TERESA'S POV
The weekend had been a whirlwind, and not in the sense of a wild adventure. It was more like a series of pep talks and endless cups of coffee, all courtesy of Luke. He practically moved into my apartment, bringing a small duffel bag filled with old movies, snacks, and a bag of gummy bears, which he claimed were essential to any emotional recovery process.
"So, what's the plan?" Luke asked, tossing a bag of chips on the couch.
I sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions. "I don't know, Luke. Pretend I never existed? Fake my death? Move to the Amazon and live with the monkeys?"
Luke chuckled. "Or, you could, you know, show up at work on Monday and face the music."
"Oh, come on. Can't we at least consider the monkey idea?" I groaned, grabbing a handful of chips and stuffing them into my mouth.
Luke rolled his eyes, then leaned forward, his expression turning serious. "Teresa, look, it sucks. It sucks worse than that time I tried to give myself a haircut in middle school. But you can't just hide forever. You've got to face it head-on. And you're not doing it alone. I'll help you pick out a killer outfit, and we'll get through this. Together."
I looked at him, my eyes welling up with tears. "You're like a walking motivational poster, you know that?"
Luke grinned. "Yeah, well, somebody's got to be the grown-up here."
Monday morning, the dreaded day, came too soon, and as promised, Luke was right there, rummaging through my closet like a madman. Clothes flew through the air, landing in various heaps around my bedroom.
"How about this one?" he asked, holding up a red dress that looked like it belonged in a nightclub.
"For work, Luke. Not for seducing the entire board of directors," I said, rolling my eyes.
"Fine, fine. Let's see… Aha!" He pulled out a sleek navy blue dress. "This. It's professional, but it says, 'I'm ready to conquer the world.'"
I sighed. "More like, 'I'm ready to be fed to the sharks.'"
Luke came over, grabbing my shoulders. "Listen, Teresa. You are not the sum of one mistake. You are capable, smart, and you're going to walk in there with your head held high. If anyone gives you trouble, you'll kick their butts. Well, metaphorically."
I laughed despite myself. "Alright, let's get this over with."
Getting to the company, I walked into the office, trying to keep my head up, though every fiber of my being screamed to turn and run. People stared, whispering behind their coffee cups. The atmosphere felt heavy, like I'd stepped into a funeral – my own, to be precise. A few colleagues even gasped, like they'd seen a ghost.
"Is that Teresa?" someone whispered.
"Thought she'd crawled into a hole after what happened," another voice muttered.
I bit my lip, trying to stay calm. The thought of running off to the Amazon was starting to look more appealing by the second.
My mind flashed back to last week Monday and my idiot ex-boyfriend, Mark. He had seemed so sincere, promising to keep it between us. I was such a fool. I should have known he was just using me to get insider information. By Wednesday morning, all hell had broken loose when the confidential details had been leaked online. I had vanished from the office, consumed by guilt and shame.
Now, I had to face the consequences. My heart pounded as I approached my boss's office door. I took a deep breath and knocked.
"Come in," barked Mr. Harding's voice. He always sounded like he was perpetually chewing on gravel.
I paused for a bit, took a deep breath, and then stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Mr. Harding, my boss of five years, sat behind his large oak desk, looking like an angry bull ready to charge.
"Teresa," he said, glaring at me over his glasses. "I assume you know why you're here?"
"Yes, Mr. Harding," I stammered, my heart was beating so fast and my entire body felt like I had suddenly been set on fire. "I… I'm so sorry. I know I made a huge mistake. I told Mark about the contract, and he betrayed my trust. I'll do whatever it takes to make this right. Please, just give me a chance." I spilled out in a panic.
Omg, this wasn't the plan! I wasn't supposed to confess to being an idiot so bluntly!
Mr. Harding's face turned a shade of red I'd never seen before. He slammed his fists on the desk, making me jump. "A chance? You want a chance? You have single-handedly jeopardized one of our biggest deals! You think a simple apology will fix this? You are nothing but a reckless, irresponsible, clumsy, no good—" he spat out a string of insults, each one hitting me like a slap across the face.
I flinched with each word, tears rolling down my cheeks. "Please, Mr. Harding, I swear I'll make it right. I'll work day and night, no breaks, no weekends, cut my pay, just please—"
He cut me off, standing up and pointing to the door. "You're fired, Teresa! Get out of my sight! And don't think this is over. We will sue you for every penny you have!"
My whole world shattered, I stood there, paralyzed, just staring at him with wide eyes and open mouth until he marched around the desk, grabbed my arm, and shoved me toward the door. "Out! Now!" he shouted.
I stumbled out, barely able to see through my tears. The humiliation was unbearable. I wanted a black hole to suddenly appear and swallow me whole. If I could dig a hole and enter I would have done it in an instant instead of having to suffer the shame of walking back out of the company.
As I walked through the office, sobbing, people stared, their whispers were louder now.
"Look at her, crying like a baby," someone sneered.
"What did she expect? You can't go around spilling secrets and get away with it," another chimed in.
I felt like I was shrinking, their words cutting deeper than I thought possible. Just when I thought it couldn't get worse, Erica, my least favorite colleague, strutted over, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.
Not now, please, not now!
"Well, well, well," she said, crossing her arms and my heart squeezed. "The queen of screw-ups, everyone! Tell me, Teresa, how does it feel to destroy everything you worked for? Oh wait, I guess you can't answer that since you're unemployed now."
I closed my eyes, the humiliation clinging to me like a second skin. Her words were like daggers, each one hitting its mark. I felt the tears spill over, and before I could stop myself, I turned and bolted for the exit, ignoring the laughter that followed me.
God, I wish I never left my couch! Stupid Luke and his motivational speeches had ended up being the death of me.
I ran until I couldn't breathe, finding myself in a quiet corner of the parking lot. There, a sleek black car sat, its paint glinting in the sunlight. I didn't really care who it belonged to, I just needed a place to hide and cry, and so, I collapsed beside it, burying my face in my hands, sobbing like I hadn't in years.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps. I looked up through my tears to see a man standing beside me. He was tall, with piercing green eyes and jet-black hair, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark suit. He looked down at me with a combination of shock, annoyance and… was that boredom?
"Excuse me," he said in a voice as smooth as silk but cold as ice. "You're sitting next to my car. Could you possibly go cry somewhere else?"
I scrambled to my feet, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Yeah, yeah," he sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "Spare me the drama. Where are you headed?"
I blinked at him, confused. "I… I don't know. Home, I guess. I just got fired."
He raised an eyebrow. "Clearly. Get in," he said, nodding toward his car.
"What? No, I couldn't—"
"Get in," he repeated, this time more firmly. He opened the passenger door, gesturing impatiently.
I looked at the car, sleek and luxurious, the kind you see in movies, then back at him. "Look, I don't know you, and I'm not getting into a car with a complete stranger."
He rolled his eyes. "Trust me, I have better things to do than kidnap some short, skinny random woman crying in a parking lot. Get in before I change my mind."
Before I could protest further, he grabbed my hand. A jolt like electricity shot through me the moment our skin touched, as if something surged from his hand to mine. His eyes widened slightly, and I could tell he felt it too. Instinctively, I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, firm yet unbothered, as if nothing had happened. With a gentle yet unyielding push, he guided me into the passenger seat and shut the door behind me.
He walked around, slid into the driver's side, and started the engine with a roar.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked, my voice unintentionally small.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. "Someplace you can pull yourself together. And stop looking at me like I'm a serial killer. You're not that special."
I was too stunned to respond. As we drove off, I couldn't help but wonder who this man was and why, in the midst of my worst day, he was suddenly here, offering me a ride.
Well, if he'd turned out to be a serial killer, at least he'd be putting me out of my misery.