Under His Spell

Chapter Two

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Chapter Two

“Did you do it?” My voice sounds giddy for once when I ask Quinn this. She rolls her eyes at me when she opens up the glass door that leads into the TeenUSA Weekly building. On the outside, the building is gray and dull, but on the inside, iridescent colors cover the walls and floor. When you come in, you literally feel like you on the red carpet…we have a red carpet.

“Of course not, Sara. I’m not like you. I don’t hold a grudge against him.” I send daggers to the back of her head.

“I don’t hold a grudge against Tristan…personally.”I hold a grudge against all men, not just one in specific. Okay, that’s a major lie. I hold a grudge against he who shall not be named. No, not Voldamort.

“Seriously. It would have been a funny joke.” Salt in a coffee would be majorly funny. Especially since he is allergic…one less man to worry about.

Okay, Sara, that was harsh, I tell myself, but when do I care? I’ve been cruel for four years now and counting.

“To you. Were not in high school anymore. This is the real world.”

“Oh really? If this is the real world, why won’t your sorry ass finally be brave enough to ask a guy out?” Flinch. Nice going, Sara. Quinn’s face turns bright red and I immediately feel bad. After all, she is the only one close enough to my heart.

“Sorry. That was mean to say.”

“But it’s true.”

“I know but I shouldn’t have said it.” Quinn shoots a smile my way and I know I’m on her safe side now.

“Just forget about it. We’re going to be late.” We walk into the elevator and she presses the number 21. There are a total of 32 floors, all for the same magazine. Fashion, make-up, stories, etc etc. Honestly, I think the writer’s should have the top floor; we do most of the work. Well, the writer’s, not my specialty.

Inside the elevator with me and Quinn is Cynthia. She has curly blonde hair that bounces when she does and gray eyes. She wears black pants with a blouse that shows a lot of her cleavage. Right now, she stands one inch taller than me due to her four inch killer heels; I’m 5’7, she’s 5’4.

Cynthia smiles at us. “Hello Quinn…Sara.” She says my name sourly. I’m at the top of Cynthia’s Hate List; she rules the top of mine, right next to Tristan. She tries to get me fired, but fails every time because I hide myself too well for her wee little brain to figure out.

While me, I’ve gotten her fired twice, and they always hire her back, probably due to her looks and the fact that her daddy could ruin the magazine in one snap of a finger. I found her getting hot and heavy with her boss, which is majorly forbidden in this building. I also found her trying to light the building on fire because she was drunk, but since she couldn’t figure out how to turn the lighter on, she got nowhere.

I put on my fake smile and say, “Hello, Cindy. How’s the job coming? I hope your taking your job seriously this time and not sharing your body.” I never really come up with good comebacks, but anything that I say always makes her blood boil. Especially when I call her by her nickname.

Her smile twitches. Her body stiffens and she crosses her arms. “Oh, Sara, you always have been the concerned one, haven’t you?”

“If I am ever concerned for anyone, you’d be at the bottom of the list,” I snarl. The elevator comes to a stop on floor 12 and two men walk in, chatting. They stand between me and Cynthia. Quinn has been the quiet the whole time, and she stands against the back.