Take it Or Leave it

Prologue

All my life, I dreamed of getting a scholarship to one of the most famous fashion universities. I dreamed of having my own clothing line and seeing every girl wearing my clothes. I dreamed of running my own clothing business; having my own clothing company. I dreamed of having my face on a billboard for millions to see as they're driving by. I dreamed of making money, and attending parties with the most respected fashion designers in the industry. I dreamed of models modeling the clothes I designed. I have dreams and just like everyone else in this cold world, I have to work my ass off to achieve these so called "fantasies".

But that will all have to wait. Who knew going out for some yogurt with your best friend can turn into a nightmare within 10 seconds. I sure as hell didn't. If I would've known that this would be the consequence of my accidental action, I would have stayed home. Sitting on my couch and stuffing my face with barbecue chips and a big bottle of Mountain Dew. Maybe my dreams wouldn't have to wait. And maybe I wouldn't have to deal with this arrogant piece of sh-

"Emily, did you fax those papers over to Boston like I had asked you to over an hour ago?" Luca asked, his annoyed expression clearly visible.

"Lazy ass," I mumbled under my breath.

"What was that?"

I cursed under my breath when I noticed he heard. I looked up from the papers on my desk and plastered on a fake smile.

"I said I will get right on it."

A smirk appeared on his face and I fought back the urge to walk over to him and smack it off.

"That's what I thought," he said all while the smirk was still on his face.

I glared at him and thought of the many ways I could end his arrogant character. I waited 'til he was completely out of my mini room that he likes to call an office before I gave him the finger.

I pushed my hair back and sighed before getting up from the chair. I grabbed the papers I'm supposed to fax to Boston with a little too much force and then regretting doing so when I felt a sting coming from the skin between my thumb and pointer finger. I saw the cut fill with blood and groaned.

"Damn paper cuts," I muttered. I put the spot where I cut my hand in my mouth and sucked on the cut to get rid of the blood. I limped to the fax machine, mumbling an "ow" every time I took another step. The one thing I always gave girls credit for was if they can wear heels.

My feet were already blistered, bruised and bleeding and I wouldn't be surprised if my feet gave out any second now. Every time I wear heels, I regret them as soon as I walk out of my house and get in my car. So a total of 30 seconds and a few steps after putting them on. I don't know how girls can run in horror movies with heels on. Like I would fall on my ass and be dead within the first 2 seconds of the movie.

Beauty is pain. But in this case, I wasn't trying to impress anyone. Part of this deal was to have to dress professional considering I have to work at this "very well known and respected business." Well according to Luca, he has people who know people, who know people, who know people. If you get what I'm saying. So he can't have-and I quote- "a sloppy 18 year old who doesn't know red from pink. I don't need a walking embarrassment to embarrass me. This is a high end business. Everyone in this world wishes they can step foot into this building. Let alone my office. You should be very lucky that you even get to breathe the same air I'm breathing right now."

If he wasn't my boss for the time being and I didn't have to pay off my debt to him, I think I would have had a long stream of colorful words and sentences escaping my mouth. Of course I know red from pink. I draw clothes in my free time for Gods sake. I wake up an extra hour earlier than necessary for school just so I can pick out the right outfit.