Without You I'll Be Miserable At Best [Alex Gaskarth]

Without You I'll Be Miserable At Best [Alex Gaskarth] .1.

(Hayley's P.O.V.)

"I'm laaaate! Agaiiiin!" I sang through the house as I was getting dressed and blasting music. My cat, Mr. Muffins, ran out of the room to escape my yelling.

I threw my uniform on for work and brushed my teeth while simultaneously singeing my hair with a flat iron. 'Inside Of You' by The Maine was blasting through the speakers in my room, and I'm pretty sure that's why my neighbors all hate me. But I hate them, so it doesn't matter.

I pulled on my shoes and put my bracelets on my wrists. I felt ready and just had to glance at myself in my full-length mirror. I looked…okay. Normal.

Satisfied enough with my attire for another lovely work day, I grabbed my bag and coat, said goodbye to Muffins, and ran out of my apartment. I flew down the stairs and got down to the lobby of my building. As I quickly skipped by the front desk, I heard someone say my name.

"Hayley Gomez! Did you remember to lock your apartment today?" said my friend Linda. Her husband owns my apartment building and she ran the front desk taking calls and such. She's a lovely middle-aged woman who was sort of kind of like a mother to me, although I've never really asked for a mom. She sort of assigned herself the position.

I haulted my skipping and turned to face her. I closed my eyes and took a breath, realizing I had not locked my apartment…again.

Linda chuckled. "Go on to work," she said kindly, "I'll take care of it."

I sighed out of relief. "Thank you a million times, Lind." I said

"Yeah yeah yeah, now get out of here! You're going to be late…again!" she said. I saluted her and left the building.

It was a brisk January day in Baltimore. A light sheet of bright white snow covered the ground.

Winter…ugh.

I hopped in my Honda Civic and sped off to work. I cranked the music to make sure that all of Baltimore could hear The Strokes as I drove. I looked at the clock. It read 9:40. I had to be there in 5 minutes.

I basically floored it down the wintry streets of the city. I glanced back at the clock. 9:43; 2 minutes.

I pulled into the parking lot of the Broadway Diner; my place of work. I hopped out of the car and hurried through the back door to the kitchen just as the clock struck 9:45.

I ran through the kitchen, almost knocking over Morty (the main fry cook). I went to the staff lounge to clock in, but someone had already done it. This annoyed me, and I knew exactly who did it.

I spun around briskly and standing there was Dean. I raised an eyebrow at him as he smirked, smacking his gum and leaning his shoulder against the wall.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," he said. "Late again? You're lucky I was nice enough to punch you in before you got fired."

Dean is a douche bag. He was always flirting with me because he knew it got under my skin.  He's self centered too, and is constantly rude to customers. The only reason he still works here is because his dad is Morty. I hate his guts.

"Dean, go do your job," I said and went to my cubby to grab my apron. "You're lucky I don't dislocate your face," I added.

He laughed. "You're lookin' hot, Gomez. Give me a twirl, let me see allllll of you."

I turned around, flipped him off, and walked out of the room.

"I love you too!" he snickered.

I rolled my eyes and walked to the front of the diner. I tied my apron and tapped the hostess at the podium. She jumped and turned around.

"Ha! I scared you!" I said to my friend Corrie. She rolled her eyes.

"Let me guess, you got here about 5 minutes ago?" she sneered. I put my hand over my heart and gasped.

"I'm hurt," I stated. She let out a short laugh. "You also have tables to wait on!" she said as if it were exciting. "Remember: service with a smile!"

"Oh, I'm all over that," I joked.

________________________________________________________________________________

After my shift, I punched out and walked back to my car being careful not to slip. I climbed in and looked at the clock. 2:34 PM. I groaned, remembering to be at Lydia's house by 3. Oh, what fun.

Lydia is the friend of my mom who raised me. She's what some would call a saint. I guess she gets brownie points for having to raise me, and "rescuing" me from my parents. Whatever, she's nice and all, but I never actually needed a mother.

I drove down the streets of town, hoping to run into as much traffic as possible. I wasn't looking forward to this visit, because all Lydia ever does is tell me to start dating, or to go to some sort of career counselor to plan my life or something. I guess I appreciate her caring, but I'd appreciate less nagging.

'What's My Age Again?' by Blink-182 was blasting as I pulled up to her house. She lives in a fairly wealthy neighborhood in a not-too-shabby-at-all house. I hopped out of my Honda and slammed the door shut so she could hear me. I walked onto the porch, and was about to reach for the door knob when I heard someone's voice yelling something.

It came from next door and sounded something like "BUTT FUCK!"

I laughed briefly then looked over to the house. A lanky guy with black hair, black skinny jeans,  and a purple shirt that said "BONER" was standing in the open doorway laughing. The guy looked familiar, but I couldn't place him name or where I've seen him. He must have said it, I thought. Someone must have dared him.

I chuckled once more and turned to the door again to open the knob, but instead the door flew open and there stood Lydia. She looked slightly exhausted, and I guessed it was because she was cooking since her apron was on. "Hi, Sweetie," she said and waved me in.

"Your neighbors seem…interesting," I said as I took off my coat and kicked off my soggy boots. She shrugged.

"They're a nice group of young men," she said. Oh great, I thought. She went back into the kitchen quickly and took off her apron. We sat down next to each other on the couch in the living room and watched Seinfeld in silence for a few minutes, but then she wanted to talk.

"So, how was work?" she asked. I sighed. "Same old," I replied. She nodded.

"What time is class tonight?" she asked me. I study photography and photo editing at Towson University, and most of my classes are in the evening. I'm going to graduate this year with a degree in digital photo editing.

"Umm, 7," I said. "Should be fun. Can't wait 'til I graduate though."

"Oh I'm sure," she said plainly. I yawned, showing her I wasn't in the mood for her attempts at helping me plan my future. Wait, no, her attempts at planning my future herself. She just crossed her arms.

"Yknow, I really think you should be taking your future more seriously, Hayley," she said. I rolled my eyes.

"I know you think that. But this is my life. You act like I don't know what I'm doing," I said. "Lydia, I'm 23 and almost graduating. I don't need your constant lectures about life."

She sighed. "I just think you're not taking any of this seriously. Plus you're so alone, you don't have a boyfriend to support you. I think that is what's missing."

"Music is my boyfriend, Lyd," I said, "and plus I have Muffins at home. He supports me."

She just chuckled lightly. "I think you should meet the boys next door, though. Maybe make some new friends."

"How about no thanks?" I said. She stood up and raised her hands in defeat. "I give up," she said. "Yeah, only for now, though, right?" I added. She nodded and went to go check up on her food.

If she's planning on setting me up with the kid yelling outside earlier, then she's insane.