When Andy starts a complex and steamy love affair with her new boss, she discovers there's more to his arrogant facade than she originally thought.
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Having secured her dream job at Kelex, a company she's long admired, An...
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Entering the crowded vehicle, I slipped on my headphones. I elbowed my way to a pole and held onto it for dear life. Honestly, I hated the fact that I was almost at armpit height. Hadn't people heard of deodorant by now?
Nevertheless, it still wasn't enough to weaken my great state of mind, and I spent almost all of my way home with a grin, accompanied by my 'Good Mood' playlist.
Once out at the Ballard stop, in the fresh air again, the four-minute walk to my building was done lip-syncing and bobbing my head in rhythm with the beat. Not caring about other people's opinions, I ignored the few sideways looks I got. So what if I was a music-loving chick? Let him who has never gotten carried away by the Bee Gees cast the first stone.
I passed my car, parked in the street near my building, and I quickly glanced at it to make sure nothing had happened to it. My heart tightened a little at the sight of the decaying Ford that served me as a way of transportation. In car years, it must have been a hundred, at the very least. Even though I intended to use public transports as much as possible, like today, I had brought it with me to Seattle, to have the reassuring possibility of using it when in need. Ever since that summer of struggle to afford it – almost seven years ago – it had never failed me. Its condition had barely changed, even.
Maybe its red paint was a little more faded, but I had never actually seen it anywhere near factory-fresh, so I had no idea the exact tint it was supposed to be. The doors had always creaked, no matter how much I would oil them or tighten the bolts, and that weird smell emanating from the seats had never gone away, no matter how many scented thingies I would hang on my rearview mirror – three at the moment. Three cut-out palm trees, with a scent called Hawaiian dreams. So basically, the inside of my car smelled like a mix between tropical cocktails and butts.
But it didn't matter how many asses had sat in my car, it was mine, and I loved it.
I reached my building's entrance, turned my key into the heavy lock, and pushed the door open with a shove of my hip. Once in the safe confines of my building's hall, I attempted the worst moonwalk in history, until I bumped into someone. Startled and embarrassed beyond words, I turned around with a squeal and ended up facing my landlady.
"Mrs. Godfrey!" I exclaimed, putting my hand over my racing heart and pushing back my headphones. Llama shepherding, here I come...
She had to be one of the few people I didn't have to look up to. She was even smaller than me, but there was something about the woman that made her seem dangerous and imposing. She was in her late fifties to early sixties, had a broad frame, with a massive upper body and skinny legs. It was my third time seeing her, and she was always wearing a variation of the same outfit: an overly large T-shirt, leggings, and crocs. She had round glasses with thick lenses and always had a bandana to protect her hair.
"You youngsters, with your savage music. Never minding where you walk."
I nodded docilely, pretending I hadn't gotten this enthusiastic over a song sixteen years older than me. Staying Alive was the bomb. "Yes, so sorry. It won't happen again."
