Pink Slip {h.s.}

PART II

Talulah's P.O.V.

I don't think this week could get any worse.

Last week was hell, more in terms of being occupied. It was one of the busiest weeks I have ever had working for Mr. Styles and at Flood & Strobel in general. This week though, was personally one of the worst weeks of my life.

After I woke up on his couch after accidentally passing out the other day, I instantly felt guilty when I saw his keys were on his entry table and his plaid coat was hung by the door. It was only 5pm, so he wasn't expected home for another hour or so. I felt twice as guilty when I realized one of the blankets that usually stayed folded on the edge of the couch was placed over me. I put myself together and refolded the blanket before I walked to his office and knocked on his door.

"Mr. Styles,"

"Come in," he called out.

I opened the door and saw him behind his desk. His head was down in his hands and I noticed that he had already poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"I just wanted to say that I am sorry for falling asleep. I didn't sleep a lot last night and I only intended to nap for like 20 minutes," I walked up to his desk, pulling a tissue out of the box and placing his drink on top of it so it wouldn't create a ring on his nice wooden desk. "I guess I slept through my timer, I am so, so sorry."

"You're fine," he says with a sigh.

"Oh," I say with confusion. "Okay. Is there anything I can do before I head out for the night?"

"No. Go home Talulah." The way he said my name made me want to cry right there. I knew I shouldn't have fallen asleep, it really was a total accident. Granted, the dream I was having made me want to stay asleep forever, but still, I was going to wake up before he even got home.

I understood that he was upset with me but I didn't know why this much. Sure, to the average eye you might think that I got off lucky. But, like I have said, I am very observant when it comes to him. We have always kept our relationship professional, sometimes bordering on the possibility of friends, more like casual acquaintances, but there were always certain things he did. He always keeps chocolate and vanilla swirl pudding cups in the fridge for me. (He claimed they were for his nieces and nephews who rarely stop by.) I knew they were for me because he caught me eating one the first night we met and ever since then has called me Puddin. That's the other thing. He doesn't say it often, but he always says it when we say goodbye. That was my first sign that something was wrong. Like when you're texting a friend and they respond with just a "k." Or when you're talking to someone and they're nodding along and you can tell that they didn't care in the first place. This was that. It wasn't a big deal, but it keyed me in on the fact that something was wrong, and it only got more and more frustrating from there.

The next morning my car battery died. I was already running late because I forgot to dip the cream puffs I had made the night before in the chocolate, so by the time I was in the car I was ready to cry. I wanted to call Ben, but I didn't know if Mr. Styles was using his car or not and I didn't want to be a hassle.

I called Niall who luckily was able to give me a lift to and from work every day this week until my car got fixed. When I got to work it wasn't too late, only about 20 minutes behind when I usually come in. I walked into Mr. Styles office with his usual coffee, extra sugar packets in case he needed them (although I know he keeps the extras I bring in the drawer.)

"You're late," Mr. Styles said without tearing his eyes away from his computer.

"I'm sorry sir I-"