𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 ✓

SIX

-

The next day, I wake up from my restless sleep at seven, as I usually do. Work starts in two hours, and I stretch myself while preparing myself to get out of bed. Suddenly, yesterday starts to flashback into my memory while I hear Chester scratching on the door, eager to get in my room. I lie still, head sunken into my pillow, hands grasping onto the blanket while I realize that yesterday evening was different.

The second we'd stepped foot into the utterly dark room, no further rude comments had left Sebastian's mouth. Instead, we even talked rather normally, engaged in conversation with others from the group while we tried to figure out how to get the food to our mouths without spilling.

I recall the smell that had reached my nose before it got drowned out by the delicious smell of everyone's food. Woody, natural, bold yet soothing.

I recall how my heart started beating so much faster the second I realized how our thighs were pressed together due to the group being too large for the table. How hot I felt, almost sweating at the thought of how firm his chest had felt against my back. No, Charlotte, don't you dare.

To get away from those thoughts, I instantly hop out of bed, seeing stars at the sudden movement. With a groan, I open the door, and Chester presses himself against my legs, purring loudly before marching toward my messy bed to lay down on it like it was his. Kelly is not up yet, her shift starts at the restaurant starts at eleven-thirty today. Barefoot, I shuffle into the bathroom that desperately needs cleaning and then look at myself in the mirror.

My reflection looks just as tired and drained as I feel, little specs of dried waterdrops messing up the vision I have at myself. I splash water in my face, brush my teeth, and then get back to my room to get dressed. Chester still lays on my bed, eyes closed, apparently sleeping again, and I decide to not make my bed today. Not having to listen to his loud complaints for once is amazing.

I go with the same black dress pants as yesterday night, paired with a navy blue silk blouse whose color shifts with the incoming light from outside. My curly hair is as messy as ever, hanging loose from the bun I'd put it in last night after coming home, heart racing while I hate myself for thinking about him so much.

I redo the bun, careful to make it look a bit sleeker now, and do the usual bit of makeup that I put on every day: mascara, a dark-nude shade on my lips, and some powder to conceal my redness that peeks through my bronze skin.

Chester is still sleeping silently as I walk to the kitchen to get breakfast. Just a quick coffee and the last bit of cereal out of the box, with the last bit of milk, which turns out to be not enough for the amount of cereal. Knowing that we don't have any new milk in the apartment now, I surrender, eating my rather dry breakfast while I hear the first noises from Kelly's room.

"Morning," I shout out the kitchen door as I hear her tired steps on the hallway flooring. Chester meows. Internally, I hope for a light, breezy day, the last bits of summer of the year, filled with nothing but insouciance, but shove the hopes aside instantly. I shouldn't hope for something that won't come true. My life isn't that easy.

"I hate morning people," Kelly eventually says her first words, her hair tousled in all directions, her shirt wrinkled and tight around her body, showing off every curve she has.

"You don't have pants on," I say with a huff, shoving the last spoonful of cereal into my mouth. Kelly groans in response while I munch on the last bit of food I'll get until two-thirty.

"I need coffee," she replies, ignoring my comment, and I point to the coffee machine. I got it for my twenty-fourth birthday, from my mum who thought I needed more coffee in my life without spending half my paycheck at Starbucks every month.

"There's some more in the pot," I say with my mouth full, and without further comment, Kelly grabs a mug, fills it up with the still steaming coffee, pours her creamer in, and chugs it in one go, leaving me with my eyebrows raised.

"Are you okay?" I ask hesitantly as I get up to put the dirty dishes in the sink. Kelly grunts.

"She'd not text me back last night," she reveals, and I shake my head.

"She will," I assure her, and she flashes a death stare toward me.

"Sure," she growls and takes the rest of her coffee with her back to her room, Chester following her with a loud meow. Glad that the cat is no longer in my room, I walk back there, making my bed, and finally looking at my phone for the first time today. No new messages. Pathetic.

-

What would the walk from the subway station to work be without a stop at Starbucks, I ask myself as I walk into the lobby, iced coffee in hand, approaching the elevators as I do every morning. I take a swig, the doors open, and I step inside.

"Hold the door!" I hear a shout echoing through the entrance hall, and almost don't recognize the shout is addressing me. I press the button to open the elevator's doors repeatedly, and they slide open again, letting the guy enter the cabin with me. Of course, my day wouldn't be complete without another weird interaction with Sebastian. He stands beside me, viewing me from the side, and I once again feel the blood rushing to my face, reddening my face.

"Morning," I choke out, my throat suddenly raspy, and I curse myself for my body's reaction to him. I sigh. He can't ever know I feel my throat closing and shivers traveling down my spine when he looks at me this intensely. It would boost his ego and he would be even more insufferable. "Look at you, distracted by my obvious good looks, Emmons." I can practically hear him say that.

"Mhm," he grunts in response, and eventually turns away from me, giving me the opportunity to look at him secretly. Today, he is wearing dark blue pants with a white shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He grasps onto his briefcase as per usual, making his knuckles turn white and the veins on his arms pop out. I swallow the knot in my throat and sigh, taking a sip of my iced coffee, now demonstratively staring at the silvery doors that should release us onto the thirtieth floor any second now.

As we step out, he looks over to me again, and I meet his gaze, trying to look as confident as possible.

"Do you ever stop sighing, Emmons?" he asks harshly. And just like that, all the tingles I felt are gone, vanished as if they never existed in the first place. His rude and mean comments really destroy the image of the Golden Boy that everyone seems to love. And they make me feel invalid, even though they shouldn't. I'm a confident woman, aren't I? Around him, you're not.