favorite crime [h.s]

one

Alison

Life is a dead-end street.

And what happens when you enter a dead-end street? You try not to miss the next turn, which leads to the freeway.

All my life has been a dead-end street; whether it was the bad boy which I so blindly fell for, who brought me to hell every time he double-crossed my mind ⎯  or when I would ask my mom about my dad, to which I never received an answer.

I took the wrong turn too many times, and I'm finally ready to search for something that has meaning in my life.

I can forgive and forget, but some things aren't forgivable. Never-needy, that's why they think I'm temporary. I'm a lovely jewel, my grandma said. Getting attached to someone is something that I avoid ⎯  I've learned my lesson.

So what am I doing all alone in Philly? That's right, getting my shit together.

I burst through the double doors as if my life depended on this job. The entry hall is massive and only a few people are minding their business here. There's a reception desk in the middle of the room where a young woman is sitting, hiding behind her glasses. A guy is talking to her with his back facing me. This seems like the best opportunity to find out where the hell I need to go.

"Hello, what can I do for you?" The woman asks me, pushing up her big black glasses before looking at me.

"Hi, I'm Alison Evans, it's my first day here and I work as a journalist. I'm late though and I'm not sure where to go now," I say hastily, with my hands resting on the tall countertop.

She chuckles as if she hears stupid things like these every day. It wouldn't surprise me honestly but she only nods her head and types on the keyboard, the clicking of the keys echoing in the silent hall. The woman looks young, maybe a few years older than me, with light brown hair which is perfectly tucked back on her head in a tight bun.

"Do you have the contract which you needed to sign?" She asks, her eyes glued to the screen.

"Yes." Since I've already held it in my hand, I just hand it to her.

"Did you read it carefully?" She flickers through the pages to check if each page is signed.

"Yes," I say untruthfully.

"Okay, Mr Malik here is supposed to show you around the building," she reads off the screen with a smile, her hand pointing to the guy on my right.

I snap my head in his direction, the guy standing at the end of the counter is looking at me as well. What a coincidence, this guy was waiting for me here all along. He looks kind, a charming smile on his perfect face which is free from any messy hair because his black hair is perfectly slicked back and only a single strand is hanging down his forehead.

"Hi, I'm Alison," I smile and step over to him, stretching my hand out.

"Zayn." He takes my hand and shakes it firmly.

"I apologize for being late," I chuckle awkwardly just to clear things up why I wasn't showing up. He probably guessed it by now.

"I reckoned." He smiles reassuringly.

"Do you work here?" I ask dumbfoundedly. Of course, he works here, dumbass.

"I do." He nods. "Mind if I show you around a bit? I can tell you a lot more," he suggests, already gesturing his hand to the elevators on the side of the hall.

"That would be amazing." I smile.

"Great. Bye Liv, see you around," he speaks to the woman whose name is Liv, I guess. It's a cute name that I rarely hear around and maybe it's a short form for Olivia, but I like it.