." It was a small, family-owned restaurant just down the street. We go there at least once a week on our lunch break.
"Great. Two good?"
Quinn straightened and nodded. "Mhm." She turned to Luis, the guy who sat across from me. "What do you say, Blondey? Wanna come?" Luis didn't even look up from his notes.
"No, thanks. I have to go." He stood, gathered some papers, and left. Quinn and I watched him walk out, brows raised.
"Damn, what stick's up his ass this morning?" I shrugged and drank my coffee.
"Maybe just in a Monday mood?"
"Nah, that kid's got some serious problems." Still shaking her head, Quinn began to leave.
"Where are you going?" I asked after her. She turned and walked backward.
"Gotta go interview this woman." She cupped her hands to her chest. "Huge fucking breasts! Those things are like-"
"Quinn?" It was a deep voice, annoyed and formal. It made Quinn stop in her tracks, turning around to face the Chief Editor, and our boss, Mr. Ellis. I pursed my lips and drank my coffee again to stop from laughing.
"Yes, sir?" Quinn asked, smiling.
His hands were folded behind his back "I am hoping you know the proper workplace language."
"Yes, sir."
"Then I advise you, Ms. Davis, to use it."
"Yes, sir." She stayed standing there, waiting to be dismissed.
He said, annoyed, "You can leave." Quinn nodded.
"Aye aye, sir." She saluted him with two fingers, moved around him, and left. Mr. Ellis blew out a breath before making his way to me. To say he intimidated me was an understatement--he terrified the hell out of me–but after a little while, you got accustomed to his brisk manner.
"Ms. Briar, need I remind you that we still need the article's for tomorrow's paper-" I handed him a folder before he finished.
"Here. There are also the stories for Wednesday's paper in there too, and I'm working on editing the sports column now. Also, José is working on writing a story and Daniel is in the field now." Mr. Ellis opened the folder silently, brows creased in slight shock, the only giveaway of emotions I could tell. It was like that man had a lifetime of Botox or something.
"Very well, Ms.Briar. Good job." He turned without another word and left. I blew out a realized breath and quickly turned back to my computer, continuing to work.