Then There's Wilbur

Chapter 21

Diana

"What do you mean she's on leave? She barely started working."

I bit my lip as my eyes roamed around the office. I came in today hoping things would at least go well for the first few hours. It wasn't like we had any deadlines, but for her to get a better feel of what it was like to work in our department, she actually had to be present. The employee who came in to hand in her reports looked uncomfortable as she looked at anything but where I was.

"She mentioned something about her honeymoon," she said, fixing her skirt on her seat.

It's not her fault, she's just saying what she knows.

I took a deep breath and nodded. She excused herself and I was left tapping a nail on the table. I had a talk with HR yesterday because apparently, although it wasn't a rule, having blue hair was somewhat unprofessional. I was given three days to at least dye it with colors she suggested . So I can either try getting it close to the color it was before, or dye it brown or anything darker. At this moment, I honestly would like to shave it all off, eyebrows included. Britney Spears must've had it hard back in 2007. My day continued with me constantly wincing whenever I remember planning something ridiculous as a wedding. Who would've thought that I would worry about cake toppers. Cake toppers of all things!

When working hours were over, I was ready to get a cold glass of beer. Maybe walk around the house with no pants on while belting some Celine Dion songs. I feel like I didn't have enough time to be sad about it. I kept running away from it, finding ways to distract myself. 

It was like one of those cartoons that I secretly watched when I was younger. That one scene where the character hides all the clutter in their room under a carpet or in a wardrobe. They stood in front of the carpet or pushed the door shut with a nervous smile on their face. It eventually explodes and all that's left is a big mess and them looking miserable and ashamed.

Why should I be ashamed? I didn't do anything wrong? It was a trial and error sort of thing. I knew what type of man Benedict was. I knew how he sees things. I thought I figured it all out. 

Now, the more I thought about it, the more annoyed I was. The more I hated how Benedict laughed at the most mediocre thing. My trail of thought was all over the place that I got to my apartment without any idea on how I got there.

I wish I was like one of those heroines that go on a trip, meet a nice guy with a dog and have this flirty banter about the most petty thing. I wanted it so bad. I wish moving on was as fast as the plot of a Christmas special episode. I wanted to have an ending under a lamplight, with my white jacket and brown scarf with the guy telling me he was so stupid to let me go.

I turned towards the door when I heard someone knocking.

"Shit," I whispered, quickly grabbing the pants that I wore just a while ago.

I opened the door wide enough for me to see who it was trying to reach out to me at eight in the evening.

"I'm sorry to bother you."

I looked down to see Tory nervously looking at me. I opened the door wider for her and looked down at the hallway. Wilbur was nowhere in sight. I took the bag she has on her arms and asked her to come inside.

"Not a bother at all," I pinched her cheek and made her sit on the sofa while sneakily taking the glass I drank my beer from.

"He's coming upstairs in a while and the security man on the first floor told me I could go straight ahead," she was swaying her feet as she looked at me. She looked anxious, probably waiting for the right moment to say whatever it was she wanted to say.