What Could've Been Us l EDITING

four

TW: racism

M A T T I A S

Who would've thought that the same girl that I bump into at the grocery AND club turns up for an interview at my company.

It's weird because whenever I see people in the streets, I usually don't end up seeing them ever again.

I called Janet to let her know that the rest could go home and that we found what we're looking for. I had spent all week looking for an assistant for my father for our new museum, but every one I looked at was basic. They all said the same thing. They were missing flare. Spice.

I hear a slight knock on my door.

"Come in," I yell.

My father walks in. I just knew that my day was going to end horribly. He had this way of ruining your mood. I couldn't explain it, but he just instantly killed your vibe.

"Ah Mattias good to see you." He says sarcastically.

"Too bad the feeling isn't mutual." It really wasn't.

"Alright, Janet tells me you've found me an assistant."

"Yes, I have." I show him her resume and her paintings, but he doesn't seem impressed. The man is never happy.

"Son she's black." He says scrunching his face.

"Why the fuck does that matter?" I ask.

This was one of the many reasons I despised my father. He would never keep his opinion to himself. Always degrading and insulting everyone. Including his own family.

"Calm down, it was just to joke. You people are so sensitive these days." He chuckles.

I rolled my eyes. That was one of his favourite phrases. Sensitive my ass.

"Anyway, bring her in tomorrow, I want to see what's so special about her." He says, checking his phone.

"I emailed her saying next week," I tell him, looking up from my laptop.

"You really can't do anything right, huh? You're supposed to bring them in the next day, not the week." He yelled annoyed.

"But you said-"

"Will you shut up. I tell you one simple thing to do, and you mess it up. I'm heading home." He stormed out of the room and slammed the door.

I just want to fucking quit.

I wasn't even surprised. This happened every fucking day. At home was even worse because nobody was there to stop him. I grab my stuff and leave. I've had enough of this shit.

Dad's are supposed to be supportive and understanding. Guess what? They weren't. They were pains in the ass.

Well, in my case, mine was.

I don't even know what possessed my mom to marry him. Maybe she went for the looks.

Nah, I don't know what she went for. My dad is ugly. Maybe he aged horribly. My sister and I definitely got our looks from our mother. Thank god.

Once I'm outside, I pull out a cigarette and take a puff. Smoking has been one of my escapes. People always tell me smoking is bad for you, you're going to die from cancer and shit. Who gives a fuck. Not like anyone's going to care.

I look around and I see Chantelle. The fuck is she still doing here? It's been at least 45 minutes since her interview.

"What are you still doing here?" I ask her as I walk up to her.

"I'm waiting for a friend, we're supposed to go to lunch together." She says.

"Oh okay. That's boring." It really was. Why wait for someone like an idiot outside when you could just go home and eat.

"Boring? Having lunch with your friend isn't boring." She tells me while rolling her eyes.

"Kinda is," I say.

"Well, you must be a pretty boring person." She replies.

 I continue to smoke my cigarette. "Want one?" I say as I hand her a cigarette.

"Oh, I don't smoke." I knew it. I nod and we fall into awkward silence.

"Of course you don't. I have to go. Bye, I guess." Chantelle waves and bite my cheek to stop myself from laughing.

I don't even know why I find this funny.

"Later."

I start to walk away, but I can feel that she's staring. "Stop staring at me, Chantelle."

"I wasn't staring!" She exclaims. I shake my head in amusement.

The next few weeks or months are going to be fun. Depends on how long she stays.

She was easy to mess with. I liked that. I just knew that she'd intrigued me. Especially after the club when she claimed she would've been fine when she was getting harassed and when she mocked me.

Normally, if anyone had treated me the way that Chantelle had, I would tell them to leave. But with her, I let it pass by. I frowned at my actions.

Why did I treat her differently than the others?

My brain was so fucked up, that not even I understood some of my actions. I didn't think. I just did what I felt like doing in the heat of the moment.

It's cost me a lot back when I was younger, but I try not to think of that. My childhood was a fucking mess.

I've seen so much stuff I wasn't supposed to see when I was young, that I couldn't even trust my own dad around my mother.

My father's and mother's relationship was revolved around screaming and yelling. So growing up, I was sensitive when people raised their voices at me.

If someone had only simply started talking loud, I would immediately feel out of place. I would star to grow anxious. There was only one person who could help me with that.

Later in the years, my sensibility to loud talkers had gone away. I had even become someone who constantly yelled.

It was sort of a defence mechanism. When I wanted to drop someone, I tried to scare them away. I became detached and cold.

But for some odd reason that is unknown, my guard had slightly dropped when I met Chantelle Clark. 

-

A/N: this one is a bit shorter than i would've liked, but it's fine.

now they're (maybe) working together👀 do you think she'll get the job?

edit:

im rereading all the chapters and comments, and i didn't know some people didn't like chantelle in the first couple of chapters.

i will not tolerate chantelle slander.

stay safe and drink water <3
-L