Sweet Rush

Three

"I can't believe you talked to Jane Pritchard. Maybe I should start working at your bar." Avana praises while looking off into the distance as if she's actually contemplating giving up med school for bartending.

I had told her all about my chaotic day and how Jane had come to my 'rescue' and offered his unsolicited advice. I couldn't believe how demure he was in person after seeming like the life of the party on the net. His social media is full of party pics with friends, and if not a party then somewhere outdoors. It's a vast contrast to the persona I'd been following ever since I came into the knowledge of his existence. One thing I can say for sure is that he looks so much better in person. This would usually be used in the context where someone appears ugly in pictures but the thing is he didn't. He's absolutely breathtaking in his photos and the real thing is just way better. It's like the 'book is better than the movie' thing. He's the book and his pictures are the movie, nevertheless he's gorgeous.

"What does he smell like?" Avana asks, her hazel brown orbs staring up at me with wonder.

"He was too far away and why would I even highlight that it's literally so weird." I giggle, throwing a pillow at her. Her hollow dimple on her left cheek makes an appearance as she laughs brightly at the gesture. Avana is a beauty, too beautiful for her to even notice. She downplays herself with comments like 'she's not as pretty as the other girls' when falling into the scammish trap of dating a boy. But the thing is she's beautiful in her own right and shouldn't do herself an injustice by comparing herself to others. I wish she could see herself through my eyes, not only does she look like she can grace the cover of Vogue next to Zendaya, but her soul is sweeter than a flower's nectarine. When we first met I kind of wondered why she chose to be a doctor when she can just use her face and body for money. And no I'm not talking prostitution, I'm talking modelling. Her personality is also perfect for networking.

Although, she's a head turner, she's a bit of a weirdo as you can tell from exhibit A.

"I gotta leave soon." I tell Avana and she scurries away leaving me to get ready for my evening shift. My hands still ache from the incident but thanks to Avana, they don't hurt as much as they did before. She disinfected the minute cuts and with her expert doctor skills, she intricately wrapped my palms, applying pressure where need be.

I pull on my black leather pants and top it off with a jacket to match. More than half of my entire wardrobe is black, as a means of expression. I'm not goth, but I feel like the colour black just screams everything I need it to. My hair is slicked back into a low bun, and I dress it up with a pair of medium-sized gold hoops.

I exit the apartment, moving directly to the bus stop. On my way there my phone vibrates in my pockets and on my screen is my bank notification.

Pay day.

Out of habit, I open my banking app wondering if I'll be able to enjoy myself with consideration of rent and other bills looming. I'm more of a saver than a spender so I've got a chunk of savings that I can literally blow on anything, however, I choose to ration before spending anything. In that regard, I end up spending nothing with exclusion of my bills. The app takes a moment to load and when I behold the amount added, I'm left speechless. My pay from the last two weeks reflects that I'm two hundred dollars short. This has never happened before and I'm left considering if there was an error in the timecards.


This obviously has to be a mistake, I worked overtime for the past three days. Nothing adds up and if it's one thing I'm critical about it's my money. I make a mental task to ask Mr. Pritchard about this and have it straightened out.

As aforementioned, I'm positive it's just an error in my time card that can hopefully easily be fixed.

I'm not a position where I'm tight on cash but I believe in fairness and most importantly the law. If this can't get straightened out, I'll have to figure out my next move. I get to the bar and place my bag into my locker before making a beeline to the office. When I get to the door, I knock gently before hearing "come in" but it's not the voice I'm used to hearing. Skeptically I open the door only to come face to face with Jane except he's staring down at his phone. 
Oh heck no. I'm not talking about my pay with him.