Personal assistant

Keep it in check

"Come on Rupert, help me out here, am I a shit person?"

"Honey, you're asking the guy who had no issue dropping a date by judgement from a tinder bio."

"Fair point, but Del is the sweetest, I can't just drop her."

"Well there's the answer. You're not a shit person, because you won't drop her."

"I kind of want to though," I mumbled and he let out a peal of laughter. I pushed him in response, but couldn't help laughing along with him, this situation was so unreal. Who can say they've been caught in a love triangle between their colleague and their boss? 

"As much as I would love to help, I think you know only you can make the decision."

 "Alright Gandalf, I'm not sure I like this ability of yours to see right through me."

"Go finish your work, it will take your mind off things ok? Fia's probably wondering where you are anyway," he pointed out, turning his wrist to look at his watch.

"Oh crap yeah, guess I was trying a little too hard to forget about her," I mumbled as I ran off, saying goodbye hastily.

I entered quickly without knocking this time, anxious to see if she would be angry or not. Once again, not even a look of acknowledgement. I sat down loudly, like I did the last time we argued and heard a stifled laugh come from her direction.

"What," I grumped, searching her face.

"You're so dramatic, what did you want, a rise out of me?"

"What are you talking about?" I scoffed, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

She turned in her chair to face me properly, looking amused.

"Is it necessary to slam into my office chair every time you're a little miffed at me?"

"Yes," I replied defensively, leaning forward and shuffling through my mountain of work.

"Surely I should be the peeved one, since it looks like you'll be staying overtime with that mass in front of you."

She pointed to the high pile and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah you're right. how dare I offer myself for overtime," I said sarcastically, shaking the pen I was holding to create ink flow.

Her entertained manner never left her face as she watched me furiously scribble my work down. 

"I didn't picture you for a moody hungover, what's gotten into you?" She questioned teasingly, but I was still mad at her, so my humour was less light-hearted compared to hers.

"I didn't picture you for a retrograde amnesiac," I dug, and she looked surprised.

After a moments silence, she shrugged, brushing off my biting attitude.

"Not an amnesiac, just being professional."

"What, and I'm not?"

She looked me up and down, a sarcastic expression plastered across her face.

"You're hungover, have breadcrumbs on your shirt and a burn on your hand."

"And?" I replied defensively, not realising she noticed my clumsy coffee spill.

She sighed, giving up trying to reason with me, and walked out the room. She came back in with a first aid kit and pulled some ointment out. I watched her warily, unsure of what she was doing. She held out her hand expectantly and I nervously placed my burnt hand in hers. Sofia's appearance wasn't caring, but her actions gave her true feelings away. Her brow may have been furrowed with concentration and callous, but those soft fingers massaged the cool gel into my burn so, so gently. I relaxed, and enjoyed the soothing sensation. I didn't realise how much the burn had been bothering me until I felt the coolness on my skin. 

I missed her when she was like this, but it was reassuring enough to know my feelings weren't one sided. She screwed the cap back on the gel tube, placing my hand onto my paperwork in a tender but pointed manner. She placed her fingertips on my desk and slowly leaned over it, nearing my ear. My heart rate quickened at how close she was to me, and I widened my eyes, too nervous to move.

"Get on with your work, drama queen," She breathed out, and I nearly grabbed her right there and then. I wanted so bad to experience what I felt last night again, but sober this time. Before I could act upon my thoughts, she stood up and merely walked back to her desk, acting like nothing had happened. It was torture, watching her so easily switch her emotions on and off like that. I suppose that was what made her a good businesswoman, I thought, finally getting on with the rest of my work.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"No."

The stubborn, dark brunette refused my request to leave at normal time. I mean sure, I hadn't finished my paperwork, but I could catch it up another time, I was ready to drop and had worked really hard for the past 4 hours.

"Seriously?" I questioned, my eyelids feeling heavier and heavier.

She looked up innocently, unfazed by my irritability. 

"Yeah, I told you I want it finished."

"Sofia, I don't think I can, can't I just hand it in another day?" I mumbled weakly. 

 It was nearing 8:00PM, and I was still hungover and running on less than 3 hours sleep. The room was hot and stuffy, filled with recycled air from no open window, and suddenly I didn't feel so good. Something was wrong. I could see her, but everything else in my peripheral vision was fuzzy. I didn't say anything though, and tried to walk back to my desk, because the quicker I finished work, the quicker I could sleep.

Urgh, Jesus sleep. My legs didn't move, and she looked up, wondering why I was still stood in front of her. Her expression changed from unimpressed to worried, and she frowned, opening her mouth to say something. Her words echoed around my head with no meaning, and I could feel my stance beginning to wobble. I didn't care, I was exhausted and just wanted release. If that meant not finishing work, then so be it. 

I blinked once, and heard a hollow squeak as her chair swivelled round, catapulting her out of it. Blood was roaring in my ears erratically, and I watched her determined manner make a lunge towards me. Everything was in slow motion, but I could still tell how swift she was from the steadying grip on my arms before I could blink again. Her bangs hung low over her fretful eyes and she shook her head impatiently, flicking them deftly out her vision. 

Despite my ever falling consciousness, I couldn't help but smile. She was worried about me, and she lifted her palm to my forehead to feel the temperature, still holding me up with her other arm which was now snaked round my waist. I wanted to stay awake in this moment, but I felt myself slipping away. I knew I was safe, and so wrapped myself in the warm scented vanilla as I rested my head on her shoulder, finally fading out. The last thing I remembered was my legs giving out underneath me, but I knew that as long as she had me, I would never hit the floor.