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"FUCK."
"fuck."
"ALLISON."
I pushed myself up with one arm on the bed, squinting through my eyes, trying to see through the layers of whipped cream stacked on my eyelids and face.
what the hell?
Sighing, I unconsciously brought my hand to my face, before just realizing that it was just making the situation worse.
Cringing as I tried to wipe off all soft, probably expired goopy stuff off my face, rolling my eyes and clenching my jaw from wanting to murder my twenty year old friend with the mental stability of a three year old.
"fuck."
If I wasn't blind, I'm pretty sure the clock on my bedside table read five minutes to nine, giving me roughly thirty minutes to prepare, get out of the apartment, and somehow get to a destination that was ten minutes away by train.
"ALLISON I'M GOING TO BE FUCKING LATE FOR THE FUCKING INTERVIEW"
silence.
"HEY AT LEAST I WOKE YOU UP THOUGH."
Forget restraining myself, I was going to march through Allison with a knife.
The door creaking open, my best friend poked her head in, the messy bun on top of her head flopping to one side as she smiled sheepishly.
"uh, don't kill me, I love you, I made you breakfast? and here are your clothes"
She threw the bundle of clothing at me and I caught it just before it hit my face, making sure to send her an impassive glare.
Begrudgingly, I flip open the covers, grab the clothes and stumble into the bathroom. Groaning at my reflection, I open the shower and yell at the bathroom door.
"HIT THE FIRE ALARM IF I DON'T COME OUT OF THE SHOWER IN FIVE MINUTES"
"GOT YOUR BACK BITCH"
don't actually hit it though.
Sighing in content as the hot water cascaded down my back, I scrubbed myself down, hoping that I didn't take more than five minutes because Allison tends to take my sarcasm too seriously.
I didn't even register what I was wearing, putting on my clothes in record time. I winced as I finally looked at my appearance in the mirror.
My wet stringy hair met the middle of my back, brown eyes rimmed red from not getting enough sleep. In conclusion, I looked like a goddamn ripoff Halloween ghost that just got drenched in sour milk.
that was weirdly intricate.
Lips beginning to part at the mirror as my eyes wandered down over my attire, I covered my mouth in horror as I took in what I'm seeing.
I try my best to ignore the sight in front of me, saving the worst problems to last.
I blow my hair dry, annoyed when the tips are still a bit wet and stubbornly won't dry.
the one fucking day.
"I don't have time for this."
I murmur and reach up to my hair, parting it in the middle, sweeping the back of my hair up and twisting it so that it resembles something of a bun, using a clip to secure it in place. I then used my hands to try and flatten the baby hairs that seemed to like to stick out all over the place.
Groaning, I looked back at myself and shook my head, not knowing if this was amusing or simply frustrating.
Did Allison seriously give me this mini skirt barely covering my ass, with the tightest possible crop top that was practically invisible and lace undergarments?
Storming outside, I found Allison leaning on the kitchen counter, raising her eyebrows and whistling as I stormed past.
"Ali, i am not going to a fucking stripper interview, what the fu-"
Sighing, Allison gestured to the long trench coat and leggings beside the brown bag where I assumed her breakfast was.
I was about to say that the trench coat was going to make me look more like a stripper, but I assumed that was the best she would give me, and if I tried to argue, I'd probably end up late.
Huffing through my nose, I scooped up the coat and leggings, hopping on one foot as I tried to stick my feet in the separate holes, trying not to get mixed up.
"Shoo shoo bitch, you're giving me 60% of your salary"
Rolling my eyes, I hastily grabbed the yellow folder lying on the counter, which I thank god I put there yesterday. Since when was this folder so heavy? I grunt, not bothered to go through the individual pages to take stuff out.
I grabbed the paper bag and blew a heart towards Allison before leaving out the front door.
shit.
I had ten minutes left.
***
Panting heavily, I run through the doorway of the very fancy elevator rotating door, I tried to regain my breathing back to normal.
Walking up to the reception, I fumbled with my folder before speaking.
"Sorry, um, excuse me, where are the interviews held?"
Trying not to let slip of a grimace show on my face, the woman behind the desk bobbed her head up, chewing gum whilst her fake breasts practically spilled out of the tiny corset she was wearing. Looking up and down at me with a snarl and a pitied glance, she didn't even bother talking, pointing at the elevator next to her and signaled to go to the top floor.
I peeked at the name tag pinned on the woman's chest - right where her cleavage was, and shook my head.
Well, Kate was a bitch.
Waiting for the elevator to go to the top floor, as I entered the steel block, I pressed the highest number possible, which coincidentally was 22.
I nervously bit my lip, feeling the lift coming to a shudder and halt in the middle and opening the doors. Aware that this wasn't my floor, I kept my gaze down at my shoes, surprised when no one seemed to walk in. I lifted my head to go and pressed the close on the elevator, when the doors automatically started closing.
I caught a glimpse of a pair of light gray with a speck of green eyes, causing my movements to halt, when the doors slid closed. I blinked, not knowing if I imagined that or if I actually saw that; because hell those were the prettiest eyes i've ever seen.
Snapping out of my daydream, the red numbers on top of the elevator reached 22, and a robotic man's voice ushered me to get out.
Stepping out, I was rewarded with men in clad black and white suits. Cue the sarcasm. The glass panel in front of me meant that everyone in that office could see me walk out of the elevator. Increasingly uncomfortable with the stares and primal gazes fixated upon me, I quickly made it to the far end of the corridor where the big sign 'INTERVIEWS' was taped.
Knocking on the door and stepping back, I waited for the door to open.
"Come in"
Raising my eyebrows, I pushed open the door handle just as another woman stood behind, clearly disheveled and still adjusting her skirt that could be clearly mistaken as her underwear.
The woman frowned at me top to bottom, said nothing, then left the room.
Jesus Christ, that's the second one today.
In front of me was a wooden polished desk and an eccentric razor sharp blue eyed man with the top button of his shirt undone, legs perched onto the desk with a smirk on his face.
"Welcome, I take that you are here for the interviews"
"Yes Sir"
"It's Norman for you, darling"
As if I didn't want to gag at his appearance, this was enough for me to actually want to punch him or vomit. I cued the toe reflexed to stop myself from ruining his absolutely lovely desk piled with random files matched with highlighters and pens strewn about.
Forcing a small smile onto my face, I hoped that it didn't seem like a wince in his direction.
"So, um these are my files and job qualifications for the law department in this industry, i've had some exp-"
"You're hired"
I blinked.
"S-Sorry what?"
"Do I need to say more, darling? You're hired"
"O-Oh. Oh wow. Um well thank you. When do I start?"
Rolling his eyes, he stood up, brushing the soft white flecks on his suit pants off, and walked over to the back of my chair.
As he bends down, I opened my mouth in disgust as his breath reaches my ear, and whispers:
"We can start now, darling"
He starts kissing down the nape of my neck, and I openly shudder as I'm frozen on the seat in shock.
He takes the shudder from me as pleasure, and continues his way down. Before he reached the line of my cleavage, I finally seemed to recover from shock; and before my mind had caught up, my hand had already been whipped across Norman's face and a red imprint was already forming.
fuck, that hurt like shit
Holding my hand in pain, I stood up abruptly, the files and folder originally on my lap slid down and onto the floor. My eyes still trained ahead of myself, I subconsciously moved my hand to my neck, where he had just assaulted me. I'm at loss for words at what had just happened - shaking with anger and complete disbelief.
Norman, clutching the desk as he stood up still holding his face, his expression etched with anger and outrage.
"You-You slut"
That was all before I raised my hand again and slapped the other side of his face.
He crumpled down yet again with a shrill cry, one side of his face completely swollen and blotchy, with anger or because of my slap, I didn't want nor need to know.
Stepping forward in my heels, I looked down at the withering figure on the floor, bending down, and said straight into his eyes:
"Never call a woman a slut if you expect her to act like one"
I wanted to dig my heels into his face - repeatedly. But instead, I walk out of the door, fuming with fury, the sudden movement causing my coat to fly open, I couldn't really care less anymore. This sends the men in the offices to either gawk at me, or simply continue to ogle unashamedly with wide mouths open.
"You look at me one more time and i'll make sure you have nothing you can use to look again"
Most men turned their backs, but a group continued to stare, whilst one stupid man whistled and shouted at me:
"Feisty, I like that. Are you like that in bed too?"
motherfucker.
Whipping my head around, I was really getting sick of egoistic men.
"What the fuck did you just say?"
Immediately shrinking under my harsh gaze, he shook his head furiously and said nothing.
"That's what I thought"
I couldn't stand being a second more in this building surrounded by testosterone and horny men who clearly couldn't understand and respect women, and so I made my way into the elevator and watched the numbers go down.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I closed my eyes and sighed as I was finally met with the cool air in New York. Taking out my phone from one of the pockets of the trench coat, I called Allison for it to be met with voicemail, so I left her one saying that I'd be out the entire day.
My mind had finally seemed to catch up with the things that just happened - like a huge wave crashing down on me, I gasped as I replayed the entire incident in my mind again.
"Oh fuck i did not just slap the CEO of Nemero Industries."
"fuck. I did."
Murmuring to myself, I exhaled shakily as I made my way downtown where my favorite bookstore was. Maybe it'd take my mind off that for a while.
At least I hoped it would.
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(a/n:) i spent like two hours writing this how do authors write 2000 smth words a chapter and 60 chapters per book and still make it interesting like ewnifnweio hi i bow down to u <3
how is this only 2000 words i swear i wrote more than 10,000
feel free to leave random comments and please follow if you like it so far :)
with love,
-rev <33