Chapter Text
- "What the?!" do not hold back my emotions when a man touches me with a shoulder, and all my favorite and desired latte all morning is scattered on my shirt. What a day, huh?
I roll my eyes and race on, merging with the maddened morning New York. Sometimes it seems to me that I will never get used to this sort of chaos.
I moved to New York a few weeks ago, hoping to start a happy and wonderful life in the Big Apple. Finally finded a job that suits me perfectly.
I live between times with my former classmate and part-time best friend, Octavia Blake.
She did not break for a long time when I asked to shelter me. She, in fact, needs money to pay the rent, and the apartment is not cheap, because she has always loved luxury and, naturally, she chose housing according to the same criterion. But it’s not ashamed to bring people into the house, but to pay the rent for the two of us on the shoulder, so it's a sin to complain about something.
Let's get back to me a little ... Now I'm in a hurry rushing to an interview in a very, very famous company. I am terribly worried because this is such a chance that I will simply die if I don't get this position. And as you have already noticed, on my way I tearing everything down. Even the guy who hit me with his shoulder and spilled all the coffee on me. How to go to an interview like this? I rubbed the wet spot lightly with my hands, but to no avail. I sigh and, resigned, I catch the «yellow-bellied», this is what I call a taxi. Is it funny? Oh yeah! These are still flowers. In general, I'm a little crazy, probably all artists are like that. Well, in general, having jumped into the car, I give the address, and the yellow-bellied carries me straight to the appointed address.
All the time that we drove, I nervously glance at my wristwatch and already inadvertently start biting my nails in anticipation of a serious interview. The phone vibrated in my pocket. I pull it out, and a text message from Octavia popped up on the lit display:
«O: "Good luck :)"»
«C: "Thank you. Scary to the shit"»
«O: "Don't be afraid, Princess, everything will be cool. I'll go there as soon as you're done. Let's drink from happiness or from grief)))"»
«C: "You are so caring) Deal!)»
«O: Don't screw up ...»
A friend can cheer you up, you won’t say anything. I smiled and shoved the phone back into my jacket pocket. Sighing, i stared out the window. I plunged into my thoughts and began to consider the city that opened to me from the bridge. Extraordinarily beautiful and full of mysteries.
It's warm outside, and the rays of the sun do what they dance on the windows of skyscrapers and dazzle my eyes, but this only raises my mood and, so to speak, fighting spirit.
I am pushed out of my thoughts by the muffled engine of the jellus. Have arrived. I raise my eyes and look up through the window. Jesus, this building is so huge it makes me dizzy. I swallow and grab my purse and open the door. I pass the bill to the taxi driver through the window:
- "Thank you." I smile, and he, nodding back to me, disappears away. And I, having pulled on my shirt, sigh and, turning to face the building, I lift my head up, and my head is spinning again from the majestic dimensions of this building.
It is very warm outside, and the light breeze barely touches my skin, burning with excitement and fear. Once again, drawing in noisy air, I dash off and follow to the entrance.
With trembling hands, I open the massive glass doors and enter the building. I go up to the girl who is behind the reception and say who I am and where I actually came, to which she smiles sweetly and, giving me the floor and office numbers, points to the elevator.
On wadded feet I fly to him and fly through the newly opened doors. Probably a dozen more flew in with me, the elevator is big.
Having passed God knows how many floors, I get out of this bodily contact with all, probably, the employees of this building and fly further to look for an office.
Finally, reaching the huge hall, I sit down on a soft sofa, where a dozen more like me rest. Someone is calm as a boa constrictor, flipping through magazines. Someone nervously chews their nails and knocks their heels on, probably, expensive tiles. And someone I ...
I sit and stare at one point. Everything inside is compressed into a tight knot. Hands are getting cold, then burning. The heart then stops when the doors swing open to and fro, then again beats like crazy. And the interview didn't even start. Probably, when it starts, I'll just die under the doors. And so it will be. It's always like this with me. I'm twenty-six now, and I still act like a teenager in these situations.
And again my heart skips a beat when somewhere in the distance the sound of an elevator is heard, and like a pair of heels walking here. Everyone tensed and turned their heads to the side, watching the next, most likely, competitor, but no. Everyone tensed even harder, if possible, of course. This is not a competitor.
Two girls are walking down the hall. One blonde with dark eyes says something to a nearby brunette, and she only straightens the sleeves of an expensive jacket and does not even look at the girl. The brunette looks very cool. A navy blue blazer, skinny trousers with a loose white blouse tucked into them, and black shoes. She looks like the Boss.
Without washing the martyrs sitting here with their green eyes, the brunette and the blonde enter the office. A minute ... two ... three, and the door opens. Brown-eyed calls for the first victim, and she flies into the office on her barely holding legs.
Two hours have passed at this pace, probably. I have already completely relaxed, because all my energy I was nervous and it evaporated. That's just the way I am.
After another fifteen minutes, the door opens, and the a brown-eyed smile, she says:
- "Griffin."
I get up and go into the office with a calm expression. The girl closes the door behind me and points me to a chair. I sit down and watch the back of a seemingly tired brunette who, with her hands in her pockets, looks out the window of the building.
I shifted slightly in my chair and, taking out the folder from my bag, put it on this huge and long table. The brunette, only with a sigh, turns to face me again with tired green eyes. And then like lightning struck me.
Her impassive gaze and mine, like a cowardly rabbit, met. She tilts her head a little to the side and, continuing to keep her hands in her pockets, looks at me, so eagerly that I feel the chair under my the fifth point is evaporating somewhere.
Looks and looks. I physically feel the pressure that she imposes on me with her gaze. I'm already not at ease. I swallow and decide to look away first. I look at my hands, and I'm sure it amuses her, since she grinned one hundred percent.
Holding, apparently, another moment of glance at me, she sits down on the other end of the table and, throwing one leg over the other, leans back, continuing to drill me. What the?!
- “So…” she begins, and her voice made me nearly fall off my chair. She has such a pleasant and quiet, but at the same time velvet voice that I just opened my ears and listened to her blankly.
- "Clarke Griffin, huh?"
- "Yes." I answer quietly. She continues with her calm, like a boa constrictor gaze to look through the questionnaire that is in her hands. Lord. Her accent. He's just drives crazy. Stop what?! Hey, Clarke! You normal? What are you thinking now? She's yours, for sure, the future boss and even a girl. Wake up, you fool!
- "Good." She throws the sheet on the table and, folding her arms over her chest, completely leans back on the chair. She looks at me with her burning gaze, and all my organs just begin to twist.
- “You graduated from the Seattle Academy of Arts. Specialty ..." she glared at the sheet and then back at me
- "graphic design."
- "Right." I try to calmly answer, but under her gaze it is difficult, and her impassive tone does not make it easier.
- "Where have you worked until now?"
- "At Seattle Sky. Three years, and then moved here."
- "Why did you leave such a good position in one of the most beautiful cities in the United States?" what kind of questions? I wanted it! The brunette still glares at me, and I have no choice but to answer:
- "I love New York and have always dreamed of living here. I also wanted more and I am sure that New York will give it to me."
- "That's how." the girl smirks slightly and looks down at the paper, and then back at me.
- “Tell me, Clarke… what is it about you that takes you to a different level from your competitors. How are they inferior to you?"
What is this question? How can i answer it?! I swallow nervously and run with my eyes already one hundred percent widened over the green-eyed face. She again defiantly throws her head back, and, like a queen, watches me. Well, what a woman, eh?!
- "I cannot answer so directly. I don't know why I am better or worse than them ... I only know one thing that I deserve to be the art director of this company. I have a lot of ideas, and I'm going to make a sea of changes and make the magazine even more colorful and enjoyable to the world. I can do it. I know."
She blurted out that even her eyebrows went up in surprise. Was it successful or not? I will die now, because I can hear my heartbeat even in my ears.
Why are you silent? Say something, I'll die now, young and healthy.
- "Understood." she gets up and starts walking slowly around the office. Is that all? I look at her nervously, and she continues, looking out the window:
- "Why did you choose our publication?" she still looking out the window and her calm tone pisses me off.
- "I always read this magazine and every time I thought that someday my works and everything that I had a hand in would be published here. I was burning with this dream. And I know for sure that I can give him more."
- "You are very confident in yourself." she flashed at me with green eyes in the reflection of the window. There is such tension that I involuntarily wondered where that girl was. Maybe she has already choked on our past rushing electrodes, which every now and then drive me crazy. I turn my head back. And, no, she is alive and silently watching us. I wonder how she puts up with her? I swallow and look at the brunette again.
- "Is it bad?" I ask calmly and raise my chin. Wow, how cocky I am. I will get for it.
- “No…” She turns to face me.
- “That's all, Miss Griffin." All? Heck! She definitely won't take me, she doesn't need people like me. Well, how could it be. I missed the best job ever. I'll be damned.
I got up and, forgetting about everything, moved to the door, not even glancing at the green ones. I got out and went to the elevator, while it was not, I was scribbling SMS. Angrily pushing on the display under the fingers. Heck!
«C: "We drink from grief. They didn't take me."»
«O: "Fuck, sorry. Why?"»
«C: "Sassy, I guess)"»
«O: "Hahaha, looks like you. Who accepted you?"»
«C: "She didn't even give her name. Some kind of brunette."»
«O: "Oh, it's probably Holt. Is she that sexy with green eyes?"»
«C: "Yes! How do you know?"»
«O: "I saw her in the magazine a couple of times and in the news. Well I prepared for your future work, not that you do not know your boss. The failed boss ..."»
«C: "What punctuality. Maybe for the best. Where are you?"»
«O: "I'll be near the building soon."
«C: "I'm out..."»
I sigh and straighten my skirt and press the elevator button. Waiting and waiting. How long can he go. I have pressed it for the hundredth time, and as luck would have it, he is gone. I stare blankly at the dial and watch the numbers jump up.
I hear the clatter of heels. In the reflection of the metal of the elevator, I see a distinctly approaching brunette. Lord, I'm going to die now.
Before she stops, the door opens, and we enter the elevator, full of people. She goes first and pushes on. I, lowering my head, follow her and try not to look, but I distinctly feel that she is staring at me. Again, from this tension, everything in my lower abdomen began to sing, but it sang so much as it should not sing in the presence of a woman. What's wrong with me?!
I turned around and stood with my back to her, but because of the crowd of people I cuddle closer to her. So keenly I feel the warmth of her body, the warm breath near my ear and the unusual aroma of her perfume. Lord, I feel that my legs give way.
Everything would be fine. I would calmly drive to the first floor, not paying attention to her, and forget this impassive brunette, but only something went wrong, and my heart fell into a sludge when I suddenly felt her hands on my waist. Are these her hands? I freeze, put my head down and look. Lord, this is her hand. What the?! I raised my head higher and with rounded eyes I stare at the back of the head of some guy.
I am frozen and cannot resist. What is she doing? I can feel her still even breathing near my neck and a warm hand sliding down to the edge of the skirt. Lord, even if no one noticed! What am I thinking about? I need to think about how to stop this, and I think no one would notice how the brunette's hands lift my skirt and ... but what? She's not going to... Damn!"
She nuzzles my neck and, oh God, bites my ear. This is already beyond the scope. I swallow and turn my head to meet her face. She pulls away, but still does not remove her hand from my waist.
As luck would have it, a lump stuck in my grief and does not allow me to say anything to her. Instead, I stand like a statue and feel her breath against my cheek. She smirks, and then holds out something to me with her other hand. I, lowering my gaze down, look at my portfolio, which is in my hands. I freeze from her velvety voice with a pleasant accent:
- "You forgot your portfolio, Miss Griffin," she, once again sliding her hand over my stomach and below, removes them,
- "good work," pulls my hair to one side and continues to whisper softly.
- "You fit us." I round my eyes and hardly hear the elevator ringing, saying that it's time to get out, I hear only her words:
- "Welcome to New York ..."
The brunette grins and exits the elevator, walking around me like a motionless object. And I, with still rounded eyes, gaze at the graceful figure that has just emerged and cannot believe my ears. I am still in shock and not from the fact that they took me, but from the fact that this brunette was touching me. Even worse, I liked it and literally turned on.
As the saying goes «I'm in shit!»