The homeless girl and the CEO

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Chapter Twenty One

Leah's POV


"Fuck" I muttered falling back on my bed after trying to get up for the third time. I desperately needed to pee but my upper body won't communicate with my lower body.


Gabbing my head in my hands as the world spins out of control.


Is this the end?


"Finally you're up," an assertive voice scolds me.


Peering through one eye, to see Mrs. Sanchez staring down at me with an unreadable expression.


Shutting my eyes quickly, not ready for any more rebuke, after having to be judge by the great Jordan Branson.


Jordan!


Sitting up quickly, I look around realizing I was in my own apartment above Rosie's garage.


Frowning, how did I get here?


"What happen," I mumble lifting dull eyes to Mrs. Sanchez.


Shrugging, Mrs. Sanchez shook her head, "I was hoping you tell me," Mrs. Sanchez retorts, clearly upset with me and I honestly cannot blame her. "Why you would drink so much to put yourself in such a pathetic state." Mrs. Sanchez don't mince her words when reprimanding anyone, that much I have learnt and she is a fair woman.


Struggling, I adjusted myself to sit upright, against the back of the couch.


I wanted to ask how I got here when the last thing I remember, I was telling Jordan off for hating someone who has not love for herself.


"Where's Rosie?" I asked instead, aware that Rosie couldn't have brought me all the way upstairs.


Neatening her dress, Mrs. Sanchez stood to giving me a disapproving nod.


"Do you need help to the bathroom or should I assist you?" She asks calmly. I hate how I have fallen in her eyes and accepting help to the shower would make me feel much worse.


Shifting my feet, "I can do it," I responded, standing and falling back because of how light my head felt.


"I can do it." I said again, refusing the hand that Mrs. Sanchez stretched out to me.


Thankful my apartment is small so crawling alongside the wall towards the bathroom would not have been difficult, if my head was on straight.


I dug in the cupboard provided in the unoccupied room that's suppose to be a bedroom and pulled out a towel and a fresh change of clothes.


Looking down at what I presently wore, when did I change?


Dressed in only a T-shirt and underwear, I undress an entered the shower, with thousands of questions running through my head and already planning to go job hunting tomorrow, or maybe the day after.


Gathering my dirty clothes to make a trip to the laundromat later, I took a clean set of sheet to change later.


I no longer live in a house of luxury so I have to keep my place clean at all costs.


Even with a hangover!


Mrs. Sanchez was busy in the kitchen, doing God knows what so I took off my bedsheets and folded my bed into a couch so that it will have more sitting space, while smelling my sheets ensuring I didn't puke during the night.


"We can go out for lunch," I suggested despite my headache. "I have to take some clothes to the laundromat anyway." I said but Mrs. Sanchez didn't respond.


Dressed in a short soft pants and an oversized T-shirt, I smiled warmly at Mrs. Sanchez who approached me with a glass full of yellow liquid that didn't look like juice.


"Drink up," she instructed me and I obeyed her since arguing with her is not an option right now and my head was throbbing.



If Mrs. Sanchez wasn't here, I would have just crawled to the bathroom and slept the day through.


I swallowed two tablets that didn't belong to me either.


"So you want to talk?" She asks softly.


Lowering my eyes, I shook my head and smiled wryly, "I was just feeling sorry for myself," I shrugged at my stupidity because telling Jordan off last night seem like the best thing but I could only do it drunk but telling Mrs. Sanchez that would make things worst.


An look now, I'm the one dealing with the backlash.


"And what did Jordan have to do with it?" She asks just as calmly.


My head jerked up, "Jordan?" I frowned, shaking my head. Why would she blame Jordan? Did Jordan call her like he called Rosie when I was yelling outside the club last night?


Shaking my head, "not.. uh nothing." I responded. "My meltdown has nothing to do with him." I told her truthfully, "I am just my own worst enemy." I chuckle, unaware that I said it out loud.


For the first times since I opened my eyes to see Mrs. Sanchez in my apartment, her smile soften towards me.


"Why would you say that?" Mrs. Sanchez frowns, her eyes knitted together with concern.


Chuckling, "I don't know, really but I end up in situations and I don't know how, or why." I laugh nervously.


"I'm sorry that last night turned out so bad that you and I can't spend quality time together." I apologize because I made plans and I am no good to myself right now.


Chuckling, Mrs. Sanchez stood up, "I know you want to sleep so I will take my leave but I had to remain and ensure you were okay before I left," she explain.


Looking at the window, "what time is it?" I asked softly.


With a comforting smile, "it's almost lunchtime." Mrs. Sanchez responds, much to my dismay.


Sitting upright, "oh my God, I promised you lunch," I was appalled to know how badly I messed up.


Covering my face, "when I think I am stronger and better, something happens to push me backwards." I lamented.


Pulling my hands from my face, Mrs. Sanchez sat beside me, "tell me Leah, tell me what happen to upset you?"


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