Straighter than Parallel Parking

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A/N: STRAIGHTER THAN PARALLEL PARKING is officially in the #WattyAwards2015! Thoughts?

If you guys would be so kind to vote/comment your opinions and all to support the story, it would be forever acknowledged and appreciated! Thank you so much. Now, onto the story!
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{ Chapter Eight: Later than the Average Late }

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SHE KNEW IT WAS TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE to have such great luck for the past few days. Maybe she'd jinxed it by getting her hopes up. Somehow along the week, that spark of faith had gotten larger, as if every good omen thrown her way had dropped kerosene and fed the fire, until it became too large to contain. It wasn't a shocker that it combusted in her face somehow.

But more than that, she just wants to laugh at the curveball life threw at her, pitched by irony itself. Who would've thought that on her path to finding her inner... woman, did she have to accompany it with a goddamn written report? Life lessons; they're worse than the syllabus she'd ever learn from in class.

And on top of that, she'd been so consumed by her thoughts that she'd gotten home and promptly crashed on the sofa, inhaling its musky scent, before she lulled into a sleep. She'd only gotten up to the shaking of her body. "Wha?" her groggy voice asked, annoyed.

Karlo's voice was easy to block out until, "... didn't you have work at six? It's almost 5:30, Janice!"

Bloodshot eyes and almost as if she'd just suddenly consumed a gallon of caffeine, Janice sprung up, already rushing to get changed, praying that she didn't just mess up a really great thing because she was too exhausted to own up to it. That, and she really wanted to see James' face (because, c'mon, who doesn't?). But since she's known for great first impressions, she couldn't stop fate.

That's how Janice became late for her first job.

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THERE WAS LITERALLY NO BREATH LEFT IN HER LUNGS as she dashed to the store that seemed to look more blurrier by the second. Panting outside the store, she tried to regain some composure -- and non-existent dignity -- as she clenches her eyes, puffs up her hair, and practices breathing exercises to get her pulse to a more reasonable rate.

Pushing a façade to the front to hide her terror, she strolls into the -- god, what the hell was that? -- store, she catches sight of Brielle, and she breathes a little easier knowing that she had at least one familiar face.

Hurrying over to the stunning girl, she tries to avoid eye contact with any of the women she could tell were definitely not workers. Trying to put her prejudice eyes away (that woman should so not even think about trying that on) she finally reaches Brielle, who had her back turned as she restocked some, uh, things.

"Brielle?" Janice asked quietly, and Brielle spun around, a bright beam on her face. "I'm so sorry I'm a little late, I didn't even realize--"

"Who cares?" Brielle said, and Janice inwardly forgave all those nasty thoughts she'd said about life in the short drive here. "I'm not on break yet, and James is out for lunch, so he asked me to help you get settled into your routine."

Janice frowned for two reasons. One, James was not there, and oddly, she didn't feel ashamed in the slightest because she was so hung up over this fact, and two, that she had to work with these--these things. It was as if the glorified concept of earning a job completely faded out the fact that not only did she need to do some actual work, it also meant that she needed to work with things she'd probably never have touched with a tennis racquet otherwise. Go figure (which half the people here seemed to lack).