red velvet room (m.j.)

Chapter I

A/N: guys, I've never been or know the streets of New York that well, so if there is something that I said that sounded incorrect, now you know. Enjoy - Alex xoxo

"Where's my latte?"

***

Samantha

Almost every morning was rush hour time. Getting up later than what you set your alarm for, having five minute hot showers, digging through dirty laundry to find the cutest outfit whilst drying your oily-looking self from the shower. And let's not forget about breakfast, and not because it's the 'most important meal of the day'. You just know that you will need to eat, regardless of the time in a day, so why not munch on something now when you have a chance?

"Kare?" I called for my roomate's name with the loose strands of my messy bun greeting my worn out face, and it hasn't hit 10 a.m. yet.

A freshly woken up Karen shuffled out of her dark chamber with her chestnut brown hair sticking out in all directions. I immediately felt bad for forcing her to get up early on her day off.

"Yeah?"

"Where the hell are my shoes?" I asked her, stress boiling up in my slightly dampened temples. "I couldn't find them anywhere."

"Why don't you wear your Converse?" She pointed to my pair that sat close to the front door of our apartment casually, like it was the easiest problem to ever be solved.

"Really?" I protested whilst bending down to pick up my only dirty, probably smelly pair of black sneakers. "This is what you want me to wear for my interview?"

"At least it looks nice with what you got," she said, yawing and picking out the sleep in her eyes with her fingers. I looked down at my attire and I had to decipher whether my black Converse shoes would still look sophisticated with my matching black blazer and skinny pants or not.

"Seriously? I'm supposed to look professional and interested, not uninterested," I argued.

Karen rolled her eyes and told me before she left for her room, "I don't know, it's your call. Either look for your heels and be late for your interview, or wear the damn shoes and get going 'cause sleep is still calling for my name at the moment."

I shook my head from her 'not-giving-a-shit' attitude, but I knew she didn't really mean that, she's like a sister to me. A sister from another mother.

Without wasting much time, I put on my Converse shoes, grabbed a granola bar and my recently bought Coach bag (it was a birthday present given to me by my mother recently), before snatching a spare key from the hook and heading down the stairs for my awaited ride.

As I jogged down the polished stairs and I spotted our good old neighbour, Mr Thompson carrying what seemed to be a brand new tree to add into his garden.

"Good morning Mr Thompson," I greeted with a genuine smile.

"Ah, good morning Ms Grigio, where are you up to this early for you young lot?" He responded in his thick British accent. Mr Thompson was originally from Yorkshire.

"I'm actually on my way to an interview—for an internship, you know?"

"An internship? Ah, that's a new chapter waitin' to happen ain't nit?"

I forced a small laugh, "I hope so."

"Well, I should get you goin'. Good luck dear."

"Thank you so much Mr Thompson," I said before heading my way further down the staircase, "and enjoy your new plant!" I called out from behind my back as I ran down.