Grey

Ten

[RORY]

"Hey - hey wait, hang on."

I slowed down, not because I was being called - but because I had to wait for the elevator. I slammed my fingers against the button rapidly, knowing fully well that it wouldn't come any faster.

"What happened?"

I glanced over my shoulder as Jamie caught up with me, being his usual, nosy self. I could see that a few of my colleagues were staring in our direction as I hiked my bag further onto my shoulder.

"You're making a scene."

"I'm not, you did," he laughed breathlessly. "Why are you storming out?"

"Why are you breathing?"

He ignored me, huffing as he repeated his question.

"I'm not," I lied through my teeth, thankful as the elevator doors slid open. "I don't feel well. Now, if you'll excuse me."

He slipped beside me into the elevator as I groaned, hitting the button for the ground floor. We stood in silence as he stared at my profile, expecting an explanation. When I didn't offer one, he pressed.

"You know she likes testing people."

"She has been testing me for half a year," I snapped, the mere mention of Marisol making me want to rip my hair out. "This is the third time she's having me rewrite the same fucking review, like just trash it! And they aren't even edits, it's like, swapping words. For fun, her own sick enjoyment. She must get off being a miserable bitch. Fuck."

He was quiet long enough for me to look over, regretting it the minute I saw that he was trying not to laugh. I was fairly certain my head was going to explode, rushing out of the elevator the minute it stopped.

"Dude, chill," he shouted after me, holding his hand out so the door wouldn't close. "She's just in one of her moods."

"What's your excuse then?" I asked rhetorically, giving him the finger as I walked out of the lobby and into the parking lot.

I wasn't sure what had happened, but there had been a shift at work. I'd really thought that after the White Noise album review, Marisol respected my writing and trusted that I would continue to provide quality articles. On the contrary, she continued to give me shittier assignments and rip apart my drafts.

I was at a loss and so unbelievably tired - tired of breaking my back writing more than anyone else at the office, tired of spending every night surrounded by strangers who got to simply enjoy the concert they were at without having to take notes, tired of feeling like maybe I wasn't as good as I thought I was.

I slammed my car door, resting my forehead on the steering wheel as I shut my eyes and pretended to be somewhere far, far away. My breathing leveled out and my head cooled off as a few minutes passed in silent solitude, a vibration in my back pocket bringing me back down to earth.

I shifted in my seat, retrieving my phone and glancing at the screen. It was strange how quickly someone could go from being a complete stranger to a part of one's daily routine.

A consistent source of a smile, even.

I got head in a classroom after school. Oops.

I knew he'd just wrapped soundcheck and was backstage in Louisiana somewhere, smirking proudly. When he told me he'd gotten kicked out of boarding school, I expected a very Finn explanation - smoking a cigarette in his room, stumbling in drunk past curfew, accidentally talking back to a teacher.

His admission made my skin hot and my pulse quicken in a way I loathed, feeling like a teenager again. I blamed my heightened emotional state coming into the conversation for my vivid imagination, picturing his eyes fluttering shut, lips parting with a throaty groan of pleasure.