Chapter 1
Anne’s P.O.V.
I felt it as my back was slammed against the elevator wall. The guy was trailing kisses down my neck and I loved it. He was totally my type. Tall and lanky, with tattoos all over him. His arms were muscular and had sleeves. His hair was cut short around his face but it just showed off his amazing cheekbones.
I felt his hands grab my ass and squeeze. I slid my hands from his lower abdomen up to cup his neck. He was kissing all over my neck and collarbones. Then my phone rang. Being a journalist, I knew to never, ever let a call go to voicemail. I was supposed to be ready at all times to pack up or be called in. I shoved him away with a flirtatious, promising look and answered my phone.
“Anne! Hey, sweets! Where are you?”
“George? I’m in the elevator at my apartment.”
“Thanks for leaving me at the club, sis. I guess I just won’t tell you who I was able to score an interview with for you.”
“Wait, what? George, I’m so, so, so sorry. Please tell me?”
“Well, since I’m such a good brother, I’ll tell you. You know that band One Direction?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Yeah, well, since I am such good friends with Simon Cowell and their management, I pulled a few strings for my dearest sister and you’re set to interview them next Friday.”
“Really? Oh, George, thank you! I’m so excited! If that interview goes well, I will so get a promotion. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love you!”
“You’re welcome,” he says laughing. “Now I need to call Thomas to come pick me up, so bye.”
“Bye! I love you!”
“Love you too.”
I hung up and looked over at the guy. He was knocked out, snoring while leaning against a wall. I rolled my eyes. Men.
●●●
I woke up the next day, bored. I sighed and rolled over to look at my clock. It was a couple hours from noon. I slid out of my huge bed and dragged myself to my huge kitchen.
I put on Of Mice and Men to listen to while I cooked. A half-hour later, I was all set to eat- two hardboiled eggs, two strips of bacon, a cup of milk, orange juice, and peppermint tea, and two pieces of toast, one slathered with Nutella, and the other with mozzarella cheese.
I sat down on my couch and put on the news, scarfing down my breakfast. Man, my life was boring on weekend mornings. I cooked, ate, and watched the news. I wanted a boyfriend; I wanted someone to have to avert my attention and give me some attention. But NYC was a hard place to find good boyfriends.
My phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and smiled. “George! How’s your hangover?”
“Miserable. If it wasn’t for Thomas, I’d kill myself.”
“You’re welcome!” I heard him yell.
“Thank you, honey!” He called back sarcastically. “Anyway, Thomas, Francis, and I are going to an art function in a couple hours. You in?”
“Seeing as how all I was going to do today was read a book about feminism and then nap, yes. I would love to go to some cheesy art thing.”
“Great! I can’t wait, Little Miss Sarcastic. I’ll see you in half an hour.”
I threw my phone down on the other side of the couch. “Man, I really should get dressed.” I blew out a gust of air. “Yep.”
A couple of minutes later, I eventually stood up and made my way to my bedroom. I wasn’t into doing anything with my hair, so I just let it fall free down my back to my waist. I pulled on a scarlet red tee and a black leather skirt. I tied up my white Doc Marten’s and put on my favorite necklace, given to me from George- it was a gold ‘A’ pendant with rubies in it that hung on a gold chain. I put on mascara and smudged on black eyeliner.
