More Issues Than Vogue | ✔️

Chapter 1

A/N 2020: I've been re-reading this and going through the comment section lately and I'd like to clarify that I wrote this when 8 years ago before publishing it the year after. At that time, I was completely naive and in a Wattpad universe where the "I'm not like other girls" and the "hot millionaire" tropes were literally the only stories getting written/read at the time. That being said, everything about this first chapter (and the first half of the book tbh) makes my entire being cringe LOL. My writing and perspective on real world experiences is completely different now. I would re-write it but I'll keep it this way for the haters 😘✌🏽

Chapter 1

I started to feel very warm.

In the pit of my chest, a burning sensation crept up and flooded my cheeks. The back of my dress stuck to my skin, restricting swift movements, and when I slowly lifted a free hand to my forehead, I was greeted with moist perspiration. As I lowered the shot glass back onto the bar counter, I began to breathe heavily.

God, after only three shots of tequila, really? I knew graduating college would mean entering the harsh reality of adulthood but I didn't realize it marked the end of my mediocre level of alcohol tolerance that had considerably gotten me through four years at Yale. Countless essays, research papers, and the fifty-three textbooks I had endured weren't celebrated with sleep, but with my best friends - Jameson and Captain Morgan. If I had built any strength while at college it was in my liver.

Tonight could have proven otherwise. Already, the shelves of bottles behind the bartender started to tilt sideways and my vision slightly blurred at the edges. A good explanation would be the nerves taking over, causing the alcohol to easily enter my blood stream. It was, after all, my first night alone in New York City. My parents had left a few of hours ago after helping move the truck load of cargo I had from our humble abode in San Francisco to the quaint studio apartment in downtown Manhattan. Growing up in a diversified city like San Francisco was hectic but the minute I stepped onto New York soil I knew it was a world apart. The streets were busier, the people had multiplied by thousands, and the air had grown thicker. It was intimidating - New York City was unlike any other.

I was happy to get away from home to start my own life. Mom and dad had become increasingly and  irritatingly clingy for the months leading up to my departure and I was suffocating under their care. At first, moving back home after college seemed like a genius idea. Free housing, free food, free laundry. Everything I took for granted as a child I suddenly appreciated. But they couldn't let go of the messy breakup with my ex-boyfriend of two years, Matt (who they worshipped). Considering I was their only baby, they continued to treat me like one. It's been almost a year since we ended things and my parents still think they need to tip toe around my feelings. It seemed as if they were taking the break up harder than I had.

I was given a fresh start. I didn't have Matt in the back of my mind or my parents breathing down my neck. So, I was determined to make this first night memorable, which was tough since I didn't know a single soul. I had no family on the East Coast, most of my college friends were from other parts of the country. I had no connections to anyone in the state.

The only reason I was even at this dim-lighted, curtain covered, glowing floor club slash bar, was because my apartment complex is down the street. I literally walked here.

Considering how my night's already buzzing, I might have to find someone to walk me back, especially since tomorrow would be my first day as an intern for Forward magazine.

Shit. Maybe I shouldn't have gone out tonight. I mean, tomorrow is my first day. This was a huge opportunity, one that I may never have again. Forward magazine? Chester Publications? I had to make a good impression on all the other interns and the people that work at the magazine, yet I'm alone at a bar buzzed? What am I doing?