"Do you have anything for a cold?" I ask the pharmacist who stands behind the counter.
She runs to the back to check, before coming back up to the front, a bottle with liquid medicine in her hand.
I pay for this along with chicken soup, a thermometer, and some blankets.
I walk out of the store in a rush, and I begin my walk down the street on the sidewalks.
"I knew he'd get sick," I mumble to myself. "I knew it."
I carry all of my items to a bus station, and I eventually carry them onto the bus, paying my travel fee.
I ride for a couple of minutes until I get off at my stop.
Drake lives in one of the fanciest hotels in the city, a five star place that's relatively close to the office.
Hotel management are always bustling here, and and everyone is always nice.
The floors are marble that's polished to a shine, and there are many decorative pieces here: furniture, plants, vases, you name it.
I hop inside the elevator by myself, and I look at the room numbers.
"Room 302 should be on the third floor," I talk to myself as I press the gold button with the number three on it.
Thank goodness I looked at everyone's files when I got the job. I'd be completely lost trying to find his place if I hadn't had looked.
The elevator dings, and I walk out when the doors open. The hallway floors are a lush, patterned carpet, and there are also several paintings of famous artworks on the walls.
Who would have thought he'd live in a fancy place like this?
My feet stop themselves when I reach room number 302. I stand outside the door, contemplating on ringing the doorbell.
My heart has started to pick up it's pace now, and I have to remind myself to relax.
"I'm just paying him back for letting me use his hoodie," I remind myself. "Every thing is all good. This shouldn't be awkward, and I shouldn't make it awkward."
My index finger presses lightly on the bell, and I wait a couple of seconds. There's absolute silence.
Did he hear it? Should I ring again?
My finger is about to press the button again, when the door swings open.
A pale looking Drake stands before me, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His hair is even more disheveled, and there are bags under his eyes.
He has a pair of blue pajamas on, that have little moons all over them.
"What are you doing here?" His voice is hoarse, and I walk into the doorframe.
"Let me in," I order, pushing him backwards.
"Hey, you can't just come into my house," I push him enough so that I can walk directly into his living room.
His house is really clean, and I examine my surroundings quickly.
There's a couch with a flat-screen and coffee table in front of it, bookshelves with various books on them, and just some little decorations here and there.
I walk and sit my bags on the coffee table, then turn my attention to Drake, who still stands in front of the now closed door.
"Come here," I walk over towards him and link my arm with his.
YOU ARE READING
The Assistant
Teen Fiction[COMPLETE] Eighteen year old Hana Jett is fresh out of high school and ready to inherit her father's video game company, BrixWorks. She's smart, blunt, and ready to take on anything that comes her way. Enter Drake Bardot, a twenty-four year old who...