Sitting in the Kentucky Fried Chicken drive-thru line wasn't what I had pictured for a sixth-month anniversary date night.
Especially considering the look on the other customers' faces in line as we drove up in Liam's Rolls-Royce. The car screamed, 'I normally eat at places that sell five hundred dollar wine and don't sell food that you eat with your fingers.'
But here I was on a Thursday night, waiting for fried chicken.
"Lily?" Liam asked, gesturing out the window toward the order box. I hadn't even realized it was our turn to order. In my momentary panic at not thinking through my order in advance and practicing in my mind, I blurted, "Bucket of chicken, please!"
Liam put his window back up, and the car slowly rolled forward in line, waiting for our turn to pay. He let out an exasperated sigh.
"What's wrong?"
"This isn't how it's supposed to be," he said to his steering wheel, ashy blond hair falling across his face and hiding his dark blue eyes.
"It's okay," I replied, picking up on his frustration. He probably felt guilty that he hadn't had time to do something bigger for our sixth-month anniversary, but when you were dating a lawyer who worked as hard as he did, I didn't want to push him to do things with me when he was already so stressed out.
"No. It's not okay."
His concern made me smile. It was sweet.
"We need to end things."
The smile evaporated as Liam turned to look at me, face serious.
My heart stopped. "What?"
"You and me... we don't fit."
I couldn't seem to find words. Is he breaking up with me... in a fast food drive-thru line?
Liam continued, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "I get paid to travel all over the country for work events. I just closed a five-million-dollar deal last week."
He kept saying words. None of them explained why he wanted to break up. He just continued to list fancy thingsâ cars, suits, a penthouse, two assistants, how he was on the verge of making partner at his firm. But eventually, in his long monologue, I came up again.
"My life is big and exciting. And I want something more..."
"More exciting?"Â I asked, finding my first set of words in the conversation. I could do more exciting things with him. Plan vacations. Go to more places. This was fixableâ
"Just more..."
I felt something inside of me crack. Because that is what happens when you let someone get close to you. You gave them the power to take a sledgehammer and shatter your self-esteem with a few calloused words.
You... well." He gestured to all of me like that was enough of an explanation.
"I'm...?" I asked because, apparently, I wanted more details to add to his wonderful picture of me.
He took a deep breath like the words were a burden to him and not to the person he was smashing with his verbal sledgehammer. "You are boring Lily Autumns."
More smashing of my self-esteem ensued, and before I could even process what had just happened, we were at the drive-thru window, greeted by a chipper woman who took my now ex-boyfriend's American Express Gold Card and handed me my bucket of fried chicken.
Liam nodded, as we drove out of the drive-thru, turning on a classical music stationâ making it clear that he was quite satisfied by the way the breakup had goneâ then proceeded to ride in content silence for three blocks before he dropped me off at the curb in front of my apartment building, eager to get back to work.
Apparently, the entire conversation was just something he needed to scratch off his to-do list.
I felt numb. Was that a normal reaction after you just got dumped outside of a Kentucky Fried Chicken drive-thru?
The first thing that became clear as I stared off after the Rolls-Royce was that my now ex-boyfriend viewed the entire conversation as an irritation. He hadn't taken the time to see if I agreed, or checked on how I took the news.
He just dropped me off on the curb like a baby chucking a piece of food off of their high chair when they were done. Talking me through his view and explaining why I was no longer a wanted part of his life was an irritating blemish on his long 'to-do' list.
Not that getting broken up with was something to look forward to, or easy to swallow, but I hadn't gone into my sixth-month anniversary date night with Liamâ where he insisted he only had time for a quick drive-thru mealâ expecting to get dumped in the car faster than it took for us to order.
By the time Liam swiped his American Express Gold Card, he had dumped me, and twenty seconds after that, he handed me my food like a consolation prize for being so understanding of the quick and easy breakup.
It didn't even occur to me to make it a hard breakup until he had dropped me off back at my apartment, not bothering to get out of the car, but instead left me standing on the curb with a bucket of fried chicken and a feeling of shock.
In total, our breakup took ten minutes, and sixteen dollars worth of food. If there was a time and financial way to express how worthless you thought someone's heart was, Liam had nailed it with infuriating ease.
I shouldn't have been too surprised. Liam had been getting busy with work. I was always the one to suggest we get together each week, but I just assumed that when you worked as hard as he did, scheduling things out in advance was part of what it was like dating a busy person.
Glancing down at my bucket of greasy food that worked as a metaphor for how my heart feltâ a blob of unwanted flesh that resided outside of my bodyâ I let myself back into my apartment, thankful that my housemate worked nights. I couldn't bear having to explain that I had gotten broken up with ten minutes ago while apparently running a food errand.
Dropping the bucket of food on the coffee table, I settled down on the couch, pulled a fuzzy blanket over myself, and turned on the first of what I expected to be a long list of 1950s romance movies, where no girl was ever dumped so quickly, and if she ever was, there was always a man ready to sweep her off her feet, and remind her that she was beautiful.
Then I burst into tears, wishing I was as lucky as every single girl in one of those classic movies. They had men who looked at them like they were the stars in the sky. Like they were the most beautiful creature they had ever seen.
I glanced down at my bucket of fried chicken and cried harder.
...
"Darling, you are an idiot," the television barked, startling me awake. The world was blurry, and I only had a moment to wrap my head around the idea of being conscious before the old black and white movie on the television screen transitioned into a musical number, trumpets blaring so loudly that I yelped, falling off the couch, banging the coffee table and hitting the bucket of old greasy chicken on the way to the ground.
I sighed, grumbling as I plucked bits of chicken out of my hair and nommed on them, grumpy and groggy. "Not the best way to wake up post-breakup..."
Staring at the ceiling, I sighed, the night before crashing into my waking mind like a rude reminder.
We don't fit...
Breaking up was never easy. They were messy and full of unwanted feelings.
I want something more...
No matter how easy or hard the breakup was, it always hurt.
You are boring Lily Autumns...
Like your heart and lungs were being squeezed too tight while your eyes were being attacked by a spicy jalapeño.
More... more... more...
It was like emotions were haywire, no longer under your control.
Boring... boring... boring...
It required you to be tugged out of someone's life after you had begun to weave parts of your story together like a half-finished tapestry that got ripped at the seams.
"That's why you love me," a smooth, 1920s actor replied with a suave grin as he took the leading lady into his arms on the television screen and twirled her along a dance floor that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Their classiness in the early hours of the morning where mocking me.
Suddenly my comfort classic romantic movie choices were biting me in the butt.
Ugh. Take your happiness somewhere else. I should have put on zombie movies instead.
I didn't want to move. I didn't want to go to work. I didn't even want to think. I just wanted to lay on the floor, and pretend my life wasn't demanding that I pretend I was okay. Pulling one of my many fuzzy blankets off the couch, I ignored the fact that I was covered in food, and rolled up in it like a hot mess burrito of denial.
I live here now. Nothing exists outside of fuzzy hot mess burrito town of denial.
But reality eventually required my attention and the screen came back into focus as I plucked my glasses off the ground, wiped off the greasy chicken with the bottom of my shirt and set them back on my face. The window came into clear view, and I suddenly realized it was later than I had expected. Scrambling for my phone, which had dozens of missed calls on it from my now ex boyfriend, I let out an undignified squeak.
"Mother of dingbats!"
I was late. The kind of late that meant that unless I skipped showering the chicken grease out of my hair and changing out of my grey sweatpants that were currently smeared with more grease, I was going to be half an hour late for work. Something I'd never done. I glanced down at my sweatpants, openly cringing. My boss would openly destroy me if I dared to wear anything this... greasy to work.
To be late and then die from fashion destruction, or be close-ish to on time but look like a food monster?
After staring at my reflection on the screen for a long beat, I decided to risk the CEO's wrath and bolted to my room, tripping across the rug and sliding into the bathroom as the rug bunched into the bathroom like a cup being crushed in an angry kid's hands.
As I dashed through my morning routine, in complete contrast to any leading lady in a morning glow-up montage, I scream talked to myself like a pterodactyl screeching out a monologue, trying to stay calm.
"Gah!Whatiswrongwithyou?!?Youcan'tfallasleepaftercryingandwatchingoldmovieswhenyouhaveworkinthemorning!!!"
My housemate, Bex, peeked out her bedroom door, eyes squinted like an irritated cat as she took me in as I scuddered through the living room.
"Fire?" she half mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
Bex worked long night hours as a computer hacker, forcing her to sleep through the day like a very gracious vampire roommate who never got angry when her roommate accidentally woke her up in a panic to get out the door.
Bex's short dark hair stuck up at odd ends, her eyes smeared with makeup she forgot to wash off the night before.
"NoI'mlatesorryforyellingbye!!!" I shouted as I ran out the door, pulling my purse over my shoulder, wet hair sending water droplets all over the ground like a flailing wet mop.
Her eyes landed on the disaster that made up our living room. "Uhhh..."
"I'll clean when I get back. Sorrybye!" I added, slamming the front door to our apartment behind me. I was yanked to a stop, my purse strap suddenly caught through the other side of the front door... with my keys.
"Beeeex!!! Help!!!" I shouted growing more panicked.
I am far too late to be making these kinds of mistakes!
The door opened, Bex blinking out at me, still half asleep. "Mugged?"
I pulled my purse through the door and left a confused half asleep computer hacker standing in the doorway watching me sprint down the hallway like a track runner.
Bolting towards the tall building, I couldn't help but think of the menacing air it had in the early morning before the sun could peek out from behind it and set it ablaze with sunshine. I hadn't ever thought of my workplace as terrifying, or menacing until a very specificâ and very terrifying person began to work there. Then everything began to feel backward, like the Twilight Zone, if the Twilight Zone was ruled by an ice queen of fashion terror.
I pressed my fingers across one of the many wrinkles on my 1930s flower print dress as the elevator jolted up to the top floor of "Royal Winters," the fashion company where I worked as the gatekeeper to both the CEO and CFO.
Scrambling out of the elevator, I nearly collapsed with relief when neither of my bosses was in their offices. The entire floor was one giant view of the Los Angeles skyline with a long glass wall cut down the middle of the room, creating two offices.
One office was filled with mahogany, leather, sleek black surfaces, and stacks of paper with clean sets of numbers, while the other was a hurricane of swatches, sketches, and creative chaos. The two offices held a clear view into each other's spaces due to the large glass wall, making privacy impossible.
The only blemish on the otherwise large, overbearing office space was a small desk set right at the front, for me, the gatekeeper. A desk you nearly tripped over when leaving the elevator onto the floor.
I had barely managed to get settled in at my desk, kick off my running shoes, yank on a pair of black flats that I quickly realized was splattered in bird poop, and shove my wet locks over my shoulders and into a messy braid when the elevator doors opened again to the sounds of arguing.
Allie Winters, famous fashion designer, a hot topic in gossip magazines due to her temper and messy relationship historyâ and the now new CEO of Royal Wintersâ stalked out, voice clipped, speaking in an angry rhythm to the clicks of her red high heels as she moved past me without acknowledgment.
"That budget won't work," she said dismissively, long black hair tumbling down her shoulders in waves, glossy and perfect. Her black pencil skirt and blouse fit her like a glove, perfect and without blemish. She wore her clothes like armor. Where people found fault with everything she did, no one could deny that her fashion sense was impeccable.
"We can't afford to go any higher," a second voice replied, pulling my eyes back towards the elevator like a moth to a flame.
Laurence Royal was an incredibly handsome man, with a sharp, strong jaw, thick wavy black hair that was slicked back out of his face, and a strong build with broad shoulders. His attractiveness level was high on the distracting scale. He was the quiet typeâ unless he was arguing with Allie, in which case, he came alive, his tone sharp, eyes ablaze.
It quickly became clear to anyone who knew him that he had once been very smitten with Allie... until she broke his heart, got him arrested for attempted murder, then bought his company after tanking the price, all before demoting him to CFO, and taking creative control. But despite all that, the fire was still there, even if it was more hatred than love.
Laurence Royal walked out, slick black suit polished and perfect. He wore an irritated scowl, already infuriated with whatever Allie had demanded at their weekly budgetary meeting.
But even with that scowl, seeing Laurence Royal was always the highlight of my day. He was that unachievable, safe crush. Because he never noticed me, other than to ask for paperwork, a phone call to be set up, or for me to hand something to Allie when he just couldn't take it anymore.
And just like he did every morning, he walked right past me, without a glance, his closeness both thrilling and frustrating in equal measure.
"The bigger the shoot, the less of a budget you have to work with for the clothes," Laurence continued eyes going down to a set of numbers, brow raised as he glanced through a folder of financials.
Allie walked into her office shouting over her shoulder. "Figure it out! Numbers are your problem!" Then she slammed the glass door shut, which didn't have that satisfying clang that regular doors did, so it came off almost comical.
Laurence glared after her, fingers running angrily through his hair before he stalked off to his office, holding back a set of swears that he never let past his list. But I could see them carved into every feature, ever taught muscle, clenched jaw, rolled fistsâ I yanked my face away from his office, face turning red.
It was far too early in the day to give in to gawking, even though Laurence never noticed. Fortunately, today was a rare occasion where his obliviousness worked well. I looked terrible. Barely passible for our work dress code. Today I didn't want Laurence Royal to see me.
Every employee that worked a front desk had to look somewhat decent. They were the first faces guests saw when they came in. And if they looked... well, like they went through a breakup, cried, and ate food until they fell asleep in front of the television only to wake up, take a two-second shower, and run ten blocks to work, leaving them sweaty and unkempt, they could get fired.
Instead of getting distracted by my very attractive boss, I closed my eyes, taking a moment to wrap my head around the events that led to me nearly getting fired due to dress code violations. Slowly pulling out my phone, I took in the now twenty missed calls from the culprit, my eyes brimming with tears.
Why do you want to talk to me? You've made yourself clear. I'm boring.
I glared at the screen, angry and hurt as I scrolled through the missed calls and messages, fingers gripping the phone so hard that I could feel it protesting my choke hold.
Liam's words were sharp in my mind. I want something more... You are boring Lily Autumns.
I sucked in a deep breath, scrunching my eyes shut.
Don't cry. Just delete his number and forget it ever happened.
A cup of coffee appeared on my desk beside me. I blinked away tears to find Allie standing over my desk, lips pursed as she openly stared down at my phone.
How did she sneak up in those loud heals?!?
Her eyebrows went up as she looked me overâ from my drenched, frizzled hair, and wrinkled dress down to my poop-splattered flatsâ those sharp chocolate brown eyes assessing. I could practically see her eye twitch at the sight of me.
Normally, I attempted to do my hair and wore an outfit that didn't have to go through a chaotic run down ten blocks of busy street. But today, I was just hoping I didn't have to add being fired to my list of very bad events that happened in the last twenty-four hours.
"Sorry," I breathed, face red with embarrassment.
Boring... boring... boring...
Allie looked irritated, eyes narrowing at my words. I went silent, biting back my apologies. What else could I say? I was a mess and currently not the best first face for someone to see at a fashion company.
I'm about to get fired... Oh my gosh... I'm really going to get fired for looking bad at work...
She gestured towards the elevator, face unreadable. "Pick that up and come with me."
Shooting a glance back over my shoulder at Laurence, hoping he would stop whatever was about to happen, I fought my panic and followed Allie. Gripping her coffee, I shuffled into the elevator, dreading what was about to happen.
Allie Winters was known for being dramatic, for being ruthless. And whatever was about to happen was bound to be just as bad as getting dumped in a Kentucky Fried Chicken drive-thru line.
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Thank you for reading chapter one! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes! Add this story to your reading list to know when the next chapter drops!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
What do you think of Lily?
What do you think of her ex-boyfriend Liam?
What are your thoughts on Laurence Royal and Allie Winters?
If you haven't read Allie Winter's story, check out "The CEO and Her Driver"! Link in the comments, here! -->
What does Allie Winters have planned? What is she going to do about Lily?
Do you think Lily will end up getting fired?
CHAPTER QUESTION -Â What did you do for your very first job? Did you enjoy it?