End of the Day [H.S]

Chapter Two

The tall glass doors I have become accustomed to over the past few years seem much less intimidating than the first few times I entered through them.

When I walked in for my interview, I put on a facade that I wasn't the least bit nervous or scared, when in reality I was basically shitting my pants. I wanted to seem confident and like I deserved this position, even when all I had in my head was self-doubt.

In high school, all I heard was everyone talking about going to the state school that was fifteen minutes away, graduating, marrying their high school sweetheart and raising a family on the Cape.

That was the last thing I wanted to do.

Since I could remember, all I've ever wanted was to leave my hometown and escape the forsaken curse that I felt captured the entirety of the borders around me. I wanted to be different and make something of myself, instead of tending to my husband when he got home from work like every other woman I grew up around. When I saw how my family ended up, I knew that life wasn't for me.

Walking through the threshold of the building gave me a sense of comfort, like I belonged somewhere that wasn't under a roof only my husband provided for. It made me feel like I meant something, even if it was just being an assistant to the main photographer of the company.

Rebekah, the front desk receptionist, greeted me with her warm smile as I walked in. Her golden curls falling sweetly across her slim frame and her glasses giving her a touch of professionalism.

I smiled back with a small wave, making my way to the wall of elevators. I blindly reached my hand to press the up button, when my fingers made contact with ones that were much longer and masculine than mine, but with chipped black nail polish littering each finger and a cross tattoo between their thumb and forefinger.

I quickly retracted my hand and mumbling a sorry, without looking at the person I awkwardly brushed hands with.

A deep chuckle came from my left, making my head snap up.

My eyes were met with those of the man I had just briefly come in contact with, except his were covered with dark RayBan sunglasses. Confusing, being that we're inside.

I didn't want to seem like I was staring, so I quickly snapped my head back to the elevator doors. Jesus, they were taking long. The only thing I made out of my short gaze of the stranger was the delicate coffee colored ringlets that brushed across his forehead and a lazy smirk on his face.

After what felt like centuries, the bell dinged above the center elevator signaling that I would soon be in the comfort of my office.

I look over at the mystery man next to me who already has the same hand out that I've touched, gesturing for me to go first into the small space. Jesus fucking Christ, that may be one of the most attractive men I've ever fucking seen.

I give him a polite smile and make my way into the elevator with him trailing behind me. I can basically feel the confidence seeping out of him. Although I haven't had a good look at this man, I can just tell he's attractive and he knows it. Well at this point I know it too.

I click the button for the 21st floor, then looking over at him for the second time today. "What floor?"

"Same one." He speaks his first words to me. I've heard many different accents since working in this office, many more than I did in Massechusetts, but his is probably the thickest British accent I've ever heard.

I give a nod and look away, not wanting to make conversation with someone I'm assuming is a model for today. Elenor, the executive administrator of photography has always said not to distract the models coming in so they can focus on getting the best shots for the magazine. Although I've never really had a problem with stepping on people's toes at work, I definitely do now. In the beginning I had to keep reminding myself that I'm not working at Dairy Queen anymore, I'm working at Vogue.