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I walk slowly along the sidewalk, the weight of the world, or at least, the weight of these d*mn binders, pressing down on my shoulders.
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Why did I volunteer to lug all this paperwork home again? Oh right, because my boss thinks I’m some kind of workaholic superhero who can’t say no to a few extra files.
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I glance at the towering office building up ahead, my stomach knotting with dread.
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Another day, another dollar, right? Except these days, it feels more like another day, another mountain of paperwork waiting to bury me alive.
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As I reach the entrance, I curse under my breath as I struggle to pull open the heavy door with my elbow. Seriously, why are these doors so freaking heavy? Did they hire the Hulk as their doorman or something? "How am I going to pass through with these heavy binders," I said to my myself.
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Suddenly, out of nowhere, this tall, tanned, and ridiculously handsome man strolls up beside me.
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It felt like heavens had sent him my way.
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And as luck would have it, we both reach for the door at the same time. I figure, hey, might as well take advantage of the situation, right?
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So, I give it my best sprinter’s start and dart ahead, thinking I’ve won the race.
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But oh no, not so fast, June. Mr. Hottie has other plans. With a sassy smile that could melt icebergs, he decides to play a little game of door tag.
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He lets go of the handle just as I’m about to pass through, and BAM! The door slams right into my shoulder, sending my binders flying everywhere.
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Seriously, dude? What’s your problem?
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I spin around, ready to give this guy a piece of my mind. “Hey, watch where you’re going, you—” But before I can unleash the full force of my righteous fury, I catch sight of his infuriatingly perfect face, and all my words evaporate into thin air.
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He had defined cheekbones, titan shoulders and sea-rover-blue eyes.
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Great, now I’m not only angry, I’m also tongue-tied. Just what I needed.
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He smirks, clearly enjoying the show. “Oops, my bad,” he says, his voice deep, dripping with sarcasm. “Didn’t see you there. Guess I’ll have to be more careful next time.”
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Oh, hell no. This guy did not just pull the old “I didn’t see you” routine on me. Not today, buddy. I square my shoulders, summoning every ounce of courage I can muster.
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“Listen here, mister,” I begin, my voice dripping with venom. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just go around slamming doors into people’s shoulders and—”
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But he cuts me off with a laugh, raising an eyebrow in mock amusement. “Wow, feisty one, aren’t you? I like it. That's hot!”
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I feel my blood boiling with anger as he continues to smirk at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Ugh, why does he have to be so d*mn attractive? It’s like the universe is playing some cruel joke on me.
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But I refuse to back down. Not now, not ever. I may be small, but I’m fierce, dammit.
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And if this guy thinks he can mess with me and get away with it, he’s got another thing coming.
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I narrow my eyes at Mr. Hotshot, my irritation reaching boiling point. “Listen here, buddy,” I snap, jabbing a finger in his direction.
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“I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just go around acting like a total jerk and expect me to just stand here and take it.”
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He raises an eyebrow, his smirk faltering slightly. “I was just trying to have a little fun. No need to get all worked up about it. By the way you got an insane body, but in a grandma outfit? That's laughable.” He laughs, his tone mocking.
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“Stop talking about my body like that! You Perv!” I retort, my voice dripping with anger. “Well, forgive me for not finding your little game of door-slamming and sexual innuendos all that amusing. Newsflash, buddy: it’s not cute, it’s not funny, and it’s definitely not welcome.”
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He chuckles, clearly unfazed by my outburst. “Wow, someone’s got a chip on their shoulder,” he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Lighten up, sweetheart. Life’s too short to take everything so seriously.”
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I feel my blood boiling with rage, his condescending tone only serving to fuel the flames of my anger. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I shoot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize you were the authority on how I should live my life. Silly me, I must have forgotten to check with you before I decided to exist.”
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He opens his mouth to reply, but I don’t give him the chance. I’ve had enough of this guy and his arrogant attitude.
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With a huff of frustration, I pick up the binders and I turn on my heel and storm away, refusing to waste another second of my precious time on him.
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As I make my way towards the elevator, I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my head, but I refuse to look back.
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I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me flustered or upset. He may have won the battle, but I’ll be damned if he wins the war.
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I step into the elevator, my heart still pounding from my encounter with Mr. Hotshot. Seriously, what is it with guys like him? You’d think being drop-dead gorgeous would come with a side of basic human decency, but apparently not.
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As the doors slide shut, I lean back against the wall and let out a frustrated sigh. Why do I always seem to attract the jerks? Is there some kind of invisible sign above my head that says, “Please, feel free to treat me like crap”?
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I shake my head, trying to shake off the lingering annoyance. It’s not worth getting worked up over some random guy who clearly has no manners or respect for personal space.
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But still, it stings. It always stings, no matter how many times it happens. Because deep down, I can’t help but wonder if there’s something wrong with me. Am I too loud? Too opinionated? Not pretty enough? Not modest enough?
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I glance at my reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator, scrutinizing every flaw and imperfection. My hair is a mess, my clothes are wrinkled, and there’s a smear of lipstick on my cheek that I missed earlier. Yep, definitely not winning any beauty contests today.
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But you know what? Screw that. Screw all of it. I may not be perfect, but I’m d*mn sure not going to let some overgrown man-child make me feel like I’m less than. I’m Juniper Johnson, d*mn it, and I refuse to be anyone’s punching bag.
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“I'm so done with today and it hasn't even started yet,” I said, stepping out of the elevator.
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