What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Ariana Grande - Daydreamin'.
~
THE SUN IS HIGH IN THE SKY, heating up the windows and competing with the soft purrs of the air conditioning to warm me up. The understanding of how one day is so cold and the next so...warm eludes me.
I'm researching on Fibrositis on my laptop while intermittently getting lost in my fantasies, and Trevor and Manuel are few meters away from me, each arguing about who's going to have the rare opportunity to work with The Chief on the Hysterectomy scheduled to take place next week when someone angrily barges into my office.
The sound of my doorknob hitting the wall startles the shit out of three of us and instantly shuts the two grown men sitting few meters away from me up. Finally! Those two Grey's Anatomy protagonists have been arguing since they both got to work.
On reflex, I look to the side at both men, their palms are clutching their chests, their eyes are widened towards the door and their mouths are hanging open.
Who could manage to pull such a reaction from my co-workers?
The first person to come to my mind who can exhibit such atrocious behavior is Brittany - she's the only one I know who doesn't knock. But if it were her, Trevor and Manuel would instantly invite her into their argument; they wouldn't look like they just saw Margot Robbie walk in.
I stop writing, purposefully taking my time before I take my eyes to the intruder, gracing him with my acknowledgement.
Tingles all over my body. My heart rate suddenly picks up speed. My bicep starts to thrum in accordance with my heartbeat.
Well, what the actual fuck? It might not be Margot Robbie, but it's someone equivalent to the celebrity...or even better.
It's that green-eyed man from three weeks ago.
And in these three weeks, I prayed, fasted - okay, I didn't do this - so that I'd never see his useless, annoying, triggering, mannerless, idiotic face that threatened to fire me ever again.
But for reasons known to the unknown, I kept...thinking about him. Now that I'm looking at him again though, I'm brushed by the possibility that it was because he'a very handsome. Did he become even hotter or do I still need that optician?
I didn't think about it much after he slammed the office door and left, because I was too busy hating on him, but once I plopped down on my bed to sleep that night, I came to terms with the fact that Amara was a hundred—and fifty—percent right.
I mean, it's not exactly like I planned to agree with my best friend about the rude man's good looks during my nap time. But my subconscious did. The fiendish thing went behind my back, captured the man's entire physique and played it for me in slo-mo over and over again as I laid on my bed, half-unconscious.
