Polly’s mouth drops open, her eyebrows hitting her hairline. “Savannah Samson, you are not telling me that you’re a VIRGIN.”
I groan, trying to hide from her behind a pillow. She rips it out of my hands, shaking her head at me.
“Girl, how?”
I bite my lip, cheeks heating. “I mean, look at me, Polly. I’m a mess.”
“Exactly, look at you,” she repeats my words back to me with a heavy emphasis that means “Don’t be an idiot.”
“You’re beautiful, Savvy. And kinder than anyone I know. Hell, you’ve given up your weekend to deal with me sobbing on you all day.”
My insecurity is so loud it drowns out her words. “No, you’re beautiful. I’d kill for your looks, your body, your confidence.”
Polly hits me with the pillow she took from my hands, a stern look on her tear-stained face. I sit there, shocked. “We are both beautiful,” she corrects me, waggling her finger in my face like I’m a bratty toddler. “Different, yeah, but that doesn’t mean you’re not drop-dead gorgeous, babe. For one, your curves? Drool.”
She points at my boobs, straining at the material of the pajamas she lent me when I stayed over. “Plus, even with your makeup all smudgy and your hair tangled, you’ve got the perfect cute-but-secretly-sexy thing going on.”
I scoff, but I’m smiling. Her words are kind, and I’m grateful to have a friend like her that makes this new version of my life feel less scary.
“One more chick flick, then I have to go,” I tell her, trying to steer the conversation away from me. “I start that new job on Monday, and I don’t want to fuck it up.”
“You’ll be amazing,” Polly assures me as she presses play on the TV. “If you’re as smart as you are sweet, there’s no way you won’t kill it.”
I try to keep her reassurance close to me as I call my taxi home, shower and shave, and eat the leftover pizza in my fridge. But when I wake up on Sunday, the nerves are impossible to ignore.
All day, I’m sure there’s something I’m forgetting. I read through the list the hiring manager sent over about a hundred times. I can probably repeat it from memory at this point. I’ve packed my bag over and over, making sure I have everything, though it’s not even that much. I set out my clothes, iron them meticulously, and set six different alarms in case I somehow go into a spontaneous coma overnight.
In fact, I barely sleep at all.
I twist and turn so much that I get tangled in the sheets and kick them off in frustration. My mind is a whirlwind of anxiety about tomorrow and longing for Sean. The small chunks of sleep I do get are filled with dreams of a deep voice in my ear and strong hands on my body, or nightmares of me falling and dropping piles of files or spilling hot coffee on the boss I haven’t even met.
When my first alarm goes off, I’m bleary-eyed and groaning. My muscles ache with deep-seated tension and my lips are chapped where I’ve nervously bitten them. I drag myself out of my destroyed bed, silence my alarm, and keep the water cold as I jump into the shower. The shock of the icy stream hitting my skin wakes me up a little, and by the time I’ve washed and dried off, I feel marginally more human.
I take my time applying makeup and styling my hair into a sleek bun that makes me look far more professional than I feel. I keep my makeup natural, adding concealer to hide the circles under my eyes and mascara that makes my lashes look full and swiping a glossy lip balm over my dry lips.
I dress in the new black pencil skirt and silky white blouse I bought myself, donning the outfit like armor. I stare at myself in the mirror, straightening my spine and slipping my feet into low black heels. I give myself a stern nod in my reflection, breathing out a long breath. I can do this.
On my way out of the door, I grab a granola bar and eat it on the way to my car. I’ve checked the directions a dozen times, but I’m still nervous about taking a wrong turn as I drive across the city to the office building.
It’s still early. I’m not technically supposed to be here for another twenty minutes, but there’s only a few spaces left in the parking lot. Thankfully, my car is small so I tuck it between two huge SUVs and step out.
My heels click on the concrete as I step up to the front door of the tall building. It’s a new, sleek design that mirrors the high-end companies inside. The email told me to collect a company ID from the front desk that would allow me to get past the interior door and take the elevator to the fifth floor. I repeat the instructions in my head, lips forming the words silently to steady myself.
Inside, the building is warm, not enough to be hot but enough that the thin jacket around my shoulders isn’t necessary. White floors, white walls, a white front desk all gleam, the smell of a floral perfume in the air. The woman at the front desk peers at me from around her computer screen.
“New girl for Smith & Sullivan?” she asks, a kind smile on her lips.
“Oh, yes,” I stutter out, cursing myself for losing my cool confident facade immediately. “How did you know?”
She winks at me before ducking her head to open a drawer beneath her desk. “It’s my job to know everything that goes on here,” she answers as she holds out my new employee ID to me. “Just tap it on the keypad at that door and head on up to floor five.”
“Thank you.” I grin at her, the ID in my hand feeling like a trophy. This job is my gateway to the life I want, security, steady pay, making a life for myself, and it finally feels real.
“Have a good first day!” the woman calls after me as I follow her instructions, tapping the card against the electronic box to the right of the interior door. It beeps, the light turning green, and lets me through.
The elevator is empty when I jump in, pressing the button labeledFloor Five - Smith & Sullivan. I remind myself to breathe, to smile, to act like I’m not freaking the fuck out all day. I’m still not ready when the doors open, but I step out with false confidence, entering the lobby of a huge office.
There’s a mix of large offices and conference rooms as well as desks and a waiting area at the front. I can see movement in the glass offices, people pacing and talking as they start work. The sound of keyboards clicking and male voices murmuring on a phone call combined with the smell of coffee and pastries, making the space a little less intimidating. I hover, unsure of where to go or what to do. The interview was over the phone. I’ve never been in here before.
