ONE MORE TIME - brallon drabbles

every day was the same...

// Working in an office from eight to five for five days a week can get dull, that's the case for Dallon Weekes. He's been typing up reports for three years, maybe, he's lost count. Then on a Monday, there's a new guy moving into the cubicle in front of him. And he thinks that this new guy might like him. Maybe more than friends. //

"I heard he's really hot."

"Oh? I've heard that the guy can be a nuisance."

"Someone told me that he's a little young to be stuck in this hell."

These are a few rumors about the new employee who'll replace the old one. I don't care much for the new guy and the fuss about him is getting old now.

People at the office have been talking about this guy for weeks. Maybe two...or three. I don't know. If I can't keep the number of years I've worked here, then, how am I suppose to know?

Currently, as I listen to Linda speak to Janice about the new guy, I'm seated in my cubicle. This square space is one of the many and I say, many few perks of working for a company.

It's like your own little world until the person behind you pops out of nowhere to ask you when the paper's due.

Apparently, the talk about this guy is increasing recently. I suppose it's because there's word about him arriving today.

Nonetheless on a Monday.

He better not be annoying or I am throwing myself into the glass windows.

Mondays aren't really anyone's strong point, I think. Everyone hates Monday, okay, well, most people. Monday starts off the week, it reminds you that you have a whole week to do the same routine over and over again. That's a sickening thought.

"Hey, Dallon," a familiar voice calls me. "New kid's coming at nine, you better get used to him." Spencer, friend slash co-worker, tells me.

"Why do I have to get 'used' to him? It's not like he's sitting—"I stop speaking when he raises his eyebrows with a smile. "He's sitting right in front of me, isn't he?"

"Mhm, I'm sure you'll be fine, though. You're a quiet guy. I'm sure he won't even speak a word to you." Spencer snickers.

"Did you just call me anti-social?"

"Where am I wrong, Dallon?" He remarks as he walks away to the printer.

"Asshole." The words come out of my mouth in a tone of quiet.

My eyes dart to the clock that lay on the corner of my computer screen. It's 8:30 a.m. Thirty minutes into work and I'm already dealing with the new guy or about to.

•••

The workplace begins to get louder and that's odd. This place suddenly holds this vivid and lively atmosphere. Usually, there's this air of gray floating around. Around me, the conversations begin to buzz.

"Linda, Linda, I got a peek of that guy downstairs and damn, he's pretty flipping hot." She informs, sounding breathless.

"Really? I'm not going to believe you just yet." Linda goes back to her work indicated by the typing of her keys.

Everyone seems to stop, even me, when the elevator dings. The elevator is right in my direction of vision, so, all I have to is look up. The metal doors open up and there's a guy who's shorter than me with tucked in button-up and combed black hair. 

Not going to lie, he does have the looks.

"Janice, I take back what I just said. He's fucking drop-dead gorgeous." Around me, everyone's whispering one another as the guy walks towards the empty cubicle in front of me. I could see him look up and down from a piece of paper, trying to find his way around.