"I hate my boss."
"I hate him."
That was my Monday morning mantra now apparently.
Two months into my job at Hextech Limited and I was already convinced the place was slowly draining the life out of me. Not dramatically. Just steadily. Like a leaking tap.
Today was no different.
I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the water run hotter than necessary like it could somehow burn the exhaustion off me. It didn't. I stepped out still tired, still dreading, still very much alive unfortunately.
I pulled on my white top — my everyday white top, the one that had seen better days but still looked decent enough and then I reached into the wardrobe for my black skirt.
It wasn't there.
I blinked.
Checked again.
Still not there.
Then it hit me.
The rain. Last night. The clothesline.
"Argh!"
The sound that left my mouth was somewhere between a groan and a scream. I pressed my hand over my face and stood there for a full three seconds.
That skirt was literally the only thing I could wear to that office without getting a look from Mrs. Clerk. Everything else was either too casual, too old or too—
Wait.
I dropped to my knees and yanked open the bottom drawer of my wardrobe. Shoved past a folded sweater, an old scarf, two mismatched socks—
There.
My old high school skirt. Black. Folded neatly like it had been waiting patiently for a moment of desperation exactly like this one.
I held it up.
It was short. Fucking short.
But it was black. It was all I had.
I tugged it down. It snapped back up, tugged it again, Same result.
with a skirt this tight and this short, my pantie line just keep showing
That's it
I'm not gonna wear panties
Butttt…One bend — just one — and I'd be exposing my pussy to the world.
I had a plan.
Leave early. Beat everyone in. Walk straight to my desk without stopping. Sit down and not get up until it was absolutely necessary. And Mrs. Clerk — I needed to stay as far away from Mrs. Clerk. That woman notices everything. The last thing I needed was her sharp gaze traveling south and finding a reason to make my Monday ten times worse than it already was.
I grabbed my bag, smoothed the skirt down one last time — futile, completely futile — and headed for the door.
Just get to the desk. Just get to the desk. Just get to the desk.
I made it.
I pushed through the glass doors at 7:34AM — earlier than I had ever arrived in my two months at Hextech — walked straight to my desk without making eye contact with a single soul and sat down like my life depended on it.
And just like that, the skirt situation was contained. For now.
I exhaled slowly and pulled my screen on.
"You're early."
I looked up. Anika was already at her desk beside mine, coffee in hand, perfectly pressed as always. Hair laid. Nails done.
Sitting like she was waiting to be photographed.
"Yeah," I said simply. "Wanted to get a head start."
She tilted her head and looked at me the way you look at something mildly confusing. "That's… weird. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine Anika."
"You just never come in this early." She shrugged one shoulder.
Anika was Anika. She smiled at you and meant none of it.
I turned back to my screen and started working.
I had barely made a dent in my pile when Mrs. Clerk appeared, dropped a thick new stack of files on my desk and straightened up.
"Boss Dylan needs those completed in thirty nine minutes. He said it's urgent."
I stared at her.
"Thirty nine—"
She was already walking away.
I looked at the files. Then at my existing pile. Then back at the new files.
Can today get any worse?
I cracked my knuckles and got to work.
Fifteen minutes in I was actually making progress. Head down, fingers moving, completely zoned in. Maybe — just maybe — I could pull this off.
"Why is Boss Dylan sending work to your desk?"
I didn't need to look up to know who it was.
Anika stood at the edge of my desk, eyes on the files, arms crossed. Her coffee mug dangled from one finger like an accessory.
"He sends work to the whole team Anika," I said without looking up.
"Not like this." She gestured at the pile. "This looks personal. Why would he specifically send files to you?"
"I don't know. Ask him."
She let out a short laugh. "You? He gave this to you?" She said it like the idea was genuinely offensive. "Do you know how long I've been working here? I have been trying to get his attention for months and he's giving assignments to — " she looked me up and down slowly " — you?"
I stopped typing.
Looked up at her.
"Anika, Maybe if you spent less time watching his office and more time working, he'd notice."
I regretted it the second it left my mouth.
The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut through.
"Excuse me?" Her voice dropped low.
I said nothing. Just kept typing. Eyes forward.
"Oh you think you're funny now?" She stepped closer. "You've been here two months. Two months. You don't even know how things work around here little girl."
"I know I have thirty nine minutes to finish this pile," I said quietly. "So if you don't mind—"
Anika looked at me. Then at her mug. Then back at me.
And she tipped it.
It happened so fast I didn't even process it immediately. I looked down at my top and then back at her and the empty mug in her hand.
The office went dead silent.
Anika's eyes were wide. "It was an accident—"
"Was it?" I said through gritted teeth.
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
I grabbed my bag and made a run for the bathroom.
I pulled my jacket from my bag — thank God I had it — and buttoned it all the way up.
I stepped out and made straight for the elevator. Head down. Fast.
The doors were already open.
I stepped in without looking up.
The elevator didn't move.
I frowned and finally looked up.
Boss Dylan stood in the corner of the elevator, phone in hand, eyes already on me. Calm. Like he had been watching me rush in and had simply decided to say nothing about it.
The doors slid shut behind me.
Just the two of us.