Times - h.s.

The LA Times

"Alex." Brin whispered into my ear.

I was well aware that it was time for me to get out of bed, but after cautiously opening one eye and glancing at the clock that read 8:30, I didn't want to.

"Alex..." She persisted.

I admired that this girl was always so responsible, but I hated that she pushed it on me. I yanked the blanket stuck under her arm and pulled it over my head.

With a sudden jerk, the blanket was tossed aside and Brin's voice was raised as she shouted, "ALEXA!"

I barely had enough time to sit up before she was pushing the curtains aside and the sun cast in.

"Dude, you couldn't have waited like, 15 more minutes?"

"You were supposed to get out of bed at 8. No, I couldn't have waited '15 more minutes'!" She mocked.

"This is the day, Alex, the big important day. I'm not about to have you screw this up over fif-fucking-teen small minutes."

I rolled my eyes and slouched back on the bed, knowing well that she was right. This day was important for me. I had finally landed an interview for the first time in months with the Editor-in-chief of the LA Times. How many times does an opportunity like that come around? The answer is once, and if it were not for Brin's incessant nagging about me getting out of bed at this very instant then I'm pretty sure I would already have blown it.

"Okay, okay! I'm going! You can stop flicking me now!" I yelled, swatting at her fingers as they attacked my ears.

I rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I closed my mirror, I looked up into it only to be met with the most horrific sight on my neck.

"Brin!" I shrieked in horror, moving my hair to the side for a clear view of the massive bruise right smack dab on my collar bone.

"What?" Brin asked, popping her head in. I pointed at the ugly thing, and her eyes widened with sudden realization.

"Jesus, Alexa! What the hell even happened last night after I left with Jace? Never mind that, what the hell are we gonna do about this?"

The morning was off to a great start.

Her eyes narrowed at me as she said, "Don't think I'm going to forget to ask about this."

After minutes spent on covering the hickey on my neck that was the size of Mars, Brin went to go get coffee and I was left stuck in my closet trying to pick out the perfect outfit to wear. I didn't want it to scream, "I just love pencils and books and things!", but I also didn't want it to say, "I can be your assistant for many, many things."

Settling on a blue and white striped button up and some black jeans, I tossed them aside and I pulled out my phone to check the interview slot. My heart dropped when I looked at the time, and then checked my clock. I had less than 30 minutes to get my feet out the door and into my car to make it to the office.

Just as I was fumbling with my curling iron, Brin returned with two cups in her hand.

"Oh my god, give me that thing," she sighed, placing the cups on the dresser and snatching the iron from my hands.

"I'm stressed, Brin. I don't know what to say to them. And, like, do I make eye contact? If I do, do I gaze at them or bore my eyes into their soul?" I asked, in all seriousness. Brin chuckled, placing down the iron and turning me to face her.

"You'll say what comes to you, and you will not stare into their soul. You're gonna do what you do best, Alexa. You're gonna be you, and you're gonna be just fine." She smiled.