One-Shot Friendship for Dummies Contest

"Crap, I'm running late!"

As I sprinted towards the office building, my black stiletto (or should I say cheap deathtrap) slipped on the back turf, propelling me headfirst onto the sidewalk. My eyes flickered around my surroundings, and luckily for me, the commotion in the busy streets of New York hid my humiliating accident.

Brushing the imaginary dirt off of my new heather gray suit, I inspected my garments for any gashes. It looked like a minute scrape had appeared on my right knee, but other than that, my clothing was still intact. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, and I strutted into the business firm, along with hundreds of other hopeful applicants.

The building hindered me speechless. Everything was made out of glass, including the tabletops and staircases. Workers, dressed formally in suits and ties, marched simultaneously in all different directions. At first, the fact that the office was swarming with so many people intimidated me. My shoulders involuntarily hunched forward; sweat began pooling on my hands. My feet even threatened to propel me towards the exit, but Connor's reassuring words from this morning halted them.

C'mon, Georgie. Get some balls and fight for your dream job. Or if you're too chicken, then have fun working at McDonald's on 10th Street, babe.

Okay, maybe what he said wasn't reassuring, but it did help me to rally on. 

In the corner of my eye, I spotted an open elevator, and I slithered through the crowd to get to it. If I didn't get to the boss' work place in five minutes, they most certainly would refuse to interview me. As my body awkwardly collided into others, I received a countless number of disapproving looks and comments. For some reason, they did not faze me, and my foot stepped into the glass elevator right before the door closed.

Unfortunately, most of the men and women in this tiny box probably never heard of deodorant. The combined smell of perfume and body odor almost sent me over the edge, but I managed to exit onto the correct floor before my oatmeal was spewed all over the place. I had been puking my guts out for the entire week, and I prayed last night that I wouldn't vomit in front of the boss today.

With a fake ear-to-ear smile plastered on my face, I stepped into the receptionist office approximately two minutes before my interview. The smile quickly disappeared when a familiar face came into my vision.

Charlotte Hayes was sitting in one of the seats.

Charlotte immediately noticed me and shot me daggers. Sadly, the only seat available was the one next to her, so I slumped over to the red chair and crossed my arms below my chest. Of course she would decide to apply for a job at this business firm, out thousands located all across the country.

I hadn't even heard from her since our high school graduation. Apparently, Charlotte had been married and divorced three times; her newest divorcee was a Kennedy. Despite the fact that her nose seemed to slim down a few centimeters, her appearance didn't change much. Her dark brown hair was in a tight pony tail, and she was wearing her signature coral lip gloss and peep-toe black pumps. 

"So, I heard you married Connor," she said as her fingers tapped away at her white iPhone.

Gulping, I replied, "Yeah, we've been married almost a year now. We moved to New York two months ago."

A smirk slithered up the evil bitch's face. "I know; I heard about it. You must've heard about my wedding."

My eyes rolled, and grimacing, my head nodded back and forth. Charlotte's lips smacked as a piece of gum was thrown into her large mouth. She must've noticed my discomfort because she continued on. "I see that you don't have a diamond on your ring. Connor's not doing too well financially, huh?"