More Issues Than Vogue | ✔️

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Last night was a blur.

All I remember was coming home, taking a shower, and collapsing onto my bed feeling mentally and emotionally exhausted. Surprisingly, I had cooled down after an eventful day. The anxiety attack I experienced happened more so because I felt overwhelmed with Nate's arrival than what had actually occurred the night before. It doesn't help that in this big city, I was alone, whereas Nate and his family basically ran downtown Manhattan. In comparison, he had more on the line with his reputation being in the public eye. If word ever got out, the worst that could happen on my end is a termination. 

Although, a sexual harassment case wouldn't look too good on my resume either. Could this even be considered sexual harassment? I mean, both parties were equally involved last night...

I wasn't quite sure what was going to happen but I planned on avoiding Nate like the Black Plague.

Except for that stupid dinner, of course. I had no control over that and I squirmed under the thought of being with Nate in that type of setting knowing he had power over me - power over my job, power over my thoughts, and power over my feelings.

I wasn't falling for him. I knew what liking someone entailed - hanging over their every word, waiting for their call, looking out for them in the streets or the hallways. At all costs, I wanted to do the complete opposite. But I couldn't deny that there was something between us. A tension that could only be described as infatuation. It's all physical. 

At least, I'm hoping it is.

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The next morning, I woke up ready to start the day. I successfully finished the first draft of my article titled "What's Your Fortune?". I cleverly described the history and origin about the creation of the first Chinese fortune cookie that took place in San Francisco back in 1914 (my interesting fact, if you can believe). I related it back to my life and proceeded to give a brief biography about myself. For a rookie article, I gave myself a pat on the back. It was good.

Feeling confident, I walked through the elevator doors and onto Forward territory, headed for my new desk. There, in the back corner next to the windows that overlooked Central Park, awaited my empty miniature white desk. It stood next to the mini-cubicle (with walls of, what else, glass) that belonged to my new manager.

From the packet, I discovered that her name was Sarah Wyatt. Through the power of the Internet, I had already scrolled through three of her photo albums on Facebook, learned that she had an obsession with collecting Band-Aids, and loved to write more than life itself. I'd read excerpts from her articles in Forward, one of them being, "How To Get Over Your Ex - Without Sex", and it really made me question my whole life. A bit dramatic, I know, but her writing was that good and it couldn't be a coincidence that it related all to well to my life. After about three hours of online stalking, I knew I already loved this woman.

Sarah was there to greet me and she looked unsurprisingly more beautiful in person than she did in pictures. She had curled her blonde hair and dusted gold eye shadow over her lids, which enhanced the blue in her eyes. Doing a complete head to toe scan of Sarah, I immediately concluded that she's the best-dressed person I've met. She posed in front of her cubicle wearing a loose fitting white blouse tucked into an olive green maxi skirt. Her manicure toes peeked out from the gladiator sandal strapped around her calves.

Here I was, in a crisp collared blouse and pencil skirt, struggling not to slip against the smooth laminated floor in four-inch heels. If you pushed us next to each other, it'd seem like we were working at opposite companies.

"Haley!" Her voice sounded smooth and tranquil as she extended her arms out inviting me in for a warm hug.

"Hi, Sarah!" I greeted her happily. I inhaled her rosy perfume that reminded me of a garden. She looked and smelled great. I could tell we were going to get along perfectly fine.