When Bexley's editor Eva Mellon tries to dig up secrets on an impromptu 'Office Romeo', whose oblivious 'Juliet' stands in the way of 'her forever' with fellow colleague Josh, she finds herself eerily attracted to the no-nonsense, intimidating (but...
I woke up at 4 am with a terrible headache. Sunrise was a thick three hours away, and my stock of Paracetamols had exhausted a week before. I groaned with pain and hurried myself an espresso shot.
' You did that?'
Will's words played in my head on a loop. I let my fingers run through my hair. Silly curls! I cursed as another sip of warm coffee went down my throat.
Roms was probably dozing off in her room after another all-nighter. Law school had taken a toll on her, and I nearly forgot about the thing she had with Kade when I came home last night. To save myself an interrogation, I shut myself in the bedroom and bawled my eyes out to sleep.
I had no idea what to do with half a headache this early. So after an hour and a half, I decided to do what I always hated. Go on a morning walk. There won't be another morning when I will get to try things that would end up un-ticked on my do-it-in-this-lifetime list.
I tied my hair into a loose bun, changed into a pair of gym shorts, and hit the road with a hoodie. When I hit the road, I looked like someone who had run off from a mental asylum. Blame it all on Will Turner for making me cry. Fucking Tyranny and his cold heart!
For five minutes straight, I ran on the sidewalk like a mad girl. Trying to escape the city sounds with the air in my lungs as my heart raced, beating the hell out. The idea seemed to relieve, but the reality was always a different story. Running was never an option when life was concerned, the damned thing catches back in no time. Yet I tried doing the inevitable.
I felt my muscles fatigued, my head devoid of straight thoughts and pain was the sole sensation quaking through me. I realized I had the wrong bra. Morning walks and running are different things. My asymmetrical boobs could assure you of that.
I stopped when I couldn't breathe. Not exercising enough does that to you, but ten minutes down the ground, you have that feeling which makes you feel better. Runners high, is what they call it.
I jogged to the last block that turned on Fourth Street. Only a few vehicles passed down the road, a few stray dogs turned and twisted in their sleep, and the public bus was out for its first trip. I thought of walking to Central Park when my head started aching again. No pharmacy was open before seven in the morning, and those who did were all down 10th Street.
"Athletic much, are we?"
A voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned to find a man dressed in track pants and a hoodie. A Yankee's baseball cap ducked underneath the hood so the streetlight couldn't cut through his facial features. Traitor. Yankees at Fordshire? Anyways, all the more reason to stay away from him.
"I am not a sports fan."I scoffed.
"Aren't you a bit too grumpy for a pretty girl?"He inched closer.
His voice seemed eerily familiar. But headaches brought logic to a zero level. I could kick him in the nuts if he tries anything funny. I might cry like a puppy, but no one messes with a Mellon girl, as much as that has been my mantra, I had grown up with it in my bones. Just remember to KISS- Kick him in nuts, Ignore his pleadings, Strike at the sternum, Strap him down with his body weight: I remembered from a girl's guidebook.
"Fuck off, or I am gonna K-I-S-S you," I said.
"So you are going to kiss me? Are you a molester?"The guy chuckled.
When did stalkers and creeps start getting a knack for humor?
"Stupid, it is K-I-S-S, not kiss!"I said, emphasizing a little longer kiss.
"Never-mind. I figured you were crazy. Just didn't figure out how much."He said.
The balls of this man to say this nonsense to my face!
"Just who do you think you are, mister!"I walked up front to him and yanked off the cap from his hood.
Golden brown curls were left wild. Holy shit. Tyranny Turner? What the hell was he doing this early?
He inched closer to me, taking his cap back. His hands went way behind my back, holding me in place. His eyes stared into mine with remnants of the rage I had seen in them the previous night.
"I am sorry. I didn't know..."I said, my eyes turned down, staying still in his grip.
"Why are you running down the city this early? Are you crazy?" He seethed with anger.
"Why do you care? Especially when you are doing quite the same!" I said plaintively.
We stood there in silence. My eyes burned a hole in the ground while the first rays of morning touched my cheeks.
"I couldn't sleep. Thanks to a certain someone! Now I have a headache and office hours too. Let me go!" I said as he let go of his grip.
I walked in the opposite direction. I didn't expect to run into Will. Neither did he.
"Well, you weren't the only one who could not sleep! But try not to stall alone in the streets this early. Lunatic!"He shouted behind my back.
I turned around to find him staring in my direction.
"I am not a lunatic! You made me one because you won't forgive me and neither tell me how to make it up to you."I said and ran away.
My chest felt heavy, and my breath puffed. That is enough talk for a morning with the last person I wanted to see. Will Turner, I hope you grow a heart. If you don't, stop trying to break mine. The words caught up in a lump within my throat. I sighed, and saw the sun rising with my spirits as the sky turned vermilion pink.
Another long Fordshire day awaited with one of its favorite troublemakers lined down the street.
I can deal with Tyranny Turner at Bexley's. That doesn't mean I won't cry anymore today. Was he not able to sleep too? Or is that another one of his games? Fuck him. I can't let the man mess with my head than he already has!
***
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
