Lori

A loud, steady beep, jarring and piercing, cuts through the air, making my senses jerk to attention. The sound is persistent and impossible to ignore.

I bite down on my dry, sticky mouth with a soul taste at the increasingly harsh, high pitch of the alarm. It's like scraping metal on the concrete -- the sound that makes you recoil and want to cover your ears because they might bleed.

Realizing that it won't stop, I reach over the nightstand and slap the screen, hoping I got the 'snooze' and not the 'stop' button.

I still need to wake up; I just need a few more moments of bliss. The gentle velvety sheets and cozy mattress welcoming my body are not helping my case either.

The silenced alarm is a gentle though temporary relief because a second later, there's pounding in my skull, and my eyes burn at the sensation of the warm sunlight striking my face. A groan leaves my lips; I should have pulled down the blinds, I think past my drumming skull.

I'm only starting to drift back to sleep when the beeping from the alarm starts again.

"Please," I find myself groggily complaining as my eyes flare open. I'm met with blinding rays of sunlight, but after blinking twice, the view of the city's skyline with towering skyscrapers becomes clear.

The familiar dark, rich shades of charcoal gray on the other side of the room greet me, confirming all the while that I'm not in my apartment.

I'm somewhere worse.

Despite the dizziness and fatigue in my bones, I turn to where Julian peacefully sleeps. His head with sandy blonde hair resting on his torn arm, stubble and mustache sprawling from his otherwise square jawline, and I notice the gentle snores from his nose.

He looks like he will flutter his bright green eyes anytime now, so I look away, nursing my nausea and stomach cramps that are threatening to unleash a vile puke.

What have I done? How did we end up here? Did we reconcile? Was it just a lapse?

I rack my brain for answers, but it's hazy, and my head won't stop hurting. I sit up gently enough not to wake him, my eyes scanning the room once more.

I've been to his penthouse once or twice before, and the fact that he refuses to change a thing is shocking.

I notice a pile of my clothes on the floor, and I leap to pick them up. I grab my phone, the one shoe in sight, and stroll into the living area.

A glance at my low-battery phone says I have less than fifteen minutes to get to work. I quickly dress up and make a beeline for the door, ignoring the beautiful chandelier that's hanging from the middle of the room. That one's new.

I grab the key card hung just right next to the door---some things never change---and head out. I can feel the air filling my lungs again when I step into the elevator.

But that is short-lived because as soon as my eyes fall upon Michelle, all the air is knocked out of my lungs.

The woman standing on one corner of the boxed-up ride has her arms crossed over her chest, a white blouse clings to the top of her body, and the bottom is covered in black leggings. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek low ponytail---no strand out of place even when she seems to have come from a workout session.

I swallow, offering a curt wave.

"Lorian," Michelle mutters and returns her attention to the beeping numbers.

Michelle, Julian's neighbor, is one of those people you meet and can never forget, even if you try.

"I didn't think you'd still be showing up here," she continues, not taking the hint that I would rather die than have an elevator conversation with her.

"Me neither." I breathe, my eyes snap to the elevator mirrors, and I catch her eyes piercing through my skull. Her nose is upturned, like she is trying hard to not breathe in polluted material.

God, she doesn't even try to hide her judgmental gaze.

Well, guess what, sis? I'm already giving myself a hard time finding myself back in his bed. I don't even know how we ended up there.

Obviously, Zoey has all the information with backup photos and videos for proof, but she is likely still sleeping and not being a morning person; she might just gauge my eyes out for waking her.

My posture through the reflection is still uncomfortable, and that of discomfort. That's exactly how I feel.

Even when I'm standing as far away from Michelle, I can still feel the thickness of the air between us, threatening to strangle me by the neck.

My gaze is fixed on the painfully slow-moving floor numbers; I can feel Michelle's judgy eyes on me even when I'm not looking. Her presence and proximity seem to take up so much space, and there's nothing more I want to do than step out of this God-forsaken thing.

I can't believe she is making my skin crawl like this. This is not okay.

"Quit staring," my inner thoughts lash out as words, and I find myself groaning because I'm unable to hold them back.

"No," Michelle responds, her voice rubbing badly on my nerves.

I roll my eyes and look away. It feels like decades, but the elevator finally comes to a stop and the doors open. Michelle sucks in a deep breath after mine of relief as we both step out.

"Well, I'd say it was nice seeing you, but I don't lie," she says, and before I can respond, she turns on her heels, her black pumps squeaking annoyingly against the floors.

"Same," I mutter between gritted teeth.

I unplug my phone from my jeans pockets, peaking at the time while I wave down an Uber.

[Guess who I ran into, Skitty Michelle. Anyway, please call me when you see this. And wy did you leave my drunken ass with Julian?]

I text Zoey when I'm finally in the taxi. I notice the typo on why, but I don't bother correcting it.

When I get to my apartment building, I want to scream at the building manager for having cameras but not fixing the elevators.

I take the stairs to my second-floor, one-room apartment with a tiny bathroom and toilet area. Brushing my teeth and wiping with a paper towel under my armpit, I put on some deodorant and roll on.

I slip into the nearest light pink and dark pink outfit I can find and head back downstairs.

Why did I think fifteen minutes would be enough for me to sneak out of my ex's bed, catch a cab to my apartment, shower, and get to work?

It takes ten minutes to get through traffic and into town. I don't even bother to grab my coffee even when I know I will be irritable and dysfunctional.

When I get to the office, Landon has saved a seat for me in the boardroom next to him.

I can feel Mr. Navarro's piercing dark eyes on me when he says, "You're late."

I swallow, my eyes darting around the table to be certain before I respond.

She is not here yet. Awesome!

"And yet, I'm earlier than some," I say, a smile mocking my face.

++

Do you like??

Or you don't?

Anyway, have fun with the first chapter!