The sound of Izzy’s alarm buzzed through the apartment at 6:30 a.m. sharp.
She groaned, rolled over, and slapped the snooze button with a sleepy hand. Then she remembered what day it was.
Friday.
The company retreat.
She sighed and sat up slowly, blinking away sleep. Her suitcase sat half-open by the dresser, clothes spilling out from her last-minute packing the night before.
“Ugh,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes. “Why do I always do this to myself? I literally have nothing to wear”
From the kitchen came a cheerful voice.
“Because you’re a workaholic who can’t decide what to wear,” Maya called out, holding up a steaming mug of coffee like a prize.
Izzy turned and smiled weakly. “You’re up early.”
“I had to make sure you don’t show up looking like a tired intern,” Maya teased. She
