Notes from Rosewood

Fuck! Who moved the sofa? Seriously. Did someone come in whilst I was sleeping and rearrange my house? “You just ran into something didn’t you?” Layla, basically my emotional support plant laughs at me down the phone. She knows me well enough to know I’m a liability to everyone and everything surrounding me when I’m running late. I roll my eyes, refusing to answer her whilst I try and find my shoe. I swear elves live in my house terrorising me.

Why aren’t my keys in my bag? Weren’t they there a second ago? Did they evaporate? “Stupid alarm clock with its stupid batteries assuming I’m adult enough to roll out of bed by myself.” I mumble, completely forgetting that Layla’s laughing at my pain.

“You’re mumbling. Tick Tock Dai, you don’t want Janet to ream you out again.” Janet the office battle axe. You only have to breath and you’re doing it wrong; she walks around with her little slips waiting to write you up for the tiniest infractions. She obviously needs some love in her life, maybe she won’t be so uptight then, I’ll die before I tell her that though.

“Okay, right. Shoes on. Check. Purse. Check. Keys. Erm, somewhere. Oh. There in my hand, durr. Dignity… Questionable. Good to go? Not likely.” I rush out my door, hoping I locked it properly and I’m not going to come home to a psychotic roommate, although knowing my luck that’s a possibility.

“Don’t get hit by a truck on your way in.”

“Jeez. Thanks, Lay. See you soon.” Checking my watch, I see I’ve missed my train, the next one isn’t for another hour. It’s fine, I can walk fast. Or run. No, running is suspicious. Speed walking like a stressed librarian is more my speed. It also has the added bonus of me not looking like a dying hippo desperate to get back to water. A win win. It’s only a thirty-minute walk to the office, I can make it and not kill myself, right? Guess we’ll find out.

I can see Rosewood Publishing’s doors just ahead, if I can survive a few more feet, I can officially say I made it to work without any incidents, well apart from a minor one where I nearly killed a cyclist but that doesn’t count. In my defence who cycles into the path of a walking disaster anyway? That’s like deciding you’ll gamble walking a tightrope between a cliff with no harness. Pure madness. I can’t be held accountable for that. He managed to live so I’ll be celebrating my victory with a cookie, well because, come on, cookies are superior. I just need to get to my floor without bumping into Tristan. Please don’t let me bump into him. Please…

My head bounces off what can only be described as a brick building that’s layered in the strongest material known to man. Jesus. My vision fills with white spots and pretty pictures. Did I give myself a concussion walking into something again? God I’d never hear the end of it from Layla, she already loves that I’ve done that, not once. Twice. How is this my life.

I peer up looking at the house I just ran into, not remotely bothered about sitting on the dirty ground, when my whole-body freezes, I didn’t run into a building at all. My eyes travel the length of his body, pristine Oxfords that I could eat off gleam in the light, strong powerful legs hidden in black slacks, what I imagine is a lean solid chest unfortunately covered in expensive fabric, before landing on the most dazzling face. His sharp blue eyes pierce into me, his hair immaculate. I briefly wonder what product he uses to keep it that way before shaking my head. My eyes automatically widen. Oh, brilliant Daisy. Body check the CEO, your insanely handsome boss. That’s how normal people behave.

We just stare at each other for the moment, the Greek god standing, looking down on the frazzled peasant at his feet. “Hi,” I squeak. Hi? Really? I pinch the bridge of my nose wishing I were still in bed. I’m absolutely mortified so of course this is the perfect time for my brain to malfunction.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry, I didn’t see – I wasn’t looking. I swear I’m… Sorry. Sorry.” My words tumble out in panicked embarrassment, my checks red and hot. He looks down on me still sat on the floor, his face impossible to read, his expression locked up so tight you’ll never guess what he’s thinking. I scramble to my feet, wobbling a little. “Sorry.”

Yep, perfect. Apologise again. Maybe I can apologise for apologising, that will help. “I swear I’m not usually this chaotic. Well, I am, but not…” I wave my hands around frantically. “This. I’m so sorry.” Why are words still coming out of my mouth? Who authorised this? “I mean, you practically threw me on the ground, what do you have under there? Bricks?” Jesus Christ, stop talking Daisy. No seriously. Stop talking!

Either he’s having a stroke or he’s trying to contain his laugh. If the floor could open up and swallow me, that would be ideal. Anytime now. He doesn’t say a word to me, doesn’t accept my rambling apology, he just looks into my eyes completely unfazed and emotionless. “Erm. Bye.” I practically run away like my arse is on fire, my face is scarlet and I’m sure my feet forgot how to work but I somehow manage to make it to my desk. Just in time for battle axe Janet to corner me and fry the rest of my brain cells.

I groan looking at her toad face, she desperately needs to get laid. “You’re late.”

“Yep.” I drown out whatever else she’s been saying, I don’t bother explaining that I ran our boss over then word vomited all over him. I take the slip and shoo her away rubbing my temples, today’s already been too long. I should have known it wouldn’t be long before Layla would bounce in with her hectic energy looking perfectly put together. Her only saving grace is the tea in her hands. She hands me my favourite cup and makes herself comfortable, knowing full well that I’ll break the silence before she does. “Ugh. I want to crawl in a hole and die.”

She gives me her stink eye, the one that says, ‘get on with it then.’ Makes me want to punch her ridiculously beautiful face. “You obviously had a much more enjoyable morning than I thought Dai, spill.”

“I keep replaying the last five minutes in my head like some humiliation highlight reel. I actually bumped into him. Tristan Hale. The Tristan Hale… Our boss. And then I apologised like I’d personally committed a crime against humanity. Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry. I sounded like a malfunctioning Roomba Lay.” She bursts out laughing. “Then I just ran, my legs just decided to activate flight mode, and I bolted like I’d seen a tax collector.”

“Oh, this is gold. Please continue.”

I bury my still reddened face in my hands and say, “He definitely thinks I’m weird, or unstable, or both.” I sigh. “Great. Love that for me. I doubt he even knew who I was, I mean, why would he? He’s… him and well, I’m me. A walking apology in a cardigan. He probably thinks I’m an intern who escaped supervision, or a lost child. I’m never leaving my desk again. I live here now; this is my home. Make sure you bring me snacks.

“You should have your own TV show. You could be making millions with the situations you get into and how you explain them. I love the fuck out of you, but Dai, despite what you think you’re not forgettable. Yes, you’re a little scattered and awkward, yes, you’re super shy around people and put your foot in your mouth most of the time but you’re amazing, one of the best people I know.” She lets the silence between us linger for a moment before saying, “I doubt he’ll forget this morning… A malfunctioning Roomba. Really?” She bursts out laughing again and before I know it, I’m laughing with her.