Pressure

Chapter 1

AN: This is the first chapter I've ever written, so any feed back is so welcome! I hope this small start makes you want to read on. This is going to be based on Flip mainly, but we might get a couple of Kylo elements here and there... I'll update as often as possible and have a couple of chapters ready to go already. WARNING: this is going to be smutty... shameless, self indulgent smut. I'll add TW as I go, but this chapter is TAME compared to what's going to come. Bare with me and I hope you enjoy! Love ARx

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'Miss? A black americano, yes?' the question slowly registered in your mind. 'I'm sorry, yes, black, please... thank you.' you focussed on ordering your coffee, returning to reality from the pleasant nothingness you'd drifted into.

You quickly paid and moved along the line, much to the relief of the already exasperated barista. Your daydreams, or lack of, were becoming a regular occurence. The precious seconds that you weren't required to focus on work were a delicious luxury, to be enjoyed wherever possible. Even if it was to the detriment of your reputation at the local coffee shop.

You took in your surroundings, as familiar as they were, the usual patrons sat chatting with friends or working furiously at laptops, but your attention was drawn by a sofa in the back, unoccupied, sheltered and oh so inviting. You longed to take your coffee and sink into the plush cushions, but just as the idea tempted you to the point of action, your phone rang.

'Are you free? I've got someone on the line, they sound like they've got an attitude already.' Beth's voice resonated in your ears as you grabbed your coffee and pushed through the door you'd walked through only minutes ago.

'I'm just grabbing lunch, I'll be back in 5, keep them on the line or tell them I'll call them back please?'

'I'll try for you! But I think they'll stay on the line, I can tell they're not happy.'

'Thanks Beth. Don't worry about it, I'll handle them. The customer's always right, remember?'

'Always...' You could hear the grimace in Beth's voice as you ended the call. So much for a lunch outside of the office you thought, running across the road, narrowly avoiding the midday traffic. The chorus of aggrieved drivers followed you as you crossed into reception, taking the stairs two at time and reaching your office 2 minutes faster than expected. You discarded your lunch and finished your coffee, grabbing the phone and flashing Beth an 'I told you so' smile.

'Hello, how can I help today?' Your overly pleasant tone at direct odds with the displeasure you felt at your interrupted break

'I was expecting an email today and I've not yet received it, the receptionist I spoke to clearly hasn't passed the message on.' The clipped male voice didn't exactly take you by surprise.

'It was myself you spoke to Sir, not a receptionist, I have the message and will get to it as soon as possible.' You kept your tone measured, but authoritative. It wasn't the first time you'd been labelled as the receptionist and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But as the manager of your department, the assumption always irked you.

'Oh' he stammered. 'Yes of course, I'm sorry, thank you.' The phone went dead and you smiled, suitably satisfied that you'd caused the caller to cringe. Beth looked up as you finished, glancing between you and the half eaten pastry lying on the desk.

'Take it, I've got a meeting to get to and I can't arrive covered in the remnants of the best croissant this side of the Atlantic...'

Beth laughed. 'Thanks' she managed, through mouthfuls of what you wished had been your lunch.

You hadn't been lying when you said you had a meeting, but your concerns over the pastry weren't exactly truthful. You'd always felt confident within your job, you were good at what you did and had gained promotions that recognised your worth. But your meeting this afternoon had you nervous and you'd lost your appetite, not that you'd ever care to admit it. You put it down to stress.

You stopped in the bathroom before you left, peering into the mirror. You still looked good, but you could see the purple rings under your eyes, threatening to peek through the concealer you'd deftly applied to hide them. The lack of sleep wasn't doing wonders for your self image and you quietly swore to change your routine of late night Netflix and too much caffeine. You ran a brush through your hair, smoothing out the long waves and pushing them down your back. Slicking a deep red lipstick over your cupid's bow and an extra swipe of mascara on your lashes, you threw the make up in your hand bag and turned to leave.

You jumped back as you felt someone push the door as you went to pull, a sound of surprise escaped your mouth. You cursed your nerves.

'Sorry I didn-' you didn't finish your sentence. You were eye level with a strangers chest, clad in a plaid shirt. Your eyes naturally moved upwards and met his, as you stepped back instinctively.

'I'm sorry Miss, I was looking for the bathroom, clearly I've got the wrong door.' The stranger smiled as he apologised, looking directly at you.

'It's ok, uh, I was just leaving.' You felt your cheeks redden. The eyes you were looking into belonged to one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen.

'I can see that.' He smiled again, not breaking eye contact. 'Think you could show me where I need to be?' He held the door open and moved to the side, gesturing for you to slip under his arm and lead the way.

'Uhm, yeah sure, of course.' You moved towards him, looking down at your feet. If you looked at his face any longer, you were sure you would trip.

It didn't work.

As he let you pass, you made your way to the top of the stairs, glancing back at him, making sure he was following you. As you took your first step, your heel caught  and your hand missed the rail. You lurched forward, trying to grab onto thin air. Visions of scraped knees and twisted ankles flashed before you and just as you felt yourself fall, a hand grabbed your waist.

It was large, larger than any man's hand you'd felt before and the grip was strong. You seemed to hang in midair for what felt like forever until he slowly brought you back to your feet. Once again on solid ground, you stared at the face of the man who had just stopped you from hurtling down the cold, metal, stairs.

Despite the fear you'd felt moments ago, all you could think about was his warm hand on your waist and the strands of long, black hair obscuring those round hazel eyes that had distracted you in the first place.