Breaking Free • TFC 2.0 • l.t. au

Chapter Forty Two

Today I've been assigned in the print room. Less stressful for me because I couldn't get any creative juice to use for the advertisement project. Eric called me off of the project. He thinks it's too big for me but really, it isn't. I'm just so distracted lately but if that's one way that I won't get fired, alright. I can't force myself to come up with something when nothing's coming out.

Yvette told me she'll find a new project for me to work on but at the moment, I'll be in the print room with Oliver. There's a new intern applying for the same job as Oliver's so he gave up his desk so Eric can get the intern trained. That's why we're both here, stacking up papers and filing them.

"Waldens is assigned for the new Harrod's commercial! Isn't that nice?" Oliver says, holding an open folder. We shouldn't be going through the documents intently but that's what Oliver's doing.

"Give that to me." I tell him. He chuckles and hands me the folder. I take the documents out of the folder and bind it in one massive folder.

"I love the print room," he says, putting more papers in the printer.

"you love the smell of spilled ink and sound of printers?" I ask, turning my back on him and file more documents in a separate binder. I nearly fell off my seat when he leans in close to my ear suddenly.

"You get to learn the company's dirty secrets," he steps back and throws his hands in the air, "It's a better job than monitoring the social medias if you ask me. Only, this pays less."

"You don't say." I reply to him sarcastically, making him laugh. The door swings open and a disoriented Carrie walks in.

"commercial documents?" she ask, looking around at the mess we just made. I stood up and put the massive folder in her waiting arms.

"Seriously?!" She says in amazement. She flips through the pages and gives me a look of amusement.

"Yeah, this company is thriving." I say sarcastically. She chuckles and closes the door behind her. I pull my sleeves up to my elbows before sitting down again and piling everything together.

The whole day was spent in Oliver's company. We were in the print room all day that he made jokes that he could go weeks without seeing my face. I'd throw crumpled paper at him when he makes a cheeky remark. When the guy in charge of the print room sees the mess we made, he went ballistic and sent us out. Now I understand why the company didn't put me in the printroom, or Oliver, for that matter.

The end of the day, Oliver went back to the computer room while I went to me desk. It only took me that moment to realize I skipped lunch when my stomach made a loud grumbling noise. It's almost 5:30PM on the clock on my desk. I should've been out an hour ago. I stopped by the cafeteria to get a sandwich and a bottle of orange juice.

If my doctor finds out I've been skipping meals, she wouldn't approve of it. But I do make it up whenever I get the chance to eat. I'm just so used to skipping lunch ever since I worked at walden's or at least ate late. I usually wait for my stomach to make a sound before I eat and it's difficult to get out of that habit.

After I finished my light snack, I went to the lobby to prepare myself to go home. I'm not that worried anymore because Louis' usually not yet home when I am. I know running away from my problems is not the best thing to do. That's all I've ever done as a teen and I dont want this to go on any further into my adulthood.

I run into Oliver on the way to the lobby. The two of us sit on the sofa and chat, waiting for the storm to cease. It's pourin outside and although it's only 5:30, it's already dark out and the bus stop is a few miles away. But no way am I going to walk under the rain like a troubled soap opera actress.