More Kicks

SHEILA

I wake up with a start, groaning at the sound of my alarm clock blaring in my ear. It's Monday morning, the bane of my existence. I rub my eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, and glance at the clock. 7:30 AM.

Great, just great. I have precisely fifteen minutes to get ready for work. Why do I always hit the snooze button one too many times?

I rush to the bathroom, almost tripping over my own feet in the process. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and I have to admit, I look like a hot mess. My curly hair is a wild tangle of bedhead, and my eyes still have the remnants of sleep crusted at the corners. I squint at my reflection, trying to decide if I have enough time for a quick shower or if I'll have to settle for a splash of water on my face. Who am I kidding? A shower is out of the question. Water on the face it is.

I quickly splash my face with water, trying to wake myself up. "Come on, Sheila, you can do this," I mutter to myself. I reach for my toothbrush, only to realize I'm out of toothpaste. Of course, I am. I mentally add it to the shopping list as I brush my teeth with water alone. It'll have to do for now.

Back in my room, I tackle my unruly hair, attempting to tame it into some semblance of order. "Please cooperate just this once," I plead with my stubborn locks. They refuse to listen, of course, and I end up throwing my hair into a messy bun, hoping it looks somewhat presentable. A spritz of dry shampoo to mask the fact that I didn't have time to wash it, and I'm almost ready.

I rummage through my closet, trying to find something suitable to wear. Why is it that on mornings when I'm in a rush, I can never find anything I want to wear? Finally, I settle on a simple blouse and a pair of jeans. It's casual Friday every day for me. Who am I kidding? It's casual Friday every day of the week.

With my outfit in place, I grab my bag and rush back to the mirror for a final check. I sigh at the reflection staring back at me. I may not look like a runway model, but at least I'm somewhat presentable. A little mascara, a touch of lip gloss, and I'm good to go.

I grab my keys and phone from the kitchen counter, giving my one last look as I dash out the door.

The moment I step outside, I'm greeted by the hustle and bustle of the city. People rushing to catch their buses, cars honking impatiently, and the aroma of coffee wafting from the nearby café. Ah, the sweet smell of caffeine. I could really use a triple shot right now.

I navigate the morning chaos, narrowly avoiding colliding with a cyclist, and finally make it to the bus stop just in time to see the bus pulling away. Of course, Murphy's Law is in full effect today. I let out a defeated sigh and glance at my watch. 8:00 AM. I'm officially going to be late for work. Again.

I take out my phone, contemplating whether to call a cab or wait for the next bus. But finally, I settle for a cab.

Of course, when I finally arrive at the office, my boss is waiting for me with that all-too-familiar disapproving look on his face. "Sheila, can I see you in my office, please?"

I nod sheepishly and follow him, already knowing what's coming. I've been late more times than I can count this month, and it's no surprise that I'm about to get a stern talking-to.

As we step into his office, I take a deep breath and try to look as apologetic as possible. "I'm really sorry about being late again, Mr. Johnson. It won't happen again, I promise."

He sighs, rubbing his temples. "Sheila, this is the third time this month. I can't keep making excuses for you. I'm afraid I have no choice but to let you go."

I feel like the floor just dropped out from under me. "Wait, what? You're firing me?"

Mr. Johnson looks genuinely sorry, but he nods. "I'm afraid so. This is a professional setting, and I need employees who can be reliable and punctual."

I try to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over, but it's no use. "I understand," I say, my voice cracking. "I'm really sorry."

He gives me a sympathetic look. "I know you're a hard worker, Sheila, but you need to take this as a lesson for the future. Being on time is crucial in any job."

I nod, wiping away a tear. "I will. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to work here."

He pats my shoulder gently. "Take care, Sheila. I wish you all the best."

I gather my things, feeling a mix of emotions as I walk out of the office for the last time. Part of me is devastated, but another part is strangely relieved. Maybe this is the push I need to find something better, something that's a better fit for me.

I walk out of the office building, my heart heavy with disappointment and frustration. Getting fired was not how I imagined my day going, but I guess life loves throwing curveballs my way. I decide I need some caffeine to lift my spirits, so I head to my favorite café.

As I step inside, the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee envelops me. I order my usual, caramel macchiato, and find a cozy corner table. I take a deep breath, trying to shake off the negativity from the morning.

Just as I start to relax, I glance across the room and freeze. There he is, Zachary Montgomery, my ex-boss, the man who treated me like a doormat, and the one I couldn't help but have a secret crush on. Why, of all days, does he have to be here now?

But damn, he's a sight to behold. Tall and handsome, with dark, tousled hair that gives him that perfect just-rolled-out-of-bed look. His enchanting eyes are the kind that could easily get you lost in their depths. They're the color of melted chocolate, warm and inviting, and they hold a glimmer of mischief that always keeps you guessing.

As he adjusts his tie, I can't help but feel a little flutter in my stomach. He looks so effortlessly put together, like he just stepped out of a men's fashion magazine. It's almost unfair how good he looks in a suit.

He catches me staring and his face morphs into a look of surprise. Slowly a smirk stretches on his lips, and he raises an eyebrow in a teasing manner. I quickly avert my eyes, pretending to be engrossed in my coffee cup.

Smooth, Sheila, real smooth.

I mean, who wouldn't be a little distracted by Zachary’s charm? It's like he has this magnetic pull that draws everyone's attention. But I'm not going to let myself get swept away by his allure. No way. I'm perfectly capable of keeping my cool... or at least attempting to.

I take another sip of my macchiato, trying to focus on anything else but the captivating man across the room. The café is bustling with people, the chatter and laughter filling the air. It's a perfect distraction, I tell myself. But then, my eyes betray me, and they find their way back to Zachary.

I shake my head, trying to snap myself out of this ridiculous trance. "Come on, Sheila, get a grip," I mutter under my breath, hoping that my coffee cup will lend me some of its magical focus powers.

Just as I think I've finally regained control over my wandering thoughts, someone says from behind me, "Hey there, Sheila. Long time no see."

I close my eyes, not daring to look up. His voice sends shivers down my spine, and I feel my cheeks turning pink. "Uh, hi," I mumble, turning around to face him and hoping he'll leave me alone.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says, looking as cool as a cucumber.

Up close, his lips look tantalizing and ripe for kissing and I wonder how they’ll feel against mine.

I try to play it cool, but my heart is doing a little tap dance in my chest. "Oh, you know, just couldn't resist the temptation of a good caramel macchiato."

He chuckles, sliding into the seat across from me. "Can't argue with that. They do make the best ones here. I haven't seen you since you left the company."

"Yeah, well, you know, life moves on," I reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

He leans back in his chair, a playful glint in his eyes. "I must admit, things haven't been the same since you left. It's been boring without our little debates."

I raise an eyebrow, a mix of surprise and annoyance. "Debates? You mean the times you shot down all my ideas and made me feel like I knew nothing?"

Zachary chuckles, and it's infuriating how charming he can be. "I never said you knew nothing. I just wanted you to prove yourself."

I roll my eyes. "Well, thanks for the vote of confidence."

He reaches across the table and touches my hand. "Sheila, you're talented. You just needed a little push."

I pull my hand away, not wanting to be swayed by his smooth words. "A little push? More like a bulldozer."

He laughs again, but it only stirs up anger within me.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" he asks, his expression turning serious.

I sigh, feeling the weight of the day settle back onto my shoulders. "Yeah, well, I got fired today. I guess it was bound to happen. I never really fit in there."

Zachary leans in, his gaze intense. "You're good at what you do. You have so much potential, and they couldn't see it."

I feel my heart flutter, but I quickly push it down. I look away, trying not to let his words affect me. "It doesn't matter now. It's over. And thanks, but I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity," he insists, his voice earnest. "I genuinely believe you're capable of great things."

I glance around the café, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "Can you leave me to my thoughts, please?"

"Sure," he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "How about you give me a call about your old position at my company?"

I raise an eyebrow, unbelievably. "Is this all a game to you?"

He smirks, leaning in closer. "You're out of a job and I'm offering you one. I don't see how that's a game."

I narrow my eyes, not sure if I trust him. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," he says, holding up his hands. "Just offering you a job."

Oh, hell no. I won't let him drag me back into that home ever again. "I’m not interested.”

“Think about it and let me know what you think.”

And with that, he rises from his seat, his imposing height, towering over me.

“I’ll be expecting your call.”