Eme Strife's Blog

February 23, 2015

Courtesy of weddingclipart.com

Oh, my God…

It's him!
V: hey, stranger :)
It’s only two words, and just a step above a generic ‘hello’, but I’m beyond ecstatic at seeing another message from him, especially after over two weeks of nothing. I realize I'm a lot happier that he’s contacting me than I thought I would be, and probably a lot happier than I should be.
My mood instantly changes, and the gloomy cloud that’s been hovering over me for the last few days lifts to give way for the virtual rays of sunlight that he seems to always bring with him.
All the pent up anxiety and frustration and disappointment from the last two weeks just seems to vanish, leaving me with nothing but a rush of excitement and an overwhelming sense of relief.
I admit, deep down, I was really hoping he'd be online tonight, but I definitely wasn’t counting on it. I didn’t want to hold my breath like I have in the past and then end up even more disappointed than I would have been if I’d just expected his absence the way I’ve forced myself to for the last several days.
I can't even really remember exactly which site we started chatting or why, but we've been talking for almost five months now.
He's a stranger; a faceless, nameless presence in my life, and yet, I somehow feel more connected to him than anyone else I know or ever met—even my family members.
It sounds crazy as hell, I know. Stupid even, but it's the truth. It's how I honestly feel.
Don’t get me wrong, I find it beyond weird, and it's certainly not something I expected to happen.
I also didn't expect to develop actual feelings for him…
My fingers move of their own accord, gliding swiftly across my keyboard as my eyes sturdily remain on my screen.
Tinaturner94: Hey yourself
I want to sound aloof, or at least not as excited as I feel, so I measure my responses, being careful not to say anything that might give away the skyrocketing effect he has on me.
V: so how’ve u been?
It’s such a simple, conversational question; one which most people will ask several times in their lives, but coming from him, it feels inexplicably intimate. And that only drives me to keep up my aloof facade.
Tinaturner94: *shrugs* alright, I guess
V: just alright? lol
No. I’ve been miserable as hell but I wouldn’t ever dare to tell you that because you’d find me absolutely laughable and pathetic if you knew that you’ve pretty much become the pinnacle of my social life.
Tinaturner94: pretty much. just the same old same old over here
V: I see.
V: to be honest, I wasn’t going to come online cuz I thought you wouldn’t be here, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. I’m really glad I did :).
I stare at the screen for several seconds, I almost can’t believe I’m seeing the words that are staring right back at me.
Oh my God, ditto all the way with a capital ‘d’!
My heart swells in my chest at his admission. That’s precisely how I’ve been feeling for the last two weeks, only worse, so the thought that he might have felt even an inkling of the longing and anticipation that’s been plaguing me this whole time is giving my ego and pride a much needed stroke.
I type without even thinking about it this time.
Tinaturner94: I’m really glad you did, too :)
There’s a bit of a pause, and I start to ask him how he’s been, but before I can finish typing, his next message comes in.
V: so tell me, why’s a birthday girl chatting online instead of partying it out at a club? Or are you chatting online at the club? lol
I can’t stop the extra wide grin that creeps its way onto my lips.
He remembered. 

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Published on February 23, 2015 01:12

February 14, 2015

[image error]Courtesy of chicagonow.com

Happy Valentine's day, everyone!!! 

I hope all you guys and gals enjoy today with someone special, and don't forget to spread the love (but not-so-much the cooties, lol)!
P.S. Go here to start reading the new and exciting Valentine's day story, V!

Much (more) love,

your not-so-secret Valentine, aka

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Published on February 14, 2015 07:19

February 8, 2015

Courtesy of weddingclipart.com

“Are you sure you’ll be fine by yourself, Tina?” my best friend, Alexis, asks for the millionth time, and I can almost see the apologetic pout on her face.
“Oh my God, Lex, for the last time, yes!” I say into the receiver, sounding as exasperated as I feel. I know she’s trying to be thoughtful and probably feels guilty that I’m at home by myself tonight, but her empathy is starting to sound a lot like pity; something I can honestly do without, especially today.
It's Valentines day.
It's also my birthday.
You would think that I'd be having the time of my life right now, enjoying double the fun and double the gifts and flowers and chocolate and booze, but here I am, in front of my computer screen in my dorm room by myself because everyone else I knowincluding my highly eccentric motheris either already on a date, or getting ready for one.
“Now, go or you’ll be late for your concert,” I say. “I don’t want to give Allen any more reasons to side-eye me,” I add with a sardonic grin, even though I’m serious.
Lexi’s boyfriend, Allen, isn’t exactly my biggest fan. On more than one occasion, he’s clearly made it known that he doesn’t care too much for me, or my prominent presence in Lexi’s life, which is complete horseshit considering I've known her for years and we were friends way before he ever came into the picture.
Then again, I suppose the feeling is mutual. I can't stand the asshat, and frankly, just from our few brief encounters, I really don’t get what she sees in him, but I’m not about to bring it up again, especially considering that conversationif you can even call it thatdidn’t go so well the first and only time I did.

Besides, she says he makes her happy so I just roll with it and do my best to ignore the douche whenever I see him.
He’s taking her to a sold-out, exclusive Bon Jovi concert tonight, and I won’t lie, I’m jealous, and I wish it were me she was going with. That’s definitely one way normal people would spend their twenty-first birthdays; not laying on their bed in a dark room that’s illuminated only by the fluorescent glow their laptop screen.
“Alright, alright,” she finally relents with a sigh of her own. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“‘Kay, have fun,” I say before hanging up.
Another sigh on my part.
"This is officially the lamest twenty-first birthday in history," I mutter to myself.
I hate Valentines day. I wish I could say that this is an anomaly, but this happens every single year.

Every. Single. Year!
I'm probably that one person in the world who detests their own birthday.
I breath out an uninterested sigh again, clicking away on my laptop as I continue to idly surf the net and listen to random stations on Pandora so I don't lose my mind from boredom.
Just then, I hear a beep, and there's a notification on the screen.
My breathing immediately picks up, and my heart thuds in my chest at the sound, and I hastily click on the icon.
My eyes go wide despite the bright light, and my heart skips several beats as I open it up and see the sender's name.

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Published on February 08, 2015 22:00 • 1 view

February 1, 2015

Courtesy of theaddkid.blogspot.com

The countdown is in full swing, and I still can’t see anyone I recognize. Dustin is still nowhere in sight, and I can’t seem to spot Mel or Derek, either.
It certainly doesn’t help that I’m not exactly the tallest person in the world, and can barely see anything beyond the masses of people surrounding me.
And as if I’m not anxious enough, for some strange reason, I feel like someone’s watching me, which sounds stupid considering the place is packed full of eyeballs, so, of course, someone’s watching me.
In fact, several people are, but mostly because I’m trying desperately to squeeze by and in between them, and with the constant pushing that already exists during times like this, they don’t seem to be too thrilled about it.
Still, I can’t seem to shake this feeling of being watched. I ignore it, continuing to make my way through the crowd.
The chorus continues. “Seventeen…sixteen…fifteen…”
“Alicia!” I hear someone call from behind me. It’s a man’s voice, deep and distinct, and it stands out powerfully even amidst the giant blend of all the other voices surrounding me.
I keep moving towards the yellow sign, still looking for my brother and my friends as I squeeze through the impossibly crowded street.
“Seven…six…five,” I still keep going, even though it's becoming near impossible to do so now.
“Alicia!” I hear the man call out again, his voice becoming louder and louder each time he does.
He must be looking for someone, too, in the same boat as I am. Just then, I feel someone grab me from behind, pulling on my arm with a firm, strong grip.
“Hey, wha—”
Next thing I know, I'm being turned around, and I come face to face with a pair of sharp hazel eyes; eyes that belong to a man.
An extremely handsome man.
For a few seconds, I find myself frozen in place, unable to do anything else but stare at the seamless mesh of evergreen, warm brown, and crystal blue staring back at me.
For the briefest of moments, somehow, everything else easily fades away, moving out of focus.
The countless faces, lit billboards and skyscrapers become blurred out, the sounds of music and rowdy voices tuned out, and all I'm left with is the face of the man standing before me, and the sound of my own shallow breathing filling my ears and the thud of my heart beating hard in my chest.
Then, just as soon as it went out of focus, everything comes flooding back in a flash, and I realize the countdown is coming to an end.
"Three…two…one! Happy New Year!"
The magnificent chorus booms through the cold night air, everyone counting down to the very last moment at the top of their lungs as the Times Square ball finally drops, and just like that, the new year is upon us.
Cheers and whistles replace the former countdown chorus, and as I quickly scan and observe everyone, I see excitement and hope for the future in their faces and voices.
Almost immediately, fireworks hit the dark night sky, various blends of bright, vibrant colors and hues splashing across it, contrasting with its sheer darkness.
Before I can form another thought, the man leans in and easily takes my lips in his.

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Published on February 01, 2015 22:00

January 25, 2015

Courtesy of Google Images

 I may be experiencing what is, without a doubt, the absolute, worst hangover I have ever had in all my twenty-six years of life, and as result, my coherence is questionable at best at the moment.
Plus, my motor skills are probably still shot to hell from last night, especially considering the fact that I can barely get passed the constant ringing in my ears and throbbing in my temples—not to mention the disgusting taste of vodka-infused vomit that's still lingering in the back of my throat.
Still, I'm pretty darn sure that what I'm feeling right here and right now is someone else's skin.
I mean, fuck, it sure as hell isn't mine! Even with a brain that currently refuses to cooperate all the way, I know I can at least recognize that much.
Is…is that an arm?
I'm slightly alarmed now, my body slow to catch up with my head in its trashed out and abused state, but I chance it anyway and let my hand continue to feel around tentatively but also cautiously, moving up the length of the supposed arm and stopping at what feels like a very broad and muscled shoulder.
Just then, I hear a deep mumble, and my body immediately goes stiff.
My eyes fly open as my stressed-out brain finally registers that there's someone else in my bed.
And as soon as my eyes land on the figure laying right next to me, every single one of my nerves go into overdrive, all my senses become a jumbled mess of confusion, and a bout of shock completely take over my body.
There's a man lying right next to me.
A naked man.
And, for some reason, he has lots and lots of feathers splayed around him. Feathers that are attached to…wait…a-are those…wings?
No. No, they can't possibly be…
The man mumbles something again, shifting slightly, and I can feel my mattress easily move beneath his weight, rising and sinking as it is simultaneously released from and subjected to his large frame.
My mouth falls open without my permission, and I swear I'm just two seconds away from catching a fly, but no words will come out of it.
I just stare at him as he lazily adjusts himself in my bed, seemingly oblivious to anything and everything but the calmness of his subconscious and the carefree feeling that only sleep can offer.
For several moments, I can't speak. I can't move a muscle or even make a sound.
All I can do for those distinct seconds, that seem to slow down exponentially and almost remove themselves from the rest of time, is continue to watch the naked figure sleeping ever so calmly beside my own rigid, immobile body.
But then, in the blink of an eye—a suddenly very twitchy eye, I might add—that all changes.
Before I even know what's happening, I'm letting out the loudest, most ear-shattering scream in the world.

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Published on January 25, 2015 22:00 • 2 views

January 22, 2015


My eyes continue to roam around, searching for the smallest inkling of excitement, but get nothing. There doesn't seem to be anything particularly prestigious about this place, not that I can see, anyway.
In fact, it's apparently filled with a bunch of mental patients who feel up random women in the hallways, and others who immediately start babbling on about their dissatisfaction with their hair color to any stranger who just happens to be trapped in the elevator with them.          I wasn't necessarily expecting fanfare when I walked through the front doors, or to be given my very own office, complete with an espresso machine and an assistant of my own.
I mean, I knew that I was going to have to put in some time doing "intern things" in the beginning. I just didn't think that I would be having to work alongside people who, quite honestly, don't seem very impressive.
After all, this place is supposed to be something of a factory when it comes to churning out successful environmental consultants who write their own paychecks. At least, that's how the rumors go.          I hand over the folders to my boss, who gives me once-over before telling me I can take a break if I want. I haven't eaten anything all day, so I sit down at the little desk in the corner of the main room that they've assigned to me, and open up the bag of chips that I'd picked up from the store on my way into work this morning.
Just as I rip the foil packaging open, I notice that one of the corner offices' blinds is finally being opened. It had been closed since I'd arrived, and I hadn't heard a sound escape from the crack beneath the door next to it.          An older woman comes into view, standing at the window as she pulls at the blind cord. Unexpectedly, she stares at me for a moment as she continues to draw them open. 
For one reason or another, I get the impression that she isn't happy to see me there, even though she probably doesn't have the faintest idea of who I am. Her expression is cold, with her thin lips pursed as though they have never cracked a smile in her long life.          Once she moves away from the window, I can see a man seated in a chair in front of the desk. His hair is a deep black, with flecks of brown scattered throughout. The hue of his skin is on the paler side, and it seems even more pale against the dark coloring of his suitan expensive looking one that has obviously been custom tailored to fit his chiseled frame.
He stands up, seemingly to leave, and I can't help but notice how tall he is. He's easily well over six feet, his height seems all the more impressive because of his great build; his shoulders are wide apart and his back is broad, all held in an impeccable, upright posture.
He's built like a pro athlete; both big, tall, and visibly muscled even beneath his expensive clothes, and he has such an imposing presence to top it off, like he belongs in the Oval Office or a in boxing ring instead of an environmental consulting firm.
He looks terribly out of place here.
If he didn't seem so intimidating—even from behind—I'd be tempted to go up to him and ask if he was lost.          He glances over at me through the window just as I place another chip into my mouth, clumsily letting its crumbs collect around my lips as I bite down. My eyes meet his, and I almost choke on the single chip now lodged in my throat as I feel all the air rush out of my lungs without my permission.
He continues to stare at me, and for a few seconds, I find that I can't breathe. And I can't seem to look away from his piercing gaze as it continues to hold mine, either.
He smiles at me, and I lick away the specks of salt that are burning my dry lips. His gaze remains fixed on me for quite some time, even after the smile is gone from his face and a look of what I can only peg as fascination or curiosity takes its place.          The man who'd been seated across the desk from him is the one who I'd been very briefly introduced to when I'd arrived this morning. He's my boss' boss, Sam, and seems like a nice enough person, despite the fact that everyone keeps saying that you don't want to get on his bad side.
Then again, that saying really never made much sense to me, because you never really want to get on anyone's bad side when it comes down to it.          The tall man in the pricey suit finally takes his eyes off me and begins walking towards the door, but not before saying something to Sam, who then shoots a glimpse in my direction.
The look in Sam's eyes is questioning, and I can't help but feel that something significant just transpired between them, although I'm not sure what. Both their reactions are quite strange, and a bit unnerving to be quite honest, but I shrug off the unease I feel when I see that they're finally heading out of the office and walking over to the elevator.
The tall suited man gives me one last look before disappearing behind the corridor wall, smirking and striding confidently.
Why wouldn't he be confident, though?, I think to myself.
He's obviously achieved a whole lot, possibly everything that he's ever really wanted in life, judging by the way he carries himself and the fact that he seems to be associating so casually with the director of a prestigious firm like Sam.
Plus, he has good looks and, evidently, a good amount of money.
Okay, fine. He has incredibly good looks and obviously ten boatloads of cash. And he's even still young enough to really enjoy it all. He looks to be maybe in his late twenties or early thirties at the most.          I go back to eating my snack, doing my best to pretend that this stranger's stare didn't just set all my limbs on fire, urging my mind to focus on anything other than his molten amber eyes until Timothy comes out of his office to tell me that I can leave early if I want.
Apparently his wife had called him and said that he needed to go to his daughter's school for some emergency, and I wouldn't really have anything to do without him there.
Given the way the day is going, I'm more than happy to head home a couple of hours before I'm supposed to, especially since the boredom is bound to get even worse if I stick around.
As I head out of the building and to my car, I can’t believe that the only interesting thing that has happened all day, a day that was supposed to be full of excitement, was a beautiful stranger with dark hair and warm amber eyes staring at me through a window.
As much as I try not to, I can't stop myself from wondering who he is, why he was looking at me, and what he said to Sam. And as much as I hate to admit itbecause, let’s face it, the guy had ‘man whore’ written all over himI find him incredibly attractive. I’m just puzzled by why he seemed to have such a fascination for—or at least, what I secretly hope is some sort of interest in—the girl in the corner desk who was messily eating her potato chips.

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Published on January 22, 2015 22:00 • 1 view

January 15, 2015

CHAPTER TWO          

The ‘big day’ is finally here, after what had been a mostly sleepless night and tumultuous early morning. But as it turns out, much to my dismay—and surprise, I guess—my first day on the job isn't particularly eventful. Nothing at all like I expected, actually, but I'm still hoping it'll get better as the day goes on. I end up getting yet another cup of coffee for my boss, who is a short bald man by the name of Timothy. He smells like cheap aftershave and mouthwash well into the day.
It really didn't take long for me to find out that it isn't actually mouthwash that gives him his funky, spirit smell, but vodka that he somehow keeps sneaking into those perfectly poured mugs of Colombian ground that he keeps asking for every hour, on the hour.          "Rosalind," he calls for me yet again, from his desk. "Rosalind, I need you to go and get me a batch of reports from downstairs."          "Sure, no problem," I obediently reply.          I walk down the long hallway that leads to the elevator, lined with offices that have floor to ceiling windows looking over the city and beautifully etched ones that faced the hallway. A few of them have their blinds drawn so that no one can see in. I can’t help but wonder what’s going on in those offices.
I let my imagination get the better of me, as I always tend to do, and think about all of the things that are hiding behind these blinds, of all the acts that are being done just feet away from me as I scurry down the corridor. Maybe there are a few of them that actually have people doing business behind them.
On the other hand, it’s quite possible that there’s also a hiked up skirt and a pair of unzipped trousers behind at least one of those guarded windows, with heavy breaths that are exhaled just quietly enough to be blocked by the door. I’m willing to bet that this building has seen plenty of bared thighs and eager hands over its years.          I step into the elevator and push the button, but just before the doors have a chance to close, a woman races up and quickly presses her arm between them. She stumbles in after she practically pries the sliding doors open, carrying a stack of paperwork in one hand and fixing her hair with the other as soon as she manages to get inside.
We both stand there quietly for a moment, until she breaks the silence.          She seems to be about the same age as me, and is wearing expensive looking heels that also look uncomfortable. There's a little run in her pantyhose, that she seemingly tried to cover up with clear nail polish. I can tell by the way she carries herself and how she looks that she's a full-timer here. She doesn't have that intern 'newness' about her, and she exudes a sort of nonthreatening confidence.          "Are you new here?" she asks.          "Yeah," I say as I turn to face her. "It's my first day. My boss sent me downstairs to pick up some reports."          "I thought so. I didn't recognize you. I definitely would have remembered that hair of yours," she says, smiling. "It's gorgeous. Are you a natural redhead?"          
I nod and give her a polite smile, returning the gesture. People always comment about my hair, so I almost expected her to say something about it. It's a deep red color that really does look like something straight out of a bottle, I have to admit.
I have my mother to thank for it. Her hair was nearly the same shade once, until it started turning gray. Rather than try and dye it back to its normal color though, she simply let it be. So, now there's only a few strands here and there that remind her of the scarlet locks that she once adored.
And, oh, did she ever adore her hair. I can remember, when I was much younger, she would sit there every night at the edge of her bed and brush her wavy, vibrant red hair for what seemed like forever. She was so proud of the fact that I had inherited it from her, and not the chestnut brown color my dad used to have before he turned gray, too.
Despite the pride she takes in my hair, there have been times when it was obvious she got a bit jealous of it, especially right around the time her color started to fade significantly. Even now, she still continues to make remarks about how I should do more with it, or that it looks dry and that I should take better care of it.          "Well, you're lucky," the woman adds, bringing me out of my thoughts. She points to her head with her free hand and playfully rolls her eyes. "I'm stuck with this boring brown color that I have to highlight every other month. I've been thinking about just giving up though and just dying it all a completely different color. How do you think I would look as a redhead?"          "I don't know," I answer with a shrug, a bit unsure if she should be asking a complete stranger for cosmetic advice. I'm unsure of what to tell her, andI think that she can tell she's making me a little uncomfortable with her random chatting and questions, because she switches the topic rather quickly as we both got off the elevator and walk down yet another hallway.                    "I'm Cathy, by the way," she says.          "Rosalind," I return. "But everyone usually calls me Reaux."          "It's nice to meet you then, Reaux. I'm sure you'll do really well here." She stops just in front of an office and pulls at my arm gently to bring my ear closer to her. "Whatever you do, just stay away from Zack. He's this creep up in accounting who likes to hit on all of the girls and do a bunch of completely inappropriate things. He gets away with it though, because he's related to one of the big high-ups. He grabbed my ass once in the hall and I know that he even tried to feel up Stacy, the girl that's in the office next to mine."          I give her a look of mild disbelief and shock. "And he just gets away with fondling everyone?"          Cathy nods and stepped inside the office door. "If you ever want to talk or anything, you know where to find me," she says. "Oh, and you'll probably need to head over to that office to get your reports. That's generally where they keep all of the paperwork for your department," she adds, pointing to a door on our far left.          I thank her and make my way over to the door she'd pointed at. There's a man sitting at the desk inside who hands me what I need once I tell him my boss' name. He doesn't bother to look up at me or say a word. He just continues to focus on the report that he was busily filling out when I came in after he hands everything over.          As I walked back down the corridor and return to my floor in the elevator, I think about how strange this place is, and how much different it is from what I had expected it to be. I don't quite know how I had pictured it was going to be, but I guess that I had assumed that I would actually be doing something more important than fetching folders and making coffee for my new drunkard boss. 

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Published on January 15, 2015 22:00 • 1 view

January 12, 2015

Courtesy of theaddkid.blogspot.com

"Hello?" Mel’s voice blasts through the speaker, making me wince as my eardrum takes a hit. 
I cover my other ear, trying to block out the surrounding noise and chaos.
"M-Mel?" I stutter, my teeth clattering as another gust of icy wind blows over me. "W-where the hell are you guys?"
She pauses for a bit before answering. "I don't really know," she says. "Where the hell are you, Peggy? We were all together and next thing I know, you and Dustin are gone!"
"Wait, he's not with you?" I frown, panic and dread settling into my belly. Dustin's only a couple of months away from turning eighteen, but he's still a minor, and this is only his second time in New York City. This place can get pretty crazy, especially on a night as busy and chaotic as New Year's Eve.
"No, we thought he was with you," she says, hints of worry creeping into her voice. "You're not with him?"
"No, I—"
My phone beeps in my ear again, interrupting me and telling me it's running low, and will probably switch itself off in a few minutes.
"Mel, my phone is dying," I say. "Tell me where you are and I'll meet you there. Then we can look for Dustin together."
There’s a bit of rustling on her end before she speaks again. "Derek and I are a few feet away from a Tobacco billboard," she says. "It's bright yellow, with some type of Kangaroo mascot on it. You can't miss it."
I look up, my eyes darting around, and I quickly spot the billboard she's talking about in the distance.
“Okay, I see it!” I confirm, feeling a bit more optimistic.
“Good,” she says. “We'll stay put until you get here.”
I nod even though she can't see me. “Okay. I'm on my way. Until then, just keep your eyes peeled for Dustin. He couldn't have gotten too far.”
“Okay, but hurry,” Mel warns. “The countdown is only a few minutes away. You really won't be able to move around once it starts.”
“I'll try,” I say.
Easier said than done, of course. Just trying to move an inch in this overcrowded cluster is already proven to be a Herculean task.
I keep my eyes set on the yellow sign ahead. It seems so close by and yet so far away with all the resistance I keep running into.
"Sorry," I apologize for the millionth time and to no one in particular as I continue to squeeze and force my way through and around countless people.
By the time close enough to the sign, the countdown is already beginning. Everyone turns towards the center skyscraper, looking at the digits displayed on it.
From your everyday locals, to tourists and foreigners, to news reporters, television personalities, and the few celebrities scattered about on nearby rooftops and built-in stages, every single person in this moment is focused on the same thing.
Everyone's eyes are peeled, focused on the night and the seconds that are going to end it and bring us into a new year that promises better things and more happiness than the last.
And so the countdown chorus begins… 

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Published on January 12, 2015 01:30 • 1 view

January 9, 2015

                         CHAPTER ONE

“You’re gonna go blind if you keep reading that, you know,” I hear Kylie say, her tone a mixture of amusement and something else I can’t quite pin-point.
My mouth is suspended over the transparent straw in my glass, my lips slightly parted as they hover absently over my neglected drink.
She keeps talking, and I hear everything she’s saying, but my eyes are glued to the wrinkled letter in my hands, roaming over the typed words again and again; words that have become very, very familiar, so much so that I’ve memorized each and every one.
The words are familiar because I’ve read them before, several times, in fact, and probably way too many according to some people—including my best friend, Kylie.
It’s an acceptance letter for an internship with one of the most prestigious environmental consulting companies in the country, even if the letter doesn’t currently look prestigious itself. In just three short days, it’s gone from its original crisp and immaculate appearance to being worn and wrinkled with a few fingerprint stains and a small tear at the bottom.
Maybe I have read it too many times, but it’s not like I can help myself.
“I still can't believe I got picked,” I murmur, mostly to myself, but I'm pretty sure Kylie can hear me.
My eyes travel upwards for a moment, locking on to the ice floating in my citrus green tea and zoning in on the transparent cubes as they swim adjacent to and on top of each other in the yellow-green liquid.
I poke absently at one of them with the straw, submerging it completely for a few seconds before it finds its way up from under the pressure I'm putting on it. I do the same thing to another ice cube. And then another, until I'm not even sure what exactly I'm doing anymore.
I can't seem to keep still. I have so much nervous energy right now, and I desperately need to expend some of it.
I start swirling the glass, and the light chiming sound of ice against glass fills the air sporadically. At one point, I swirl it a bit too fast, and some of my tea spills over. It almost gets on my phone and the letter, but Kylie saves the day and swipes them both away just in the nick of  time.
I think she saw it coming, but then again, she's always had really good reflexes, and being a former athlete only adds to her agility.
“Shit…thanks,” I say with an apologetic look. She stares at me for a moment, and when she doesn't look away, I can't stop myself from asking, “What?”
Without a word, she motions towards the table with her eyes and looks back at me again. I look down to where she had to find my fingers drumming restlessly against the table, tapping away furiously at the grainy wood with no particular rhythm.
“Wow, you really are nervous about this,” she says, hints of worry creeping into her big, doe-like eyes. She takes a sip of her coffee before she adds, “You've been wanting this forever, Reaux. What are you so worried about?”
I shake my head. “I'm not nervous, I'm just…”
Well, I'm not entirely sure what I am, to be honest. My feelings are definitely mixed and all over the place right now, and my mind is sort of on its own speedometer, going a million miles a second as too many thoughts struggle to go through it at once.
I shrug. “I dunno. I think I'm just still kind of in shock that it's finally happening after all this time, you know?”
Kylie nods solemnly. “Yeah, I know.” She lowers her eyes and taps absently at the handle of her cup, and I can tell she's hesitating, almost as if she's unsure of what to say next. But then she looks up again and grins at me, and pretty soon, her grin is spreading into a full-fledged smile.
Typical Kylie Baxter.
Kyles has one of those smiles that can light up an entire football stadium. Seriously. Plus, she smiles as naturally and effortlessly as she breathes. It's one of the things that makes her so approachable and likeable, and definitely one of the things that make guys fawn over her like kids fawn over candy at Halloween. She never has issues meeting new people and making new friends.
Unfortunately, I can't exactly say the same for myself.
“I’ve said it before but it deserves repeating; I'm really proud of you, Reaux,” she says, with her sweet, heart-warming smile splayed lovingly across her face. “You deserve this more than anyone.”
My throat tightens at hearing the way she commends me, at how she always supports me, and I just want to reach across the table and give her the biggest hug in the world, but a heavy feeling quickly settles in my gut and makes me stay put. “Thanks, Kyles,” I say with a bit of a strain. I manage to give her a small smile back, and all of a sudden, the threat of tears sting me from behind my eyes. Her words touch me deeper than I realize, and I can't help feeling emotional.
Kylie is the only person who really knows me from A to Z. She’s also the only person who knows everything I've been through these last five years in particular, and all the crap I've had to deal with in order to get to this very moment.
I’m just about to begin my last semester of college, and I can’t imagine a better way to end my university career than getting accepted into the internship program at EcoDiverse, which is no small feat, I can assure you.
It's been four long and angst-filled months of constant waiting, doubting, and keeping my fingers crossed for that acceptance letter.
Every single year, there are well over a hundred and fifty seniors who desperately want and fight incredibly hard for the coveted spot at the prestigious environmental consulting firm, and this year has been no different.
So, when I finally received it in the mail three days ago, I had all but jumped out of my skin, and I've been completely restless ever since. I had struggled—with quite a bit of difficulty, I must admit—to contain my excitement as I broke the envelope’s seal, unfolded the letter, and read the ultimate words of acceptance addressed to me on the formal paper, especially since each and every one of my classmates had been hoping it would be their names on the sealed envelope.
I honestly didn't think I'd be this excited if I got it, but I am. I really, really am.
I know some of my classmates will be happy for me, but I also know that quite a few of them are going to feel more than a little salty about the outcome. But I can't say I’d blame them for feeling that way.
After all, it's common knowledge that EcoDive turns lowly interns into people who can pick whichever high paying job they want after graduating. There's even a rumor floating around about the last intern, who apparently was offered a position with, not one, but twelve of the Fortune 500 companies.          So, of course, as soon as I got the good news—and once I was done screaming and jumping up and down in front of my mailbox like a crazy person—I accepted their offer right away. I start tomorrow, and I swear I can’t wait!
But I’m not doing it because I want the money that the experience will eventually earn me, nor the boasting rights that I can now toss in the faces of my family members—who were all very vocal about the fact that switching from pre-med was the biggest mistake of my young life.
No, it's none of those things, really.
As pathetic as it sounds, the main reason why I jumped at the chance to work for EcoDiverse, the "holy grail" of environmental consultant internships, is because I genuinely want to save the world.
Yes, yes, I know that may sound really lame, and yes, I know it definitely sounds cheesy as hell, but it’s the truth.
While most people my age are doing their best to party as much as humanly possible before the real world begins breathing down their necks, sleep with as many people as they can, and come up with new and inventive ways to beat the common hangover, I'm busy trying to figure out ways to stop the premature melting of the polar ice caps, raising awareness about endangered animal species, and organizing rallies against offshore drilling.
As a result, I’m the one in class who always has the opinions, rarely drinks anything stronger than a cup of coffee, and has never had sex.          But before you get all judgmental and draw up the conclusion that I must be some sort of uptight prude, or really, really awkward around guys, let me just say right now, that I'm not. And it's not that I haven't had the opportunity to make love before, either.
In fact, there have been more than a few times throughout my undergraduate career when I probably could have finally lost my virginity to some random guy who I'd met on campus.
The issue is, that's just not who I am.
I’m not the girl who slips into bed with the first boy who comes along. It's not that I’m waiting for marriage, despite the fact that my father—who’s as Catholic as they come—has made it very clear on several occasions that he’ll disown me if I "let myself be compromised" before walking down the aisle at our church.          The simple truth of the matter is that it just hasn’t happened for me.
At least not yet.
There haven't been any lusty encounters in dark movie theaters or gentle hand brushing in the lecture hallway that escalated into full-blown steamy bathroom sex episodes, much like I'd read about in my roommate's stash of erotic romance novels.
As hard as it may be to believe, nothing particularly sensual had ever entered into the equation during all my years in college, even though there were times when I would have loved to have felt the firm grasp of a hand or a warm, velvety tongue on my body.
But whenever these kinds of thoughts linger in my head, the shame of them always send me further into my studies, and as usual, I tuck the deep, mingling desires into the far back of my mind.
A girl who was raised in a strict Catholic home like I was shouldn't be dreaming about thrusting hips or quivering lips.
Well…at least that's what I've always been told.
My eyes go back to the acceptance letter once more.I've read it eighty-three times since I got it, and when I get back to my dorm, I'm probably going to read it again. It may seem obsessive or narcissistic that I keep doing it, and who knows, maybe on some level, it is. But again, I can't help myself.
This acceptance letter means so much more to me than just a chance to gain some experience with a renowned company. It's a sign that, for once, my life is actually going the way I want it to go, that things are turning out just how I want them to.
It symbolizes years of effort and patience and tolerance and denying myself what I really want finally paying off. It symbolizes everything I've been wanting for a very long time now; a physical sign that I'm taking a huge and critical step in the right direction…finally.

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Published on January 09, 2015 02:33 • 1 view

January 5, 2015

[image error]Courtesy of partypro.comHey, guys!

Holy moly, I seriously can't believe it's already been two whole years since I started the blog!!! Crazy, isn't it?

At the risk of sounding really lame, it really does feel like it was just yesterday when the blog was brand spanking new and your girl Eme had no clue what she was doing. Lol.

Two full years later, and I seriously can't tell you guys how happy I am with all its growth and progress.

I just want to take this time to thank all of you who've been such loyal and amazing readers and supporters since its conception.

I didn't want to make this post long, so I'll just end by saying, Happy Second Birthday, (Eme)nded Scribbles!

*Raises virtual champagne flute* Here's to many, many more years of wonderful growth, awesome readers, breathtaking stories, and all the fun and exciting stuff that we've all come to love about the blog :).

Until next time...

Much love,

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Published on January 05, 2015 02:22 • 1 view