One Last Job

by Anise Starre

There’s a familiar knot of anxiety growing in the pit of my stomach. It’s been there so long it may as well be another organ at this point. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel like this. Like I’m only one wrong move away from my world crumbling down around me.

Lol! I felt this so deep.

Sometimes I feel like I can’t catch a break. Work is shit. Home is shit. Everything’s shit.

Maybe it’ll be my turn to prove my mother and Patrick wrong next.

I know you’re on a tight deadline, so I worked overnight to get those concepts ready for you.”

Lmao!! There's no way this bitch sat there and LIED like that. *side eye*

And besides, I wouldn’t want to give anyone any reason to call Finn Hawthorne cheap, would I?”

Lmao! The shade he threw at Alexis

“Don’t stay with someone that makes you feel small. Eventually, you’ll start to believe it. I learned that the hard way, and I hope you don’t have to.”

I don’t have to pretend like everything’s all right with Nel, like I’m not constantly struggling to stay afloat in a sea of my insecurities, only seconds away from drowning.

What is happening here?

Lol! Exactly, cause wtf is happening here

I freeze. Hawthorne is sitting in the driver’s seat with a wide grin plastered across his face. “Morning.”

Lmao! I KNEWWW IT!!

“Blame it on my cheapness,” he says cheerfully,

Lol

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted really. A home of my own. Some place I can decorate how I want to. Somewhere I actually belong.

“Beautiful, passionate, stubborn women who don’t have a problem telling me what they really think about me.” She lifts a brow and hums. “That’s very specific.” “I know what I like.” She tries to hide her smile by spearing some chicken onto her fork and taking a bite. “Well, I hope you find her one of these days.” I wonder how long we’re going to pretend like I haven’t already.

“You don’t have to do that around me, sweetheart.” I’m not going to dismiss you. I’m not going to make you feel like your wins don’t matter.

“So what am I supposed to do? It feels like I can’t win.” “You can’t,” she says simply. “But you can stop caring about it so much. It is what it is. Stop trying to change the minds of people who have already clearly decided they know what box to put you in.

This was definitely heard!

“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the market for my second home. It’ll be something on a lake and very expensive. So you better start saving now.” She’s joking, but I’m not. If she’s asking, I’m buying.

“Why on earth would we congratulate you? This isn’t an achievement, Amber.”

My jaw wouldve been on the floor and hers wouldve been side ways

“I’m tired of feeling like this. I’m tired of being around people who make me feel like this.” “Like what?” “Bad,” she mumbles. “Like there’s something wrong with me. Like I’m always doing something wrong or I’m chasing after an impossible goal.

The first time I fuck you, it’s going to be somewhere you can scream my name.

He uses two fingers to tilt my head toward the mirror. “Look how beautiful you are, sweetheart.”

“I want you to see everything your beautiful body does to me. I need you to see, first-hand, what I see – what I feel – every time I look at you. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?

I could tell her that having her by my side adds a brightness to my life, like she’s my own personal sun.

“I’m going to marry you one day, Amber.” He says it so simply, like it’s a given fact of life.

So I started up a mentorship scheme for recent graduates from underrepresented backgrounds in the corporate world; kids without a contact book full of connections but who are as equally talented and deserving of getting a foot in the door.