used to this ★ lrh

2

"These need to be revised. Something is missing. Please have them done before you leave. We're relying on you, Madison."

"Okay...What do you suggest? I think I got my point across and I significantly revised it." Ethan, one of the editors, had only spoken a couple sentences but she already felt herself becoming self conscious about her work.  

"I think you could find another source to use for one of them. As far as the other ones I don't know but they can't be published the way they are right now."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him as she grabbed her computer and rushed back to her desk. She thought for once, maybe, she'd done something right. She loved her job, really. It was amazing to be working with a top media company in D.C. and writing about politics and culture. It was her dream. This week she was given the privilege to write about some important stories, and didn't want to screw it up. Still, with all that she had done, it wasn't enough. The café she visited last night inspired her, and she felt so confident that she wrote for hours, perfecting the articles until she was asked to leave when the shop closed. Guess it was all for nothing, she thought. It seemed as if he hadn't bothered to spend more than 2 minutes reading everything, yet had so many criticisms that he couldn't even articulate into actual constructive feedback. 

Writing it all out was easy, but when it came to fine-tuning, she had trouble figuring out where to start when it seemed like she had already cut out the fluff. As much as she tried not to let Ethan's comments get to her, it sucked. The logical part of her brain told her that he was just doing his job, but at times it felt like he was constantly making things harder for her. If a man wrote this exact thing I'm sure he'd think it was fine.

Her phone buzzed, and she quickly checked it to see a text from her best friend, Andrew, about meeting for dinner.

Madison: Sorry, I've got to keep working on my articles, and then force myself to go to the gym. Tomorrow?

Andrew: Madison, please don't stress out too much. Your writing is amazing. Remember that. 

Madison: Thank you :) I'll talk with you later. You're the best. Seriously. 

-
Madison hurriedly scanned her gym card, flashing a small smile to the nice man who always worked at the front desk when she came. Usually, she would have a quick conversation with him to talk about their weeks so far, but her brain was too frazzled to even remember one of the few things that were routine to her. With one arm holding her gym bag and the other holding her phone, she rushed towards the locker room.

She was in desperate need of something to distract her from how stressful work was, in combination with the long, crowded, metro ride here. After Ethan's comments, the articles she was proud of now seemed average and boring, which made her even less motivated to find something to improve. It just wasn't her day. 

Suddenly she felt her ankle roll thanks to the rather uncomfortable heels she wore all day. In an attempt to catch herself she found herself reaching for whatever she could find that would provide stability. It took her about five seconds before she realized she was now holding on to a very damp shirt that belonged to a very sweaty man. Gross.

In an instant she felt her cheeks heating up and she rushed to find words to say to the man who looked very bothered because her hand was still clinging to his shirt. She straightened up and resisted the urge to wipe her hand on her pants, but reminded herself they were new and did not deserve some random man's sweat on them.

She took note of the way his hand reached up to remove one of his Bluetooth headphones as his eyebrows rose, expectantly almost. Then she realized how much time had passed and decided to actually speak so she could wash her hand and get on with her workout.

"Um, I'm so sorry. I twisted my ankle, I guess. Sorry." She struggled to talk normally when her ankle was throbbing in pain. But what she didn't want to admit to herself was that she was speechless because of how attractive this man was, sweaty shirt or not. And here he was, maybe glaring down at her with a few curse words in his head, probably. Madison wanted to get as far away from this man as possible even if it meant limping there. The longer he looked at her, the more stupid she felt simply for being in his way. 

His eyes finally left her face to scan her up and down, seemingly evaluating her outfit and how unfit it was for the gym. He resisted the urge to chuckle at the uncomfortable situation, whereas she was nothing but mortified.

"Maybe consider some flats next time."

——
who dat who dat!?? We'll see.... :)