Folding the page of the manuscript I have to read this week, I clean up my desk, grab my bag and head out for the day. I have been waiting anxiously for the day to end so I can go home and relax the night away.
Last night I hadn't slept a wink, I was in revision mode, working from the moment I stepped through my door all the way until the sun winked at me from its place in the sky. I didn't eat, take a shower, I didn't even bother to change out of the clothes I had worn that day. I had to work and get it done. When eleven o'clock came around, I was on campus, ready to hand in my second draft. I made all the corrections he told me about and added a couple more chapters that I also spent the night revising. I was adding a lot into this book that may go nowhere, but I had to give it - give me - a fair shot or I would regret it for the rest of my life.
He was pleased when I handed him my work, surprised when mentioned some new chapters. I was doing everything I could to give him and the editor a sneak peek into my book that would correctly illustrate how the rest of the novel would go.
"You have great ambition, Rose. I have never seen a student as hardworking or determined as you. If you keep this up, this book will be a success, I have no doubt about it," his words replay in my head. My smile was too big for my face to cater, all my teeth were showing. I must have looked creepy, but I was so relieved and happy that I didn't exactly know how to express the magnitude of what I was feeling.
I left his office feeling invincible; I was on top of the world. All hail Queen Rose.
The ding of the elevator pries me from my thoughts. Stepping in, I think of a movie I recently saw, the male character pushes the girl against the side of the elevator and kisses her mercilessly; it was as if the atmosphere, the pull of the elevator put them both in a frenzied trance of hormones, desire, and lust. I can only hope I will be able to do that one day.
The elevator stops at another floor. A girl around my age steps in, glasses perched on her nose, long chocolate brown here tied into a bun on top of her head, and light green eyes that hold a hint of mischief in them. Stacks of papers fill up her dainty arms. She mutters something about finding a new career. I wonder if Damon ever thought about starting a new career, a new life. After everything that he has been through with his family's company, wouldn't he be scared of the risks he would have to take when he officially claims his rightful spot as heir?
We reach the ground floor and she steps out first, dropping papers from the top of her stack. She mutters a curse and attempts to get them from the ground without upsetting the balance of the rest still in her overpacked arms.
"Let me get that for you," I offer, already starting to pick them up. She must be from finance, numbers are scribbled all over the sheets.
"Thank you," she lets out a sigh, "my name is Amelia, I'm from finance."
"Hi, Amelia. I'm Rose from the editorial department. Do you need any help carrying the papers to wherever you're going? I'm about to go home so I have plenty of time to spare."
She hesitates before she says "yes, please."
Picking up the rest from the floor, I stack them nealy in my hands, taking care not to smudge any of the numbers on the page. I follow her down a hallway, to the printer perhaps, and into another room that I have never visited before.
"This is where all the financial records are stored. The day is over so I have to add all these to a tiny binder so they can put it into the encrypted system on the computer. It seems like a waste of time to do it on paper just to put it in the machine, but they pay me to do it so I won't complain. Much."
I laugh at her honesty. It does seem to be a waste, but what do I know? A computer can only see records of what people buy and the hot new thing, but it can't detect whether books will have potential or not based on the overall content in the book.
"I can't say that I relate, but, hey, as long as you get a paycheck who cares, right?"
"Cheers to that!" She says, putting her hand in the air in a mock cheers.
"Are you an employee or an intern here, if you don't mind me asking,"
"Just an intern, my university offers programs here. The location is great too, not too far from where I study."
"Really? My college offers a program here too! Since there aren't any others around us, we must be talking about the same one!"
"Look at us overachievers! We should be getting drunk and yet we already have a job and slave away all day!"
"I was never much of a party girl, only been to two. How about you?"
"That's it! This weekend, we are going out! It will be so great. You're over 21? Forget I asked, you must be. I know this great club a little bit away from here, but I know the owner. Free drinks, girl! It will be great. What do you say?"
I hesitate before I answer. I don't know this girl. Could it be one of the people that the boys warned me about? She does seem genuine and I love her spunky attitude. Maybe I can tell them where I will be and if anything goes wrong they will be able to find me. Plus, I will be with her the whole night.
What if another guy tries to hurt you similar to the party?
My lips frown. Looking at the girl in front of me, she seems small, but her personality is big. I don't think she will have a problem standing up for the both of us, if need be. Besides, lugging around stacks of paper all day must be good for her muscles.
Before I talk myself out of my decision, "yes, I would love to" passes my lips and into the air.
"Great! I can pick you up from your place Friday night at 8. How does that sound?"
She's going to know where I live? It might not be too bad of an idea. The guy can meet her. Judge her character.
"Okay, perfect. Can I have your phone to put my number in? I'll text you my address."
Reaching in her pocket, she takes out the long black device, big enough to be a mini-tablet. I watch as she unlocks it with her thumb before searching for the contacts icon. Flipping her phone around so I can take it, I quickly enter my name and the ten digits of my phone number. Texting myself the address so I have her number as well.
"Thanks. I texted the address to my phone so I had your number. I'm going to call it a night, it's been a busy couple of days," I let out a breathy laugh, "and I really just want to go home and sleep the rest of the year away."
"I'm about to leave too. Want to walk out together?"
"That sounds great. Do you have to grab anything from upstairs?"
"Only a few things. Want to come see my office?" She asks, winking exaggeratedly.
"Why, of course! Did you remember to bring the handcuffs?" I joke, watching her smile turn into a grin, laughter passing her lips.
"I never leave home without them."
Stepping on to the elevator, she jams the close button before anyone can join us. "I don't like sharing an elevator with anyone." She shrugs unapologetically.
Truth be told, I completely understand. Having an elevator all to yourself is like a small reprieve from society. You get to breathe out and relax for those few moments.
The doors open and I walk out into the financial floor; I had never been here before. I follow her lead and we go to a small office huddled in a corner and covered in paper.
"Excuse the mess. Work is never done here," moving in to whisper conspiratorially, "especially when everyone else sits on their asses all day doing nothing."
"I would leave piles of work on their desks everyday when they go on break."
"That's a great idea!" Her eyes sparkle in mischief.
Laughing, she gathers her coat, purse, and keys. "Ready?" I ask, her arms once again full.
"Probably not, but I want to go home."
"I know that feeling."
Back in the elevator, we ride down and out the doors in silence. Only when we step out and walk to our cars do we gossip about boys. She has a lot to say, but I'm not surprised. She has an aura around her that is so open and genuine that anyone would be attracted to her personality, even as a friend.
"Have a good night, Amelia. See you Friday!"
"Bye, Rose! I'll be at your place at 6 so I can do your makeup and hair."
I nod, and get in my car, watching her do the same. We turn opposite ways to go home.