The meet
“As sweet as you are, Amanda, I can never be with you. You're just not enough for me.”
Those words were the last ones he ever spoke to me and the last words that I would ever let break me.
Hi, I'm Amanda Brittney Smith, and this is my life.
“Amanda, I need those files!” My boss yells. I perk up from my desk. “Yes, right away, ma’am!” I chirp back, gathering the loose files from my table and stacking them neatly on top of each other. Standing quickly, I pick up the stack and hurry into my boss's office.
I set them gently on the mahogany surface. “Here you are, alphabetized as asked!” My boss smiles at me. I take in her features for what seems like the millionth time. Long black curly hair frames her slim face. Her eyes are doe-shaped; a beautiful hazel makes her irises. Her perfect, unblemished Carmel skin has a gorgeous glow to it no matter the time of day. Straight white teeth always glimmer when she smiles. All in all, she is every guy's dream woman.
“Thank you, Amanda. I can always count on you. Go ahead and have the remainder of the day off; you earned it.” Did I forget to mention she is very generous and kind? No matter how angry she may be, she never lets that show on her face. She ‘doesn’t want her mood to compromise her staff’s work environment.’
As I gather up my stuff to head home, a loud–and rather annoying— voice calls out to me. I don't even have to look at the person to know who it is. Bianca Thomas, or Bratty B as my coworkers call her. She is the embodiment of a stereotypical high school queen bee. Blonde, skinny, white, blue eyes, big tits, and a horrible bratty stuck-up attitude. Her father is the CEO of Thomas Enterprises, so it makes sense that she is like this, though it gets rather disappointing at times.
Her well-manicured hands clasp my biceps and wrench me around to face her. Her light hair is in a beehive hairdo; her face is surprisingly not caked in makeup, only having some light mascara and clear lipgloss smeared on her lips. “Guess what?” she asks in her high-pitched voice. I sigh, “What, Bianca?” Her grip gets tighter. I wince in discomfort. “Nico asked me to marry him!” she squeals out, vibrating in excitement. I look at her in shock. Nico? Nico Varacrov? as in the heir to the Cora Enterprises, Nico Varacrov?
“Wow, I never saw that coming. Congratulations!” I say enthusiastically. I know, I know. Me, being nice to a girl I called annoying, but in all honesty, I don’t have a problem with her. She is not that bad. Sometimes.
“I know! And I wanted to ask you something.” I tilt my head in confusion. “Okay, what is it?” She smiles like a maniac. “Will you be my maid of honor?” My eyes widen. Me? As a maid of honor? I blink rapidly. “Um..yeah, of course,” I say after a moment of contemplation. What could go wrong? She squeals and jumps up and down. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I was afraid you would say no. As you may know, no one here really likes me all that well, so every woman I asked rudely turned me down or flat out ignored me.” I look at her with sadness. I knew not many people liked her, but they don’t have to be that blatant about it.
My smile seems to calm her slightly. “Hey, let me give you my number. Can't have the maid of honor not having a say in the preparations, right?” Bianca says. I nod and pull my phone out, handing it to her. She types in her number and saves it to my phone. Once she hands it back to me, I text her, so she has my number. “Ok, see you soon, Am’.” She calls out, walking away from me. I smile and shake my head.
The breaks of the public bus screech out as it comes to a halt. I hastily get out of my seat, thank the driver and exit the bus.
I clutch my coat closer to me as I walk home. Even in the daylight the streets of Manhattan are bitterly cold in the dead of winter. As I walk the familiar streets my mind runs. What is ma doing? Is she good? How about pops?
Those words were the last ones he ever spoke to me and the last words that I would ever let break me.
Hi, I'm Amanda Brittney Smith, and this is my life.
“Amanda, I need those files!” My boss yells. I perk up from my desk. “Yes, right away, ma’am!” I chirp back, gathering the loose files from my table and stacking them neatly on top of each other. Standing quickly, I pick up the stack and hurry into my boss's office.
I set them gently on the mahogany surface. “Here you are, alphabetized as asked!” My boss smiles at me. I take in her features for what seems like the millionth time. Long black curly hair frames her slim face. Her eyes are doe-shaped; a beautiful hazel makes her irises. Her perfect, unblemished Carmel skin has a gorgeous glow to it no matter the time of day. Straight white teeth always glimmer when she smiles. All in all, she is every guy's dream woman.
“Thank you, Amanda. I can always count on you. Go ahead and have the remainder of the day off; you earned it.” Did I forget to mention she is very generous and kind? No matter how angry she may be, she never lets that show on her face. She ‘doesn’t want her mood to compromise her staff’s work environment.’
As I gather up my stuff to head home, a loud–and rather annoying— voice calls out to me. I don't even have to look at the person to know who it is. Bianca Thomas, or Bratty B as my coworkers call her. She is the embodiment of a stereotypical high school queen bee. Blonde, skinny, white, blue eyes, big tits, and a horrible bratty stuck-up attitude. Her father is the CEO of Thomas Enterprises, so it makes sense that she is like this, though it gets rather disappointing at times.
Her well-manicured hands clasp my biceps and wrench me around to face her. Her light hair is in a beehive hairdo; her face is surprisingly not caked in makeup, only having some light mascara and clear lipgloss smeared on her lips. “Guess what?” she asks in her high-pitched voice. I sigh, “What, Bianca?” Her grip gets tighter. I wince in discomfort. “Nico asked me to marry him!” she squeals out, vibrating in excitement. I look at her in shock. Nico? Nico Varacrov? as in the heir to the Cora Enterprises, Nico Varacrov?
“Wow, I never saw that coming. Congratulations!” I say enthusiastically. I know, I know. Me, being nice to a girl I called annoying, but in all honesty, I don’t have a problem with her. She is not that bad. Sometimes.
“I know! And I wanted to ask you something.” I tilt my head in confusion. “Okay, what is it?” She smiles like a maniac. “Will you be my maid of honor?” My eyes widen. Me? As a maid of honor? I blink rapidly. “Um..yeah, of course,” I say after a moment of contemplation. What could go wrong? She squeals and jumps up and down. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I was afraid you would say no. As you may know, no one here really likes me all that well, so every woman I asked rudely turned me down or flat out ignored me.” I look at her with sadness. I knew not many people liked her, but they don’t have to be that blatant about it.
My smile seems to calm her slightly. “Hey, let me give you my number. Can't have the maid of honor not having a say in the preparations, right?” Bianca says. I nod and pull my phone out, handing it to her. She types in her number and saves it to my phone. Once she hands it back to me, I text her, so she has my number. “Ok, see you soon, Am’.” She calls out, walking away from me. I smile and shake my head.
The breaks of the public bus screech out as it comes to a halt. I hastily get out of my seat, thank the driver and exit the bus.
I clutch my coat closer to me as I walk home. Even in the daylight the streets of Manhattan are bitterly cold in the dead of winter. As I walk the familiar streets my mind runs. What is ma doing? Is she good? How about pops?
I don’t realize I have arrived home until my neighbor yells from his open window. “Amanda! Where are you going? You just passed the door!” I stop and lookup. His greying hair offsets his dark skin, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth tell a story of happiness and laughter. I smile “ Ah, thank you, Mr. Gardner! Have a wonderful rest of your day!” I call out. He chuckles and goes about his business.
My hand shakes slightly with cold as I pull out my keys.
I rush to get inside into the warmth. The lock clicks, and I push the door open and quickly close it behind me. I exhale loudly and make my way up to the third floor.
Once I enter my apartment, I take off my coat and boots. I set my keys and put them on the counter, and go into my bedroom in search of clean clothes.
After a hot shower, I make myself a cup of tea and lounge on my couch, watching my favorite show, Riverdale.
A knock has me pausing the most recent episode. I get up and look through the spyglass. A man in all black stands outside my door. “Who is it?” I ask. A moment of silence and then the deepest, most attractive, most pleasurable voice speaks. “I am here to talk to Amanda Smith. Please get her and have her open the door.”
I take a deep breath and crack the door open. “Hello? I’m Amanda Smith….what do you need?” I timidly ask. He looks at me, or rather what he can see. “Ms. Smith, please open the door all the way; the matter I wish to speak to you about is critical.” My eyes widen. What could be so important that he needs to see me fully?
I huff a breath and open the door the rest of the way.
My hand shakes slightly with cold as I pull out my keys.
I rush to get inside into the warmth. The lock clicks, and I push the door open and quickly close it behind me. I exhale loudly and make my way up to the third floor.
Once I enter my apartment, I take off my coat and boots. I set my keys and put them on the counter, and go into my bedroom in search of clean clothes.
After a hot shower, I make myself a cup of tea and lounge on my couch, watching my favorite show, Riverdale.
A knock has me pausing the most recent episode. I get up and look through the spyglass. A man in all black stands outside my door. “Who is it?” I ask. A moment of silence and then the deepest, most attractive, most pleasurable voice speaks. “I am here to talk to Amanda Smith. Please get her and have her open the door.”
I take a deep breath and crack the door open. “Hello? I’m Amanda Smith….what do you need?” I timidly ask. He looks at me, or rather what he can see. “Ms. Smith, please open the door all the way; the matter I wish to speak to you about is critical.” My eyes widen. What could be so important that he needs to see me fully?
I huff a breath and open the door the rest of the way.
