The New Girl

Here is another piece of me. I hope you all enjoy.

XOXO SkylerLuv

******

"Have you seen the new girl yet?" Pen whispers as she nears my cubicle.

Her short copper hair is pushed aside by a small yellow pin. She is dressed in business attire but it does nothing to hide her curves. Penelope is just your average attractive redhead with green eyes. Her charming personality is another plus and the main reason we are friends. Not a lot of people can deal with my dry and sometimes dark humor. Had we met in high school we would have never crossed paths. Or maybe we would have. She claims to have been friends with everyone at her high school. I do not doubt it.

I go through my emails, trying to wake up after getting a late start to my morning.

"No, and I don't really care." I blow a strand of hair away from my face. I often use my hair to build a curtain around me. On good days, it was voluminous enough to shield me from the curious whispers of those around me. Today it is acting tame but I know it is only a matter of time before it gets a mind of its own. I don't mind as long as it keeps people away. It is glossy and black, coming down in loose waves stopping just above my elbows today. I didn't have the upper body strength or patience to put it up today.

I think back to how short it was when I started here. The longer it grew, the less inclined I was to get to know others. Each inch marking a friendship I have passed up on. I have been with this company for one whole year and not a lot of people can say much about me, aside from Pen. They know I work hard, turn in my work on time, and stay out of anyone's way while maintaining a good name brand. They don't know how I take my coffee, what music I listen to, or what my favorite dish is. To them, I am seconds away from laser shooting anyone who tries to impose themself in my private life. They are not completely off target.

At 5 feet and 5 inches, with soft curves and dark eyes I am nothing but a plain Jane. I have no freckles or beauty marks to make me memorable. I normally wear dark color suits to work, comfortable shoes, and just hints of makeup. Mascara, eye liner, chapstick, and eye shadow if I am feeling adventurous. My dark hair is probably my best attribute but still not enough to make people fall over themselves. If they do, it is usually because of my death stare. Okay, maybe I am being a little dramatic. But I definitely do not smile as much as women are expected to. A lot less than even the gruffiest old fart that works here.

I recently graduated college, and this is my first job straight out of college. I have my own apartment and a car. I rarely drink, never smoke, and think Netflix is all I needed to have a good night. Books used to be my guilty pleasure but I haven't done it in a long time. My parents live across the country and I talk to them every so often. At this moment they are more engaged with my younger brother, Bobbie, who is in his second year of college.

Personal details like that just seem trivial to me. Why would anyone care and why would I offer that information? Pen is the only person who knows some things and that's because she's not afraid of me or my answers. She voluntarily gives me too much information but I have learned to listen when I can and ignore her when I want. Although she makes it hard when she talks about her interesting life. I often wonder what I would do in certain situations she puts herself in but then I remember I am not the star of this show and I get over it.

"I hear she is cute." She brings me back to the present.

"Again, I don't really care. What are you doing in my work space anyways?" I shoo her hip away from the corner of my desk.

"Your cubicle is right near the restrooms. If I was new, that would be the first place I would go to once I made myself comfortable." She continues to lean against my desk and brushes my attitude away. "Might want to drink some coffee before introducing yourself. You need a quick pick me up." Her eyes continue to stray towards the restroom doors.

"Pen, any other morning I would entertain your whims, but I really need to prepare for our meeting this morning. Don't you have a short presentation as well?" I grumble.

Pen works in the sales department while I work in IT. Once a month we have a meeting with other departments to go over any pressing changes or just to give an update on how the different aspects of the business are going. Today is that day. Yay.

She stomps her feet and practically whimpers. "Give me a break Annie! This is the most exciting thing that has happened since you got here. Hearing people talk about your dark features and even darker personality. I couldn't get through a single conversation that didn't involve you." She lightly pushes my shoulder. "For a second I thought you would be competition for the next office cutie but I still hold that crown."

"I would never fight you over that crown and you know that. Plus, the guys here are nothing to fight over." I reply to one last email and open my presentation slides to look over them once more.

"Yeah, but that's because you're into girls and you never find anyone attractive." Her eyes are glued to the restroom door. She pretends to pick up some papers on my desk and shuffles through them to look busy.

I snatch them out of her hands and finally get up to push her out of my cubicle. Just like no one in the office knows what kind of music I listen to, no one can say what my sexual preference is. It is probably one of the most interesting facts about me and one that I prefer to keep on the down low. No need to call any unwanted attention to myself.

She pushes against me but I grab her shoulders and force her to turn her around so that I am pushing her from behind.

"Out!" I grumble.

"Oof!" A little too late I realize I just pushed Pen into an oncoming stranger who has just spilled coffee all over their white blouse.

My eyes widen, the blood rushes to my cheeks.

Pen throws her hands up in a defensive position. The stranger stands there, registering what just happened. For a few excruciating long seconds no one says anything.

Pen is the first one to break the silence. "Oh my God! I'm so sorry! I didn't-" She runs away from the scene, leaving the new hire and myself alone.

Her hair is up in a high bun with long bangs almost touching her eyelashes. She has light brown eyes and a darker skin tone than I do. I have to look up at her because she's wearing heels and she is naturally taller than I am. She has more pronounced curves than I do but not as much as Pen. I look at her ruined white top and rush up to her before stopping inches away from her body. My hands are out as if I want to clean her shirt but I have nothing to clean it with.

"I'm sorry." I ball my hands into fist and drop them at my sides. She gives me a small smile and for some reason that makes me feel even worse. I feel my eyes begin to get misty and my fists begin to shake. Get a grip! I don't get emotional at work. Especially not over something so small. Something so insignificant.

But that is such a classic move for me. While most might be mistaken and think that I am coordinated and always have my shit together I am actually a major clutz. The reason people think otherwise is because I am always super careful with anything that I do and it takes me almost twice as long to do something if I want it done perfectly. If I am ever put on the spot that requires me to be any type of athletic test, I am royally screwed. Even getting coffee is sometimes a feat that I have to carry out before anyone gets into the office. Whenever I am not careful I just mess things up. Like this poor girl's shirt.

"It is okay." Her voice comes out deeper than I expect. She sticks out her hand.

I stare at it, not wanting to shake her hand lest she feels how much my own is shaking.

"Do you have another shirt to change into?" I avoid looking directly into her eyes. I know she can see I am on the verge of tears and that makes it even worse. She should be the one that is crying. I ruined her shirt before she even got to start her first day at work.

She opens her mouth but just shakes her head. She even has the audacity to look embarrassed, as if this is any of her fault. This is not her mess to clean up, it is mine.

With new determination in my eyes, I go back into my office to snatch my car keys and log out of my computer. I have 15 minutes before our meeting. I grab her arm and drag her out through the back of the building, towards the garage.

"Umm..." She doesn't say anything else.

I continue to pull her along.

I finally let go once we are at the back of my old Sentra. I pop the trunk and rummage through the duffle bag I keep back here for emergencies like this. There are a couple of work pants, some stockings, and finally some blouses. I glance back to look at her a couple of times and finally go with one that I think will fit her.

I close my trunk and then pull her to the side of my car so that we can't be seen by anyone nearby. I am in the zone, the solution zone, ready to save the day and make everything better. It is not until I try to unbutton her shirt that she grabs my hands and speaks up.

"What are you doing?" The curiosity in her eyes is evident. No annoyance or disgust.

I finally snap out of it and realize what I was just about to do. "Sorry." I snatch my hands back.

She clutches the blouse I gave her.

"Just try that on, it might be a little small but it will be better than what you have on." I turn my back to give her some privacy. Looking down at my watch I think about wringing Pen's neck. She is just as much at fault as I am. She ran away as soon as it came down to fixing the problem. There would not have even been a problem if I started my morning alone. Still, I knew I would not blame Pen if it came down to pointing fingers.

My eyes stray to the car next to me. It is hard to miss the mirror pointed directly at the new girl behind me. I try to pry my gaze away but curiosity wins. The black blazer she was wearing is now on top of my car. She unbuttons the white shirt and pulls it out of her black slacks. She's wearing a plain white bra. No lace, nothing fancy. And yet I feel my cheeks heating up. Her breasts are big enough to fill the cups. My gaze travels down and I notice a small scar above her belly button.

She stops moving and I look up at her face to see her staring straight at me. My eyes widen and I clear my throat before looking away.

"Thank you." She murmurs after some time.

I turn back and look at how my shirt fits on her. Because her breasts are bigger and she is taller, the shirt comes down just enough to cover her stomach.

"I'm really sorry." I try apologizing again. Not only did I ruin her shirt, but I just stared at her like some pervert as she changed into my shirt. I am the literal worst.

She shakes her head. "No harm, no foul. I just have to remember not to raise my hands today. See you around." Her hand raises a bit as she waves.

I find it hard to look away from the exposed skin between the hem of the shirt and top of her slacks.

******

I can't completely ignore her during the meeting.

Just like all others have done before her, she is made to stand up and introduce herself as the new hire. She also has to sing a song and opts for some Katy Perry song I heard on the radio. When I was put on the spot like that, I went with some old nursery rhyme that was hard to mess up. I miss her name because I am completely focused on my notes. I don't want to ask those around me because then it would show that I am actually interested. I can't let them think that.

People fall in love with her during the meeting. I can't lie, she does have some type of enthralling energy. She is personable and attractive. Eager to learn about the company and ready to get her hands dirty. She's going to be in sales with Pen's group.

Pen. I roll my eyes.

After the meeting she rushes to my side and apologizes for leaving me alone with the new girl.

"I rushed to the restroom to get paper towels but they were all out. I tried to go to the second-floor restroom but by the time I came back you both were gone." She is pouting and trying to be cute.

"I told you I didn't care who the new girl was. That was all your fault." I won't let her off so easily. I could have gone through my morning without any of that.

"I said I was sorry!" She's whining again.

I block the entrance to my cubicle and glare at her. "Enough. Just leave me out of your dumb antics in the future."

She sighs and hangs her head. "Fine. Will you finally forgive me?"

I cross my arms. "I'll see you at lunch."

That is enough to have her practically skipping back to her desk. All if forgiven.

We rarely argue. Mostly because I don't care to waste my time with arguments and because she usually always gets what she wants. Since she is the only one who will tolerate me it is hard to stay mad at her.

******

I don't see the new hire for the rest of the week.

She is kept busy with training from her team members. Pen gives me a play by play of how she is doing and how quickly she is able to pick up some of the sales terminology. Her team is happy to have her, just like everyone else in the office. I don't miss how others change the way they talk or stand when she is heading their way. That is usually my cue to leave. Seeing her is just a reminder of how I almost lost it at work over some spilled coffee.

While I try to avoid her for personal reasons, I make sure to leave a cup of coffee with cream and sugar packets on her desk every morning. She probably knows it is from me but is nice enough not to mention it. The ebbing embarrassment renews every time I set the coffee down on her desk. I get there early enough not to have to explain to anyone else why I am doing it. Especially to Pen. Knowing her, she can see the coffee thing as something more than an apology. I decide one week's worth of coffee should be enough to get my apology across.

Pen can't seem to stop talking about her though. In the morning, during lunch, even after work she gives me little details about Quin. Quin is an odd name but I don't mention it. In fact I pretend not to care about anything Pen says when it comes to her. Partly because I don't see why I should give her any importance and the other because I don't want Pen to assume I am interested in her. Quin... doesn't really roll off the tongue.

I'm logging out of my computer and gathering my things as Pen goes on and on about today's training session with Quin. Apparently, the customers fall for her charms just as easily as others in the office do.

"Her voice is just so reassuring and caring. Not something you can fake so easily." Pen babbles on and on and I finally tune her out. If I keep tabs of everything the new girl is doing, I could be promoted to stalker status without meaning to. So far, I know that she is caring, beautiful, and laid back. Things I could have attested for myself just from looking at her. She is also very loyal, smart, and eager to please the hire ups. She'll do good. I think. I don't know for sure and I don't care.

"Okay, Pen." I finally sigh out loud. That is her cue to stop talking. There is only so much I can listen to without getting a headache.

"Fine." She hops off my desk and walks with me as we head out the back door.

We walk in silence towards our respective cars. She parked on the other side of the garage. We say goodbye before turning in opposite directions. We're one of the last ones in the office, leaving only a couple of cars on the first level.

I don't notice the new girl leaning against my car until I almost run into her.

She is wearing a dark gray business suit and a beige shirt. Her black pumps give her more inches to tower over me. The suit is fitted. Very fitted. I try to ignore it.

"Are you avoiding me?" Her tone doesn't sound accusatory. Her tone is playful. Something I am not used to. Even Pen knows to stay away from things like that if she wants me to take her seriously.

Does she not know who I am? I'm sure by now she has gotten a run down on who is who in the office and who to stay away from. Then again, Pen probably gave her some misinformation.

"No." I don't smile back. In the back of my mind all I can see is her coffee-stained white shirt. Ruined. Because of me.

My reaction doesn't deter her. "Here." She gives me a brown shopping bag.

I take it and stare into it. I expect to see the gray blouse I let her borrow but instead I see a tan turtleneck shirt and a bar of chocolate. The overly priced one they sell at retail stores.

"What is this?" I don't want to sound rude but it is not what I expected.

"It is a thank you gift." Like Pen, she does not seem bothered by my forwardness.

"Where is the shirt I gave you?" My face is as blank as the garage walls surrounding us.

"You know, most people would be grateful." Her smile is gone and she actually looks somewhat annoyed.

"I don't like chocolate. And I don't wear turtlenecks." No point in lying to her.

"Oh." She shrugs. "I thought the shirt would look nice on you."

We stare at each other for an awkward moment and when I finally have had enough of... whatever this is, I make a move towards my front door. "See you around."

"Bye Anne." She walks to the driver's side of the SUV parked next to my car.

******

The light on my phone blinks a couple of times before I reach to grab it.

I place my drink next to it and answer it.

"Hi mom." There is an inflection in my tone meant to sound excited. Excitement is not what I would use to describe my conversations with my mom.

"Hi, darling." The endearment falls flat. "Just wanted to check in. It has been a while."

Has it been three weeks already? Our calls are like clockwork. Almost as precise as my visits, which are only on major holidays and her birthday. "Work has kept me busy."

She sighs, following her script to a T. "Well, your father misses you."

"I know, I will see if I can visit soon." My father is probably sitting in his favorite chair, watching an old football game, not at all missing my presence. "Have you talked to Bobbie?"

Talking to my mom doesn't give me the comfort it would give most. She's not mean but she's also not warm. She tries hard to be caring but to an extent. I don't blame her and yet I wish she would try just a little more. I'm not the little girl that would beg for her attention or ask to get a hug or a kiss to feel better. Maybe because I know it will not make me feel better. But I know I am too critical and too harsh and have high expectations. I have to remind myself that I am lucky that I have a mother who calls at all.

"He's doing well." She chats some more about how she's doing and how her garden is holding up. She sighs again, not unusual but more noticeable than before.

"Are you okay? You sound tired." I imagine her leaning against our old kitchen counter, holding on to the cabled phone in one hand and the other inside the pocket of her washed out green apron. Her shabby curls are probably untamed from the heat of the pots and pans. She probably just finished cooking.

"Yes," That is all I get.

Being vulnerable is not something we have much practice in. It is hard not to be concerned when she doesn't add anything else.

"Do you need help with anything?" I already know the answer.

"No, you just make sure you're taking care of yourself." She's probably patting her hand against her hip now. Our conversation has run its course and we are going off script now.

"I miss you guys." I throw out there. Because I hope that if I am honest, it will push her to do the same.

"Take care, sweetheart." Click.

******

On Wednesday afternoon the following week I run into Quin in the restroom.