You're Trouble

Freya Scott's Prov.

That Saturday arrived just as any other Saturday would. I lifted my feet sluggishly down the stairs of my house, a yawn struggled into my throat that I fought to not release. The yawn had its victory as I reached my feet upon the end of the stairs.

"Don't yawn," my mom's voice hollered from the kitchen, "You'll make us all tired."

I internally chuckled as I managed to bring myself to her in my drowsy state. Slumping unto the stool that laid by the kitchen corner, I outstretched my arms. A yawn escaped through my lips once again. A women with brown hair twisted into a pony tail eyed me as she planted a plate of freshly toasted pop tarts in front of me.

"I mean it," she situated her hands upon her hips.

A drained attempt of a smile filled my lips. "I know."

I bit into my pop-tarts as the sweetness of strawberries slide along my tongue. I savored the taste as my hunger dropped to an ease. The first one had been devoured within seconds after my 'savoring' taste. I swiftly bitten a chunk into my second, and last tart.

"How has school been?" she slipped her towel into her apron, having been finished cleaning the stove, "Anything interesting?"

I coughed unto my pop tart. It hadn't been an unusual question for my mother to ask. No, it had been rather occasional. It had only been due to the fact she hadn't mentioned of school since I met Lacey. My mother crossed her arms as she slipped her eyes into a roll. "You need to stop eating so fast," she addressed my coughs.

Upon catching my breath, I felt the need to object. It hadn't been eating fast that caused me to choke; though I thought better of beginning that topic. "School has been school," I responded in an upbeat tone, "You know my violin keeps improving."

"That's good honey," my mom beamed, "But..." her voice trailed off along with her attention. Her copper eyes fell unto the stove's clock, "You better hurry before you are late to work."

"Oh crap!" I exclaimed seeing the time. I gathered my keys and purse that lingered aside the stairway. I slipped on my shoes, not bothering to tie them as I stumbled to the door. "Bye mom! Love you," I called while existing the front door.

"Be care-!" the door fell into a crashing close.

A Drive Later

I arrived at a storefront consumed by glass panels. Four sets of glass doors were situated bordering another. Each set of doors hadn't displayed a clear indicator of which was the designated exit or entrance unlike most stores. These two sets of doors acted as either. I stepped foot through the doors the laid on my right side, closet to me. My eyes scanned the familiar layout of the area. Rows of shelved racks were found on either side of me, placed into rows. There had been at least six of them.

All those racked shelves laid with random items that had a somewhat recognizable layout. Beyond the racks, you would find yourself walking through an arrangement of furniture. The end walls of the store had polls lining from one wall to another. Clothing laid on hangers that clung unto those shining metal polls.

My feet soon laid near the back wall. There were two sets of door in the very edge of the shopping front. Two metal double doors with small rectangular windows positioned themselves evenly with the walls either side of them. Then, in the far left corner, laid a faded blue door. That door had been the one my feet stood before.

Pushing the heavy door aside, I entered what had been our employee break room. The room, itself, had fell barely a quarter size of what our customer shopping area had been. A red couch with ragged silk cushions laid centered along the wall on my right hand side. Two musky armchairs with black and green coloring were aligned in front of the couch.

The flooring below me had been a stained grey carpet whilst contrasting the walls with a boring mustard yellow. On the far wall, opposite to the one I came through, there had been white counter tops with a microwave and shining black fridge.

Least to say, every instant I stepped foot into our break room, I felt appalled by the lack of taste and effort gathered into creating it. A girl with a blacken bob hair style, brown eyes, wearing a white collared shirt paired with black jeans leaned against the fridge. She had been the only soul present in the room. Her name was Ryan.

My feet drug themselves to the designated seating. I dipped into the red couch. Ryan eyed me suspiciously. She closed the gape between us, settling herself into one of the open armchairs.

She leaned on the edge of the chair, appearing to examine me, "Why are you 30 minutes early?"

I released a stiff breath. "My mom thought I was late... and so did I," I mumbled through my teeth. Ryan coughed on a laugh, which she had attempted to remain silent. I laid my back further into the cushioned couch while leaking a frustrated noise from my mouth.

"I just want to go back to bed," I griped.

Ryan switched unto the couch; Plopping down aside me, causing a jump to wave within her bob haircut. The couch uplifted unto my side due to her seeking into the other end of the couch. "Guess what," her tone fell flatly, "We got a new hire..." she muffled without allowing me the actual option of replying.

Without notice, the backroom door flung to a open state. My eye caught unto a familiar wave of scarlet locks. The girl promptly strutted into the room, laying her black eyes into mine. Her hair aligned both sides of her fairly pigmented face. She shuffled her thickly, ridged eyebrow to a raise. Anxiety trickled into my stomach, leaving me in an edgy state. What was she doing here?

"Hi there Freya," her teeth made their appearance as her upper lip lifted. Her voice sweetened upon pronouncing my name; the way it slipped off her tongue in that tone sent pleasure ringing into my ears. Ryan switched her attention awkwardly from Lacy to I.

"Well... you too look like you should talk," Ryan rose to her feet. She disappeared as she managed to swing aside Lacey, excusing herself from the break room. Lacey's eyes, nor mine, detached upon her exit.

"Are you stalking me?" my tone sharply spoke in a hushed volume. All seriousness built up through my nerves, I couldn't imagine her discovering a lie to wiggle herself out of this one. A sly smile gripped unto her lips, she slide aside to me on the couch. Our arms brushed.

She chuckled. "No, that'd call for me doing work. I just asked a certain friend where you work at," she informed me in a matter of fact structure. My lips fell into a gape at how smoothly the words escaped her throat. "Did you want me to stalk you?" she counter as she lent further into my shoulder.

My eyes addressed her shoulder, a faint shiver swept gradually up my arm. A following shudder tumbled through my stomach. I gazed myself into a blank state of mind; a drift entering my brain. As if satisfied by my lack of a response, she lent her lips further while approaching my ear. "Do you...?" she whispered.

No, this is wrong. I'm not falling into this. Mustering my strength, I lifted myself to my feet to pull myself from her grip that she held unto me in that moment. "Stop that," I squinted my eyes, "That isn't funny."

Lacey swung her leg over her other whilst shrugging her shoulders. "Sorry," she commented, "It was just a joke."

This girl is trouble.

"How long do you plan on working here?" I interrogated her with a chilling tone, "And why?"

Lacey, once again, shrugged her shoulder. "Until I get you know you," she sighed heavily, raising unto her feet. She aligned with me, out stretching a hand, "Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I'd like to be your friend. Can we be friends? I'll limit my jokes."

Uncertainty washed over my blue eyes as I examined her face. I couldn't see any dishonesty in what she had responded to me with. "Alright," I with held her hand, "We can start fresh."