The Affair With My Professor

Thirty Three

(It's been a hot minute but I'm here and I'm updating. I figured I'd speed things up a little!)

Y/N POV-

Since the events of the last three weeks have been significantly important, I figured I'd give you the run-through diary entry style.

Week One working for Serena.

Technically speaking I worked for Serena for all of 8 hours this week covering her assistant's Saturday shifts but the laps that woman had me running had me feeling like I'd been working for her all my life. With every second I spent around the spiteful woman I physically felt myself getting older, my skin wrinkling and my hair going grey with every drone of her voice.

But it's very clear I'm getting ahead of myself here so let me go back to the very first day when I walked into her office, dressed completely professionally, with her coffee ready in hand. It became abundantly clear in those 2.9 seconds of her seeing me that she was definitely not expecting me. She was definitely expecting someone I guess it'd never even crossed her mind that the last-minute assistant my mother had found her would-be non-other than the woman screwing her wife. Me.

"I have your coffee." I go to hand her the cup, but she doesn't take hold of it so instead, I awkwardly place it down on her desk.

"Y/n?" she questions my presence.

"That me." I nod.

"What are you doing in my office?"

"My job, I'm covering the Saturday shifts, my mother should've told you about this."

"Oh no absolutely not I'm not working with you." she laughs bitterly.

I gulp "I'm not exactly happy about this either but it's three shifts I'd like to get it over and done with without a trouble or issue."

"You're not happy about this? I'm sorry did I sleep with your wife?" she pauses. "No. That's what I thought."

I hold back my every urge to pick up the coffee cup take off the lid and slowly pour the burning liquid over her head, then once the cup is empty, I'd like to drop the cup onto her head and watch it bounce off her brainless skull, but I won't.

"It's three shifts I'm sure we can learn to be civil enough to make this work." I lie. Of course, this won't work. This ends one of two ways A) I kill her B) she kills me. Neither of which I love the idea of all too much, it seems like a lot of effort and cleaning to kill someone and despite all odds, I'm actually happy with my life right now, so I intend to live it.

She hums as she takes the lid off the coffee cup, my mind instantly rushing to my earlier thoughts, praying internally she hadn't had the same urge. Instead, she looks down with an unimpressed face as if she were judging the quality of the coffee sheerly based on its colour.

She takes a sip, quickly spitting it back out into the cup "ugh what is this?"

I hold back my 'bitch face' forcing a smile instead "Coffee." I state the obvious.

"I'll never get what Wanda saw in you," she dumps the coffee in the bin "I have all this. An office, a title, and you," she points at me aimlessly "can't even get me decent coffee."

Anyway, after the whole coffee incident, she gave me a page-long order of instructions on exactly how she wanted her coffee. Now there is nobody, not a coffee fanatic in the world that drinks coffee the way she'd asked me to make it and I knew, trust me I knew she was doing it to drive me insane but not wanting to cause any issues, I complied.