The Unfortunate Events of Falling in Love

Chapter Two: Mislead and Misinformed

By the time I get home later today, I am at my wit's end. I thought the first half of my day was bad? After lunch as I was heading towards my desk, one of Ryan's groupies 'accidentally' spilled coffee all over me. Then, some gum mysteriously appeared on my keyboard. I went to the bathroom once and I came back to find my monitor unplugged. Little things like that kept piling up through the day. Nothing of real significance, just annoying.

I look around my apartment and sigh. I have a gourmet kitchen and a fridge stocked with the best produce money can buy yet the only thing I can think about right now is greasy onion rings from any fast food restaurant in town. Yes, that's it. Fast food.

Grabbing the bottom of my black pumps, I walk into my bedroom and throw them on the bed. I take off my blazer and my earrings go next. Yanking on the the elastic in my thick hair, the red-brown curls are loose around my shoulders, ending half way down my back. I rummaged through my drawers as I unbutton and unzip my dress pants. I grab my favorite pair of jeans. I throw on a tight, plain white Tee and grab my leather jacket to put over it. I shove my feet inside my worn black boots before looking in the mirror one last time. I swipe another layer of mascara that makes my dark blue-green eyes pop even more than they do against my fair skin. A little dash of lip gloss and I'm good to go. Gone is the girl who is claimed to be frigid, that doesn't speak to a single coworker, just her boss. No, that girl is replaced with something more alive. There is a spark in the girl's eyes that are staring back at me. A fire that isn't there when I am walking through life at that job I am required to have to stay under the radar.

I snatch up my black leather wristlet and put my phone and keys in there. The only indication that I turn too quickly to the door is the sound of my things hitting the floor. Groaning, I bend over to grab them. My fingers wrap around my phone but instead of feeling the rubber indents of my case, my fingers are met with a rougher, more pliant material. I turn my phone over to see something I haven't thought of for a long time. Well, more like someone. The picture is a little yellow around the edges and slightly wrinkled with age. I run my finger over her face to smooth out the creases. It's not until I feel that my cheeks are wet that I realize the tears falling from my eyes. Angrily, I wipe them away. At least I'm a pretty crier. No mascara trails, or red puffy eyes. For someone who is known for being unemotional, it's hard when something from the past creeps back when you least expect it and effects you so hard. I stare at the photo for a few moments before placing it back in the slot of my wristlet.

Standing back up, I leave the apartment without a backward glance. I run down the stairs as fast as I can. When I reach the bottom, adrenaline is pumping through my veins. I close my eyes and try to still my racing heart but it's not working. I grunt and run my hands through my hair. I walk through the lobby and head to the parking garage. The valet starts yelling at me but I ignore him and head towards my favorite of all of my toys. My beautiful motorcycle. A black, Softail Fat Boy S Harley. I hastily put my helmet on, shove the keys in, twist, and off I go.

"Hey!" the valet is still yelling. "Hey! Lady, stop." I swerve around him when he steps in my path. "I'll call the cops!" Aww, how cute. He things I'm a thief. The only thing I yell back is,"I'm the owner, idiot," before I continue on my way.

There's something about fast moving things that makes me feel calm and alive at the same time. Sports cars, speed boats, jet skis, and of course motorcycles. The wind rushing through my hair, everything around me blurred. It's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Closing the gap between me and death has always been my thing. I've done some crazy stuff just to make myself feel something. Zip lining, skydiving, bungee jumping, cliff jumping, hang gliding, volcano boarding, swimming with sharks, you name it I've probably done it. I guess that's why I'm trying anything I can. I've been wandering around the world with no purpose but a whole lot of money to play with. Sure, I donate to charities and I volunteer often, but I don't have a purpose. At 23, most people are starting their first job or still in college. Others are married and have kids. A life. Why don't I?