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After showering at the gym, I dress in my new designer white blouse for the very first time. It took me forever to save up for it. In fact, I have several bank accounts I coordinate with my paycheck, and finally, my ‘special’ account had enough money to purchase this gorgeous blouse. It taunted me for weeks in that boutique window. I am so in love with it that I spend minutes staring at the mirror, eyeing myself from every angle. To complete the outfit, I’m wearing my vintage gray pleated skirt which kind of looks like those skirts we used to wear in school, but it’s my absolute favorite piece.
With my black pumps on, I shove my gym gear into my bag and quickly apply some makeup. If I’m on the market, I need to take better care of myself. Then it dawns on me how unfamiliar it is to be alone, and the thought of finding someone new fills me with fear. Thank the Lord I’m not Trina, though, and being thirty-two should make me wise enough to avoid the douchebags who lurk in the city.
My hair is always quick to misbehave, so I run some product through it and let it out. I may control and plan everything in my life, but my hair will forever be untamed. Bouncing curls may be ideal to some, but I call it a walking disaster.
It’s just before nine when I make my way into the office. Honestly, there is nothing more enjoyable than sitting in a quiet office before all the mayhem begins.
I have been working at Lantern Publishing for almost ten years, starting as a junior and working my way toward my goal of Editor-in-Chief. It’s not as big as other publishing houses, but we retain good staff, and together, we work well.
At times, my job is repetitive, reading manuscript after manuscript with no end in sight. Occasionally, that golden egg hatches, and there is nothing more exciting than holding the next bestseller in your hands.
After working long hours last week, I feel confident pitching a new manuscript to my co-editors in a few hours. My presentation is ready to go, and I have prepared myself for the usual questions or negative comments that might arise.
My steaming hot tea sits on my coaster beside my computer monitor. Allowing it to cool down, I arrange my pens in order from shortest to longest and place my Post-it notepad in exact alignment with the pens. I glance over at the clock, and the second it flicks to nine, I turn my computer on and start scouring through my emails.
The noise starts to invade the office floor as colleagues drag themselves in, fleeing to their cubicles as they talk above the partitions. I try my best to avoid the distraction, but office gossip is difficult to ignore, especially when the office tramp, Dee, starts talking about her Saturday night. Talk about loose lips, and I don’t mean the ones on her face.
I reach for my mug and throw the tea bag into the trash, pulling the mug toward my lips. I allow the steam to linger when all of a sudden, my seat jerks forward, and part of my tea lands on my keyboard and blouse.
“What the f—”
“Office 101, no cussing in the workplace,” he interrupts.
The hot liquid scalds my skin, and I turn to see who knocked into me so carelessly.
I grit my teeth to control my temper. My vision is all red with his face as a target.
The fucking asshole.
Haden Cooper—my office rival.
Do not encourage childish behavior. I’m not giving him anything to work with.
Grabbing some tissues, I attempt to wipe my blouse. The brown stain seeps through the loose white fabric. Just great. Months of saving for the ridiculously expensive blouse only for it to be ruined with a tea stain.
His hands land firmly on my seat, and he swivels me around until we are facing each other. I am ready to blow and give it to him but am distracted as he grabs some tissues and attempts to wipe down my blouse.
“Um, excuse me? Get your filthy hands off me.” I push his hands away, his widening smirk indicating how much he’s enjoying this.
“Sorry about that, you’re a little wet and stained.”
“Well, no shit. The next time you want to play dodgem cars with your office chair, have some respect for your colleagues around you,” I huff.
“Aww, what’s wrong, Miss M
alone? Sounds to me like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”
I stop wiping my blouse, abruptly moving my head until my eyes meet his. Never having paid this much attention to him before, I stare directly into the hazel eyes that sit behind his thick, black-rimmed glasses. Tiny freckles are scattered across his nose, and his annoying smirk is accentuated as his lips purse together. For some reason, my focus turns to his eyebrows, perfectly sculpted on his freshly tanned face. Such a metrosexual. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hit the tanning salon along with a hot wax afterward.
The nerve of this fucking asshole to do this today, a Monday morning for Christ’s sake, when I have a presentation to do in one hour. And my poor, poor blouse. I had high hopes that it would keep me smiling throughout the whole presentation ordeal.
I no longer care what comes out of my mouth.
Haden Cooper needs a lesson in manners, and I am just about to give it to him when he pulls my chair closer to him, catching me off guard with a devilish grin.
“You know, if you woke up with me, you’d always be on the right side of the bed.”
These young guys are their cheesy lines. It’s almost laughable.
