Second Impressions 2: Second Choices

OLIVIA

Rise and shine. Rise and shine. Rise and shine.

My hand slapped the nightstand like I was swatting a fly, my phone’s alarm persistently buzzing as if dodging my aim until it tumbled to the floor.

Ugh. I heaved my upper body out of bed, my head throbbing in sync with the relentless alarm.

Mental note: no more tequila.

Feeling like crap was definitely going to be the theme of the day, judging by the way I dragged myself out of bed onto the cool floor.

There you are, you little devil. I hit the off button, sighing in relief, and checked my messages.

I sent Thomas a selfie of my puffy face.

I stared at the picture. Damn, I looked like a fish out of water, my eyes swollen and radiating a melancholic spark.

Yeah, an allergic reaction to Darius Rothschild.

I headed to the bathroom to start my day, his face haunting my thoughts.

Damn it, how do I get this guy out of my head?

I started laughing as soon as I read my friend’s latest message. Eww, Thomas was well-endowed too?

Tears were welling up in my eyes again. Thomas started typing.

It did feel that way. I was nervous. Today, AgiNovel was finally opening its doors to the world in a physical location.

And my friend was right. Today was about my future, not my past. AgiNovel was finally open. My startup was finally here, it was real; and it was mine.

Well, not exactly mine, only a part. With the level of investment poured into the company, I didn’t hold the majority of the shares, but that was the trade-off I made for growth.

And that wasn’t the point. The point was that today I got to be a powerful Ollie.

Screw my depressing reflection in the mirror! Screw it all! Today I got to be the Ollie in charge!

Not just the Ollie that struggled, no, not anymore. This time I got to change my narrative and reap the benefits of my hard work. Soon.

I started typing “makeup to reduce puffy face” on my search bar as my friend’s words echoed in my mind.

Yes, this day was about me, and I had to get into the right mindset, and that started by looking my best.

“Smoky eyes it is,” I decided, forcing a smile at my reflection in the mirror.

Damn, this makeup better work.

I mean, how much worse can it get? Why tempt fate?

But it was inevitable. I tried following an online tutorial, and it didn’t go as planned.

Let’s just say I was aiming for a casual-professional-hide-my-puffy-eyes look and ended up with Avril-Lavigne-skater-boy-meets-corpse-bride vibes.

FML

I was minutes away from stepping into the new office for the first time since we agreed on a modest space on the third floor of a beautiful building near Soho.

My only goal for the day was to keep it together and prepare to face Seline and Co. Maybe the grunge look would help keep people at bay today.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that.

The morning walk cleared my head, and I was feeling better when I arrived at my destination.

Actually, I was excited. I walked into the lobby feeling like I was stepping into my future.

Yes, finally! After everything that had happened, something was on my side, my business idea.

“Mama, look! A raccoon lady!” A small boy pointed at me.

I bared my teeth, imitating an animal. The boy started crying, and his mother quickly pulled him away from me.

For heaven’s sake, Ollie. Scaring little kids?

Maybe he deserved it. Wait, no, what are you even thinking? You’re going to be an aunt soon. Ugh.

I should probably have stayed home. I had to find a way to switch off this rollercoaster mood-swing mode so I could save myself from making more irrational decisions.

I composed myself and continued walking to the front desk security, promising myself I wouldn’t growl or bare my teeth at anyone else.

Yeah, Ollie, keep it together. Today was about being professional. Today was about projecting a good image.

A good image indeed, Ollie. The security guy was checking out my legs.

Maybe this skirt was too short for daytime. He raised his hands, signaling me to stop as if sensing I didn’t have an access card.

Using my flirtatious smile and a sudden distraction from a woman who dropped her bag at the other side of the security counter, I quickly walked into the elevator, making it just in time before the doors closed.

A lady, probably in her sixties, with cat-eye glasses, looked at me with a peculiar smile.

“Floor, dear?”

“Third floor, please,” I replied politely.

“Oh, then we are going to the same floor,” she muttered, adjusting her red eyeglasses, but I could tell she was watching me from the corner of her eye.

“Running away from something?”

“Does trouble count?” I snorted, and soon the elevator announced our floor with a distinctive ping.

We stepped out of the elevator and started walking in the same direction, our heels clicking in unison on the marble floor.

Was I on the wrong floor? Where was my office?

The cat-eye lady stepped forward, opening the door to the space I originally chose as I read a sign that said Jones Greene & Associates.

Was this some kind of joke?

“Are you lost, dear?”

“Are we on the third floor?” I asked again, my eyes scanning the number above the elevators.

“Didn’t the big sign give it away?” she asked, lifting her hand to point out the golden “Third Floor” sign.

Well, no kidding, Sherlock.

I fought the urge to snarl back at her.

Easy, Ollie. We don’t lash out at people.

“There must be some confusion. This is the office for my startup, AgiNovel. I’m the founder, and I picked this space two months ago.”

Recognition flickered in her eyes as she continued to eye me.

“Your office isn’t here, sweetheart.”

I could feel the emotional roller coaster taking a steep plunge, tears threatening to spill over, my chest constricting.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.