Pucker Up (In My League Series #1)

Ace

Devon

There are very few moments that measure to how shit things are right now. The thing right now being the sinking realisation that I already knew I was going to be rejected just by the tone of 'hello' the interviewer started with as I answered the phone.

I was somehow laying across my single bed with my feet propped up on the wall and crossed at the ankles as my head hangs off the edge, my soft brown curls dangling down while I listen to this prat rattle my ear off. Staring upside down at the brown patch on the wall opposite my bed, I silently let them apologise for the rejection and the appreciation for taking the time to apply.

"-furthermore, we hope that we can still see you here shopping with us at Target as we love to care for our customers-" I roll my eyes. The audacity of this man. Clearly their team have to amend that statement because that is not in good taste after rejection at all.

I am half tempted to hang up on his too good for me face but the good girl in me overpowers the very little badass chick side.

"Thank you for your application." The man says, breathing heavily to indicate he's waiting on a reply from me.

"Thanks for the opportunity!" My voice goes sugary fake as I hang up on his face. This could have been great cashier 'have a good day!' material but that's Targets loss.

I roll over and groan loudly into my pillow, prompting a knock on my bedroom door not even three seconds later.

"I take it that didn't go well?"

My stereotypically nerdy looking best friend, Laney walks in, covered in her big fluffy oodie. Yes, we were the dumb girls with the dumb idea to chase whatever imagination of living highly in a big city like this.

I knew that if I didn't get a job soon, I'd have to move back to California and accept the I told you so from my whole family. Which to be honest, I would rather be broke than do.

The 'you wouldn't have this much trouble if you took on medicine' or 'you wasted four years on a pointless degree', and my personal favourite 'nothing is ever going to become of your farfetched ideas with that degree'. I wonder did they have a problem with the degree I graduated with.

I turn my upside down head to face the soft look on her face as she leaned on the door. "That depends, am I sad I didn't get the job or happy that now I get to call Target my enemy." I retort, annoyed that both of those options are lame.

"Both sound pretty terrible." She says, pushing her black framed glasses up her nose. Despite being the much shyer one between the two of us, she was popular. I mean, one - she was gorgeous, even hidden behind all the two sizes too big clothes and two - looks didn't matter when she was probably the soundest girl you would ever meet.

Sometimes I wondered whether we would be friends at all if we hadn't known each other since we were in diapers. We were basically sisters, or more like really close cousins considering we don't fight much.

I sat up with a 'harumph', ignoring the slight dizziness as I did. "Ugh what am I going to do? I'm breaking out at the thought of having to move back home." Which was true, the rough and uneven skin on my cheek was irritating the shit out of me on top of my financial situation.

"First of all, drink some water," I rolled my eyes. Her solution was always to drink more water, "Second, you're looking at the wrong places. Miriam told me the other day that there are plenty of assistant jobs." She plopped down beside me, tucking her feet into her oodie like a turtle.

I snorted, not wanting to even go near that kind of position again. "I'd rather clean men toilets at the gas station everyday than sit and fetch coffee for some hot-headed CEO with a stick up his ass who thinks he's god's gift to the earth." I retort. Been there, done that, never again.