Bound To The Alpha Brothers

The Consequences

I sit in the waiting room at Flynn Properties, unable to feel relaxed. I had taken the receptionist’s offer to come in for an appointment and I had to squat with those who had gotten rooms for a night. The number on the list is Number 6 which means in no distant time, I will going in to speak with the properties manager. Yet even with the good news, I cannot sit still.

The card Seven gave to me is almost in pieces because I have been examining it all day. Anyone could bear Seven although it is not a very popular name. I researched the name and did the probability calculations that it could be the same Seven on the plane. Firstly, it turns out that there are a lot of Seven Flynns on the internet and none of the few profile pictures I cared to glance through looked like Seven.

Since the odds are too high, my mathematical calculations tell me that it is impossible for it to be the same person. Assured by the power of mathematics, I try to relax and feed my eyes.

Or not, I change my mind when I catch a weird looking guy smiling at me. Something is not right and I do not want to stick around to find out what it is.

“Off to somewhere, Miss. . .Maibie?” Miss Marilyn asks me politely as I pick up my handbag and I hear the slight pause just before my last name. Is there something wrong with it? To me, it sounds Japanese but none of my parents are Asian. I make a quick mind note to ask my Dad the next time I speak to him.

“Um. . .I would like to use the restroom.”

The receptionist sits up, disturbed by my excuse. “You just used the restroom few minutes ago. Are you having. . .” she lowers her voice so only I could hear her. “. . .gastric issues?”

“No, no. I’m fine. I just need to. . .retouch my makeup,” I lie shamelessly, holding my bag with a crocodile grip. I own little or no makeup and the little I have consists of basically a face cream and lipstick. I am not daring enough to use the red lipstick Mom had gotten me once and I preferred the nude I had on.

Miss Marilyn looks like she has something to say but swallows it instead. “Well, hurry up in there. You have to return to your seat before it is your turn or we will move on to the next person.”

“Okay. Thank you,” I rush along to the restroom and bolt the door behind me. I dump my bag in the space between the two sinks and stare at myself in the mirror. My eyes are red and I have dark bags under them because I did not sleep as soundly as I would have liked. The new students were up all night, Facetiming their friends and families. I curled into a ball on an old futon and tried to ignore the noisy laughter or loud conversations.

I am never my best when I have little sleep and I just want to get some peaceful shuteye. I am not pressed and there is nothing in my non-existent make-up to fix. Yet, I remain in the restroom, pulling myself together.

“Cincy is a new beginning. Soon, I will have a room and everything will be fine,” I give myself a peptalk, my back straight and my head held up high. To make it seem like I did something while I was in the restroom, I undo my high ponytail and brush it into two pigtails. Then I reapply some nude lipstick and smack my lips together to spread it evenly.

When I look at my reflection, I don’t see the image of Angelina Jolie in my head. I look more like a high school kid and the pigtails made everything worse. I prefer flared skirts to skinny jeans and wore them almost everywhere. At least, I no longer wear those ugly yellow Sunday dresses with white flowers on them. I donated them to charity before moving to Cincinnati.

My doll face is not helping matters either and I soon grow bored of looking at my reflection. As for my escape plan, it is busted because the window is too small for me to crawl out of, despite how tiny I was.

“You got this. You merited this admission. Now, go get that room!” I cheer myself on and exit the restroom, slamming the door behind me. I return to the reception office just in time and it is my turn to go in. Miss Marilyn leads me down the hallway and asks me to knock before going in.

When she goes back to her cubicle, I knock on the door, admiring the white ceramic tiles adorning the floor. Everything on the building look expensive from the plush cushions in the waiting room to the heavy air conditioners hung on the walls. I wait to be asked to come in but there is no reply from within.

I knock again yet I get no response. What am I supposed to do now? I consider my options, tapping my lower lip with a finger. I could return to the waiting room or. . .I could just let myself in. I place a hand on the door handle, suppressing a yawn. Finally, I make up my mind and step into the office.

I am immediately blown away by the sweet ambience of the office. The space is massive and if I throw my bag to the opposite wall, it would not get to it. The most amazing thing about it is the stark white interior design and I find my head turning around to feed my eyes. No one is seated behind the big brown mahogany desk situated in front of a big ass window. Hmm, strange.

“Wow,” I exclaim when I see an electric fireplace and a tabletop refrigerator stacked in one corner of the office. Whoever works in here is living my dream life and I am so jealous. A white sofa is located close to a wall and I am pulled to it as if I am under a trance. I am not supposed to enter the office without permission but for a soft looking sofa, damn the consequences!

The wall it leans against blocks it from view if someone were to walk in. So, I sit on it, sinking into the wonderful creation. A sigh leaves my lips as I slip my feet out of my shoes and fold them under my body. I could definitely nap in something this. . .

No! Bad Merritt! I mentally scold myself, sitting up straight. This is not my office and I am supposed to be sitting on one of the single chairs, not hugging another man’s sofa. But my own advice is lost on me and instead of getting up, I stretch out my legs, enjoying my little freedom. My eyes threaten to close when I feel sleepy but I tap myself awake, remembering why I could not fall asleep.

One, it is not my office. Two, it is not my sofa. Three. . .three. . .

My head hit the armrest as my tired body gets the better of me and I fall asleep on the heavenly soft sofa.