Chapter 2 Reconsidered

I toss and turn in my bed. Feeling anxious, I lifted the blanket aside and sat up, muttering to my best friend standing at the bedside. Best friends since moving to town when I was five. She was a pretty brunette, with curly hair, green eyes and tanned skin, almost like milk. I didn't like her, though we were in the same class back then. She always seems to be stuck up from a distance. We became friends after I saved her from the school bullies. I realized she was a nice person and boom; we became friends. She's more of a nerd than me.

"It was a dream right, Mirabelle."

"What are you talking about?" She asked

. "It all seems like a mystery itself," I said, sounding unsure about the whole thing. "Do you think he noticed me?" I muffed and groaned. This is driving me insane.

Shoving me, she said. "You're getting hit on by him."

"Oh, come on!" Mirabelle is impatient whatever she thinks she vomits out of her mouth. It scares me to tell her my puzzles.

That's never possible, as I imagine his class to be different. He's rich and accomplished. I stand no ground there." Yes, that was the actual truth. I can't dream of a man that my gender will kill for."

"It's been a week now, not even a mail," I said, my arms folded tightly around, the sour look on my face could have curdled cream.

"Maybe he'll choose you. Besides, he said you should come over, who knows," she said. I laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that.

"Don't give me false hope, I guess I'll have to start working at a restaurant," I said.

"You'll look good in it, who knows, big turnout huh," Mirabelle said.

"Mirabelle! Stop this explicit joke!" I wince at her deadpan, She shot me a knowing look, one tempered with gentle understanding which only irritated me further.

"You know what? Seeing you've gotten a job, which you'll, only if you'd go to his office, break your piggy bank and use your resources, to find you a new outfit for your work." She stalked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She took one sip, cringed at the bitter taste and dumped the rest in the sink.

"That is unnecessary." Hijacking the idea of her mind.

"Whatever." She said, grabbing her bag and walking out of the room.

'Are you gonna stay inside?' I got a text from her, I didn't want to offend her the more immediately I got dressed.

"You need to lighten up, you got a job starting there. It's on a six-month trial. Believe me, I'd do anything to keep seeing Ian if I were in your shoes." She said, grabbing my hand and walking off towards the nearest store.

Even though her comment doesn't phase me, she covers her mouth like she's sworn in front of a pope. "I shouldn't have said that."

I frown at her, confused. "What? Seeing Xander? Well, that's okay, I have a sense of humour, you know."

She shrugs."I know it's just-"

"I know." Keeping pace with her, I muttered. I know how she could be talkative.

She smiled, squeezing my arms. "I know, but this is a chance for you to go after what you want, the job, Ian, your mother's needs, and your bills. Maybe I'll be in the picture too." We chuckled and we walked down the road.

"You don't have to censor yourself around me. I know you, you're strong. Leslie, you can do this. Okay-" she said.

, Okay." I repeat after her and she grins.

How did we land here, anyway? I thought we were out shopping?"

Yes, she grabbed my hand again, this time warmly pulling me along to catch up. "Let's find you an outfit that'll make you look like the CEO of coastal so that when you walk through. Ian will acknowledge your presence. And appoint you."

It's been an hour, looking through racks of clothes I don't like. Trying to fit sure what to put on.

Mirabelle had a sleepover because she knows how disorganized I can be with planning. She's got a pile in her hands scrutinizing every detail which will fit my body.

You're going to go for something short, but not too short that your ass hangs out when you bend over. You feel me."

"For Christ's sake, this is work and not some partying." I'm not letting you wear your old stuff.

Mirabelle protested, but I walked towards my closet. "I think I've seen what to put on." Smiling sheepishly.

"For the first time, you've assumed something great." She said to arrange the piles of clothes in her hands.

"Do I even need to say it?" I turn, my eyes flicking playfully through how messy she looks. The time is almost over, and because of traffic, I'm supposed to be on the road already.

"You're late. This is 8:10." He said. "Six months trial the and first day you're slacking. People will kill to be in your position."

"I'm sorry sir."I apologized in a wistful voice. Knowing I'm bound to be hearing these words often now, I hate it, but I'm still

Xander is the best-looking, guy, I've seen in my entire life. Believe me, I've seen quite a few. He's tall and his athletic physique was obvious. His face is perfectly punctuated, with his high cheekbone and a pointed nose which actuates his modelling face. His lips are beautifully parted and look gorgeous. His upper lip forms an arch-like the top of a drawn heart. His eyes take my breath away. I tried to ignore him today, but I've found myself utterly consumed. They're deep blue with a flash of stunning green. His hair is deep black, in contrast, blending with his milky white skin and he looked irresistible in his white half-buttoned shirt.

It's amazing how personality can dent an iconic image. Do other people know he's an entitled, arrogant jerk? Or is this just my special trait?

I gawked at him as he typed something on his laptop, nibbling his lower lips. After standing there speechless, I let out the words.

"You seem to impress me. Remind me of your name again." He said with a blank look.

"Leslie Dawson." I can't even imagine. I admit I have a crush on him, but I can't even stand his attitude.

"Les, from today, you'll be my secretary." Looking out the window, he crossed over the ledge. He didn't seem to have randomly chosen me. He wanted me to be his secretary and he called me Les instead of my full name. But why?

"What?!" I stared pointedly at him. "Your secretary?" I asked again. I just came to beg him for a job.

"Are you having a problem with that?" He asked, raising his eyebrow. He glanced at his watch, indicating that there was only so much of this he was willing to listen to and he was already close to his limit.

"No, Sir. I'm just surprised." I tried repealing the reply. My eyes widened with the appropriate amount of surprise, as though I'd spent the past five minutes standing in front of a mirror practicing.

"I've reconsidered Leslie Dawson, I'm employed on the conditions you'll be my secretary for six months."