The Trouble With You

o n e

The annoying shrill of your phone pulled you out of a dream that involved you and your movie crush on a yacht somewhere and anger unlike any other flared alive within you. Who dared to interrupt such a dream before it got good? You threw the covers off and reluctantly answered the call, knowing deep down what it was about.

"Is this y/n?"

"Unfortunately. Who is this?"

"I'm calling from Night." That explained the music in the background. "The owner of this phone has had too much to drink and is getting out of hand. Can you come pick him up?"

"I'll be there in twenty minutes." You hung up the phone and got dressed, cursing at your playboy boss who has been frequenting every club in the city (and out of) so calls like this in the middle of the night weren't abnormal. Doesn't mean they didn't infuriate you though.

You were hired about a year ago after applying to this random posting for an assistant to the creative director for an advertising firm. Out of all the Angelinas and Brads that showed up for the interview, you were surprised you got the job so you always went out of your way to prove that you belonged there, even after a year has passed.

You got in your car and drove off, tapping the wheel as you waited to turn onto the street that would take you to the club. The roads were quiet at this time, everyone who had things to do the next day were fast asleep. Like how you should be.

The street in front of the club was packed and there was nowhere to park so you had to park over on a side street and walk the rest of the way. Being a woman, walking at night wasn't an activity you participated in solely for the sake of staying alive so it was safe to say you were feeling a bit paranoid. You clutched your bag, making sure your pepper spray was within reach as you approached the club, joining the long line of people who were still waiting.

After 20 minutes and no one moving up, you walked past all of the people, ignoring their groans and complains and stood in front of the bouncer that closely resembled The Rock.

"I need to get inside."

"And I need a million dollars," he grunted. "Get back to your spot in line."

"You don't understand. I am an assistant to H/N and I need to get him out of there."

Annoyance bloomed in his gaze. "You work for that guy?" He stood aside to let you pass. "Good luck. You'll need it."

You grimaced as you went inside the club, the loud music instantly overstimulated you but not as much as the amount of bodies that were everywhere. No wonder people were stood outside, it looked like it was packed to capacity. You shoved your way to a corner so you could look out into the room and spot where your boss was.

And within a second, you saw him dancing on top of a table, completely wasted. A crowed of people surrounded him, cheering him on anytime he twisted his hips. You made your way closer to him, being shoved and elbowed, you were finally in front of him.

"Sir! Please get down from there!" You tried to reach for him but he danced out of your reach, unbuttoning his shirt. His hair was all over the place, as if he had gotten electrocuted or more realistically, someone had run their hands repeatedly through his hair, and his tie was wrapped around his head.

To put it frankly, he looked a hot mess. A mess that you had to clean up. You took a deep breath. "Sir, please. You have that important meeting tomorrow and I just—" Before you could say more, he jumped off the table and everyone cheered

He grabbed a glass off the table and downed it, then shattered it onto the ground. "Sir, that is enough!"

"What do you mean?" He wiped his mouth. "The fun's just getting started." He tried to take a step but he stumbled and fell over. You rushed forward to help him stand but he shoved you away and you fell onto the ground, wincing as as the glass from earlier pierced your hand. You got up and hid it behind you, not wanting him to see the blood.

"You're such a buzzkill, do you know that? I'm here, trying to have the time of my life and you're standing in my way, like always."

"Standing in your way? I'm trying to make sure you still have a career and a respectable reputation!" Your hand stung as you yelled at him but it was pale in comparison to the disappointment you felt inside right now.

"Yeah, right." He scoffed. "Don't act like you care. You do all those things so you can collect a pay check but guess what? You're not on the clock right now so leave."

"Are you serious?" You asked.

"Deadly. You're always crossing the line but let me remind you, I'm the boss and you're just an assistant. Do you get it?" He leaned in close, not stable on his feet. "I don't need you here."

Up until now, you've been more than just a boss and assistant. Even though you hated him at first, you both found a balance and even became friends but now...now you didn't even recognize who he was.

"I'll forgive everything you just said if you come with me right now." No client is going to want to work with a boss who can't even hold a couple of drinks and parties like he's in college. This was your final offer, if he didn't take it, you were done.

A woman you didn't recognize, dressed in a black dress that resembled a shirt, walked up close to you, breath reeking of whatever fruity drink she's been consuming. "Do you have a crush on him or something?"

"What?"

"A lot of people I know wouldn't infringe on their boss's personal life like this unless they harbour some type of feelings for them." She walked until she was behind you and squeezed your hand, the hand that had glass inside of it. You bit your lip as you felt the glass dig in deeper and then the pressure was gone and she appeared in front of you again. "He's mine, bitch."

You looked past her at your boss but he avoided your gaze like you were nothing. "You know what, nothing is worth being treated like this. Drink yourselves to death."

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you walked away, holding onto your injured hand. Despite all the noise, you heard his laughter clear as day as they both watched you leave, hurt and humiliated.