Autumn Leaves & Pumpkins Please

five | the fiercy assistant

           
october 16th
london, england

MY HEADACHE HAD THE AUDACITY TO WAKE ME UP. It took me a few seconds to realize where I exactly was, but then I remembered things. There I was, lying in that overpriced, spherical platform bed with an out-of-my-league male right beside me, regretting all of my stupid life-choices. I carefully switched sides so I could look at him. His eyes were closed and dark hair all messy which I expected, because he slept like a spastic dog; turning over, back, one leg over my whole body and depriving oxygen, and so on. But the sight of him being in such a peaceful state was awe-worthy. On the other hand was I about to jump out of the window. I couldn't believe I gave myself away like that to a man who probably did this every weekend, I couldn't believe my last tiny bit of dignity had deceased.

Suddenly he pursed his lips and blew into my face. That was shocking enough, but when he opened his mouth and started talking, I couldn't help but let out a high-pitched squeal.

            "Get me a coffee- Jesus fuck," he quickly covered my mouth with his hand without opening his eyes, "you can't just earrape people like that."

There was no denying, his British morning voice was so hot and almost made me want more sex with him.

            "Sworwy," I mumbled into his hand.

            "Just get me a coffee and some aspirins, will you?"

It wasn't a request, it was an order. I frowned my brows at him and pushed his hand off my face.

            "Who the hell do you think I am?"

His eyeballs started to move under his eyelids where after he finally opened them.

            "My assistant. I pay you to bring me coffee, remember?" He yawned and stretched his arms.

That made me feel... some type of way. For some reason my stupid drunk alter ego – let's name her Becky – thought I was the only one he had slept with, but that obviously wasn't true. Of course this vainglorious writer had an assistant to fuck whenever he felt like it and of course that assistant agreed, because she must've been as stupid as me. I felt ashamed of myself and didn't know whether I wanted to throw myself out of the window or him.

His reaction left me speechless. He did not have the capacity to distinguish me from his fucking assistant. He had treated me that whole night as if I was special, 'something else' as he kept telling me, but in the end I wasn't even someone – I was something he'd make use of and then throw away.

Becky definitely was a snake for making me have sex with him.

The bare, famous writer beside me groaned, rubbed his eyes and then looked me dead in the eyes.

            "What are you waiting for?"

            "I'm not your fucking assistant!" The only thing I could do was throw a pillow at his face. Really pathetic.

            "Wait," he removed the pillow from his face and fixated his hair, "what's your name again then?"

            "Oh, fuck you Xavier Montgomery!"

And that was when I punched him in the face. My action left a red print of my hand on his right cheek which made me gasp a little. I had never known I could smack someone that hard, but I sure was proud of the unpredicted power I had in me. Deep inside I wanted to apologize, but on the other hand did he really deserve it. He looked at me quite shocked at first, but then began to grin. It took approximately half a second for me to decide that I would run out of his apartment, so I basically jumped into my dress, fixated my messy hair a bit and struggled towards the elevator in my way too high heels. Blisters on my feet were about to explode.