11/28 by uliaj06

two

FLASHBACK

8 months ago

When people said that New York winters were cold, I didn't think they meant this cold.

My tits are fucking freezing.

It's been a few months of me living here, and because of this damn snow, I'm struggling to get to work. I have to walk because Aelin, who's supposedly my best friend but isn't doing a very good job at it, drives me. But today, of all days, she decided to stay home because she didn't want to leave her bed.

Luckily. It's only a ten-minute walk from my apartment to the café. But ten minutes really feels like an hour when your face feels like it's about to crack into a million pieces, and your body is physically exhausted from shivering.

I am wearing appropriate clothing for the weather, but I get cold easily. And I should be used to it, I lived in Wisconsin my whole life, but I'm almost always cold.

Thanks a lot, Ae.

My face is going to crack into a million pieces.

As I enter the café, I instantly get hit with warmth and the comforting smell of coffee.

Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU.

"Rowan, what the hell happened to you?" Dylan asks me in surprise, already putting together my coffee.

I'm covered in snow.

What if I'm dead...

I literally cannot feel anything. My fingers are so numb.

"I had to walk here. Aelin decided to stay at home because she didn't feel like getting up." I say, making Dylan laugh a little.

"You could pass for a snowman." She notes. I take off my thick jacket after what she said, patting the snow off my pants.

"Spilt something?" I ask, referring to the big stain on her apron.

She looks down at her apron and sighs. "Yeah, I've been running around like a maniac trying to get orders in since you came here late."

She hands me the coffee and I exhale a relieved breath, the warmth feeling amazing against my almost frozen fingers. Behind me, Dylan was trying to get the snow out of my black hair.

"Don't you have a car or something?" I hear Lynn ask from one of the tables.

I took a sip of my coffee. Somehow freezing your ass off makes coffee taste a hundred times better. I sit down across from Ashlynn, my favorite regular at this café. She's in her early 30's and has straight, brown, shoulder length hair. She comes here every morning.

"Nope." I shake my head, swallowing and focusing on my heart rate to slow down from the rush I was in getting here. Her stability and stillness embarrassingly contrast the mess I am. "My friends usually drive me," I answer, trying to look as calm as her and everyone else in this place.

She sits with perfect posture. Proper and formal, no stray hair seems out of place from her pin straight hair, defined cheekbones like a doll, and pointed collarbones. The kind of woman who has routine workouts and drinks sugar-free coffees with almond milk. Vegan, Gluten-free, yoga, daily spinach salads.

"Why don't you get a car?" she asks with her laptop opened in front of her.

"I don't have enough money. I'm trying to cut my parents out of my life and live independently, so I'm trying to do this without their financial help."

"What are you planning on doing? College? Being a doctor? An actress? Have any plans yet?"

I shake my head while drinking my coffee. "I don't really have a plan. I honestly have no clue what I want to do." My number one goal was to get away from my parents, that house, and that town. The place where I've spent my whole life in. I realized I have time, I shouldn't rush things, and I should enjoy life.

New York just so happened to be an option for me, so I packed my bags and decided I wanted more than what my parents wanted me to be. It's fine that I didn't know what I was doing. The best moments come unplanned.

"Maybe something to do with fashion?" I think out loud. The fashion industry always fascinated me, and she has those eyes that bore into yours and hold you against your will. So, I answered.

She looks up at me with raised eyebrows, perfectly shaped. "Which part of the fashion industry are you interested in?" She spoke with a soothed voice.

I suck in an uncertain breath, looking around the place, trying to think of something to say that won't make me sound stupid. I don't even know what the parts of the industry are.

"I don't have that experience of knowing yet." I look down at the sewed stitches on my sweater. "Maybe something with fashion shows, I always found interest in those. But something backstage, maybe to just assist." I shrug my shoulders. "I hate attention." It makes me anxious.

I get anxious a lot. Stressed too. I've always been weak, physically talking. It feels like I'm fragile at times, easily getting cold and sick.

"Well... lucky for you, I work in the fashion industry. I'm a manager for a couple of different shows." She smiles at me.

My expression falters in surprise at the convenience. I blink at her, questioning if this was actually real. "Really?" I don't know what else to say, I feel like an idiot.

"If you'd like, I could get you in some small shows as an assistant. Maybe to see if you'd like the industry. And if you do enjoy it, and of course if you do well. there's a show that I'll be managing in September. It's for the brand Ralph Lauren. Maybe you've heard of it? I could always use more assistants." She suggests.

"You could do that?" I stare at her dumbfounded at how lucky I got. This stuff doesn't happen to me.

"Of course." She replied with a smile. . "I'm a manager, sweetheart."

"Then yeah. Yes." I nod, my heart is leaping out of my chest. This usually isn't that easy; luck doesn't usually just show up in my mornings.

"How soon do you think you can start?" She tilts her head, never breaking eye contact with me, a pleased smile painted on her lips.

I stare in disbelief, waiting for her to tell me she's joking.

"I can start as soon as possible. Any show you could get me into would be great." This isn't happening. This is just a dream. Maybe it's the snow, maybe some kind of ice is seeping into my brain causing me to actually be delusional.

"Hey, since you're new to this, I can be your manager if this path works out for you. If you give me your number, I can contact you when I'm able to get you in."

I'm pretty sure I'm in shock.

"Umm—yes—please—" I stutter while struggling to grab my phone from the pocket of my jacket.

Rowan, you've embarrassed yourself .