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Set phasers to stun!

Levihan | Rated for language/Mild mild mentions of doing the deed

It’s on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/27152473

Levi is second to Kenny in the Ackerman gang, it's a family business. Zoë Hanji walks up to him at a disco and the rest is history.

“Set phasers to stun, hot stuff?”

“Zoë.. I still don’t get that reference.”

It’s 9.30pm in Sina, the city that never sleeps. Neon flashes and the image of the serpent illuminates the wet cobblestone streets. It’s an institution- a club that has stood the test of time. It’s interior- an eclectic mix of red velvet couches, a disco ball, black and white tiling, and a disco dance floor. Everyone knows of it’s dubious ownership. Something about a gang- more specifically the Ackermans. But then again, you throw a pebble in Sina and you’re bound to hit an Ackerman establishment. Besides it’s the place to be, and it’s packed on a Friday night.

Who says disco is dead?

The music is good- the best in the city, the drinks are a little pricey but they are strong enough, and the DJ knows her well and queues her requests ahead of everyone else’s. There’s no other reason why it’s her favourite club, Hanji thinks.

She’s in the middle of her dance number to a medley of ABBA hits when she feels his gaze on her.

She makes her way over after he shakes his head at her attempts to get him to join her. She’s slightly disappointed that she has to leave in the middle of Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!, but it is what it is.

“Set phasers to stun, hot stuff?” Hanji says, coquettish.

“Zoë.” He says, “I still don’t get that reference.”

“Then maybe you should think about taking up my offer of a date, Levi...” Hanji says, slick as she leans against the counter.

“And your idea of a date would be to marathon the entirety of Star Wars?” Levi cocks an eyebrow and hands a drink to her.

“Star Trek. And yes. Maybe it’ll help you stay culturally relevant.” She accepts the drink and takes a gulp. A Long Island. Levi remembers. She grins.

“I’ll take your offer into consideration.” Levi says.

There are tattoos sprawling all the way up his neck and down to his hands and her eyes inevitably trail over the serpent tattoos on his chest that are peeking through his dress shirt. Levi notices, corner of his lips curving into a smile.

“So...” He says, “faculty still giving you problems for blowing up your lab?”

“Thank god no... I have the biggest research grant in the faculty, pretty sure they can’t get rid of me that easy. Plus the insurance covers so I’m good...”

“Maybe if you were more careful...” he chides, but his words are gentle and Hanji links her pinky with his. Definitely no other reason she loves this particular club.

“Wait for me, I have a few more songs queued,” she says, although some of the songs are medleys, but Levi doesn’t need to know that.

“One more song. I don’t have anything on tonight. We could go get something to eat.”

They compromise on two songs, with Hanji dragging Levi over to the dancefloor. “If I had known you were gonna dance with me, I would’ve picked a ballad...” she says in his ear as she tries to sway with him to Car Wash. “You didn’t give me much of a choice...” he replies as he twirls her.

The night air is welcome, and after a few hours in the club, Hanji’s ears are ringing. “Come on! I know a place!” She says, grabbing his arm as they make their way past the party people. They are sitting on a public bench as Hanji decimates a chicken shawarma. Levi’s face crumples in disgust as he watches her wipe the sauce off with the back of her hand, still, he passes the napkins to her wordlessly.

“It’s not good?” Hanji says, perplexed, “this is not a good shawarma?” Levi looks at her like she’s the biggest idiot. Because, of course it’s not good? It’s a dismal 1.9 stars in reviews online and their cleanliness leaves much to be desired.

“What gave you the idea it would be good?” Levi frowns, abandoning his greasy chips.

“It says so on the sign! ‘Best Shawarma in Town!’” Hanji says, and she’s climbing on the bench, waving her fist at the shop, “filthy liars!” she shouts.

And Levi laughs, pulling her down into his lap for a kiss.

→

The Serpent is busy on a Saturday night. It isn’t Nanaba and Mike’s typical scene, but Hanji’s enthusiasm for disco has always been contagious. Nanaba has acquired a taste for the Bee Gees.

Target acquired, Hanji makes her way across the dance floor. She excuses herself from her friends, and Nanaba holds Mike back before he can ask her where she’s going, I'll tell you later, she whispers harshly in Mike’s ear and waves Hanji off with a smile.

The crowd swallows her, moving to accommodate her form. She readjusts her dress. It’s black and tight and the slit threatens to expose more than Hanji is willing to show. Her usual club getup in a pile in the corner of her room, Hanji is wearing Nanaba’s dress and she thinks maybe her friend is an opportunist for passing her this particular article of clothing with a giggle and a casual “you can wear this Hans!”

There’s enough alcohol in her system to feel a buzz. Just enough to forget what Shadis had said about professionalism and having impeccable image and greater responsibility from here on, since she now tutors a bunch of freshers. She thinks maybe that can wait until tomorrow. Shadis was young once, he‘ll understand.

Besides, it’s the disco. Nobody here cares. It’s freeing and Hanji leans into it.

She makes her way to him once she decides she can’t get the slit to sit any better on her thigh. He’s alone at the bar, leaning against the counter, watching.

He turns his attention to her now, his hard gaze softening. His eyes wander, skimming across the neckline of her dress down to where her thigh is exposed. He clears his throat.

“What’s with this?” Levi gestures to her dress.

“This is me forgetting to do my laundry and having to borrow Nanaba’s clothes.” Hanji answers, eyes lighting up at an opening, she takes it, “like what you see?”

“You’re not your usual mess...”

“And you mind my usual mess?” She raises a brow.

“I never said I minded.“

Hanji wonders if it’s the spotlights or the gin, because her face is heating up. Someone is stumbling towards the bar counter, and Levi reaches to pull Hanji closer. His hand remains around her waist longer than necessary. But who’s talking about necessity. “You’re alright.” Levi says.

Hanji catches his gaze lingering on her lips and she smiles. He straightens, “how did your first tutorial go?”

“Aced it! Some of them even came for office hours!” Hanji beams, hands on her hips.

“Expected no less...” Levi says, lips curving into a smile.

Hanji grins, “so... Are you free tonight?”

“Maybe not tonight... I’ve got... Things to attend to...”

“Ah...” Hanji leans closer to Levi, “thug things?” She stage whispers.

Levi chuckles, “yeah.” He sets his empty glass down on the bar and he tells her he’s got some time to spare, and she gets his message. She tugs him towards the toilets, her other hand holding her dress down. They make out in one of the empty stalls and I Feel Love streams in, muted as it mingles in the air with the florescent lights.

“Apt...” Hanji murmurs against Levi’s mouth and he looks at her, quizzical.

“The song that’s playing... I Feel Love... It’s apt...” she answers, stilling the both of them so Levi can hear.

Levi laughs, he’s got a hand against the stall that she’s leaning against and he’s looking up at her. There’s a tint on his cheeks and his eyes are glazed over and Hanji takes it as her cue to kiss him again. And Levi’s hand slides along the curve of her waist, down to where the slit of her dress reveals bare flesh. His thumb circles against her skin and her breath hitches. He loosens his collar.

“We need to stop meeting like this...” Levi says, he’s going to be late for his appointment, but he’s transfixed and does nothing to indicate any sense of urgency. Work can wait.

“Mmm... But I like this... Reminds me of the first time we met...” She says as she kisses the beginnings of a smile on the corner of his lips.

“Can I see you tomorrow evening?” Levi says, breathless, because really, it’s stupid that they’re still playing this game. It’s not the 50s and he’s not a boy sitting in the bleachers singing about a girl he likes with his friends chiming in as backup. There is no need for the staring and the pining and the pretending to meet by chance at the disco.

“Finally taking up my offer on a date?” Hanji says, channeling all the composure she has left. But her breathing is heavy and her eyes are hooded, and the florescent lights are casting a lewd glow on Levi’s skin that makes her want to die. “I’ll see you at that diner at 7? The one near Sunset Boulevard. You know which one?” she asks.

“I know. You haven’t stopped talking about that diner.” Levi replies and presses one last kiss to her her cheek before he leaves.

When Hanji makes her way back to join Nanaba and Mike, her hair is a mess and although she’s managed to fix her makeup, there’s still a slight reddish stain where her lipstick was smudged, thank god for the lights.

The night ends with Mike holding a hand out for her as she steps up onto the bar counter to dance. Hanji usually has a certain amount of restraint by this time of the night but it’s the last song and they are playing Bad Girls, and that song has always made her feel some kind of way.

Nanaba is cheering her on before Hanji pulls her onto the bar to dance with her.

→

It’s 7pm and it’s crowded on Sunset Boulevard. There’s a good mix of people from small-time Politicians to thespians to bikers. Hanji has always loved this part of Sina, she thinks it’s apt for a date between a Chemist and a gangster.

Levi is dressed in a white tee and blue jeans and his leather jacket is folded beside him in the booth. And Hanji thinks maybe she’s projecting because she has grown up watching movies from the 50s and 60s. But she’s shamelessly staring at him, head held up by her hands as she sips on her milkshake.

He drinks his tea. And that snaps her from her reverie.

“Who comes to a diner and orders tea?”

“If you had taken two straws instead of one, we could be sharing that milkshake.” Levi says, impassive, and Hanji lights up like a bulb.

The food arrives and Hanji says between bites, “I’m learning so much about you... Levi likes tea, and Levi is not beneath sharing a milkshake with his favourite girl...”

Levi rolls his eyes, but his face breaks into a smile. Hanji hooks their ankles under the table.

“We could go to mine? Take the route along the river?” Hanji says after they pay the bill. She’s never one to beat around the bush and she grins when the realisation spreads on Levi’s face, he opens his mouth, but settles for a nod instead.

Hanji is holding Levi’s hand, even as the river meanders them through the fancy parts of the city. People are definitely staring, but Hanji is talking his ear off about the kids in her class and how they ask her about the process of producing meth and she just... tells them? Because it technically is just chemistry.

“How much detail did you get into?” Levi asks, raising a brow.

“Oh...” Hanji pulls a face that’s an embodiment of yikes, “a lot...”

Levi chuckles, “I’ll tell Kenny to keep a lookout for a bunch of brats graduating in three years...”

“Yeah you do that... The job market hasn’t been particularly kind these days, might actually be a good career option for them.”

People are staring at them because they kind of know who he is, and Hanji points it out with a there's people staring at you, Levi... That's what happens when you're hot huh...

“They’re staring at you weirdo...” Levi mutters, face heating, and Hanji is laughing with her head thrown back and the looks people give them get dirtier. But Hanji is equal parts crazy and just goddam brilliant, and nothing else matters. Except maybe-

“What do you want Kenny?” Levi growls into the phone.

“With that attitude it’s no wonder you can’t find a girl who loves you...” The voice barks through the receiver and Hanji stifles a laugh. “I need your ass down at the warehouse now!”

Levi runs his fingers through his hair and he’s closing his eyes, cursing whatever being that’s up there because they seem hell-bent on tormenting him.

“Thug things?” Hanji offers an apologetic look, “It’s okay... I’m a big girl, I can walk myself!” She says when Levi hesitates.

But really at this point she’s sorry for herself. It’s just been so long since she’s-, and she’s been thinking about Levi a little too much the curve of his lips and his-, and she wants nothing more than to-. Ugh. She bites down on the insides of her cheeks.

Levi sighs, a long-suffering breath of defeat, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in for a kiss. “Mmm... This was a nice date still...” she says, kittenish.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

→

Hanji thinks maybe it had been an oversight to sleep with someone in her postgraduate class. And the smartest one after her at that. Not to mention one who had also been aiming to do a PhD. Because now she’s in the same office as Erwin Smith and it’s kind of weird? Is it? She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, awkward. She opens her mouth to speak and Erwin sighs.

“Hanji... If you’re about to make another weird and honestly considering where we are,” Erwin gestures vaguely around their office, “inappropriate joke, I’m going to stop you right there.”

Hanji laughs and takes her seat across Erwin. “Wasn’t going to!” It had meant nothing. Just two people fooling around amidst the convenience of their shared love for organic chemistry. Hanji curses her younger self and what had been an inclination towards broad shoulders and solid pectorals. Hormones. Then again, it had meant nothing.

“So... What did you do over the weekend?” Erwin asks.

Hanji thinks about the about the bathroom stall of the club, and dancing on the bar counter, and the diner, and-

- and Levi.

She hopes her face isn’t giving anything away.

“Not much... You?”

→

And Levi does make it up to her. It's a Saturday and they are sitting on Hanji's couch marathoning Star Trek. Why are there so goddam many movies? Levi had said, exasperated. But he's on the third movie now and because of Hanji's unceasing commentary (except for when she sobs through The Wrath of Khan), he's starting to get it.

They make out on the couch mid-way through the fourth movie, with Hanji straddling him, and in the sliver of silence that makes its way between kissing and gazing at each other’s faces, Hanji chuckles a "this reminds me of the first time we met..."

Levi cocks an eyebrow, "how much of that night do you actually remember?" Hanji feigns a thoughtful expression, fingers tapping at her chin. "Not much..." she says honestly and Levi shakes his head, "you're hopeless," he says as he scrapes his teeth against her neck. She chortles.

Hanji's eyes flicker toward the television, it's a small movement, a little twitch, but Levi catches it. His face twists into something incredulous, and he's offended really, because it's probably the tenth ("sixth," Hanji corrects) time she's watched this and she’s choosing the movie over- over him? But they compromise and settle on pausing the movie for another time and moving to the bedroom.

→

It becomes a habit, this. This little unspoken arrangement. Hanji stays awake late to work on her paper, so she doesn't mind him knocking on the door at ungodly hours. And really she blames her dedication to her research for the mess she finds herself in one morning.

It starts with the jangle of keys outside her door, and by then, Levi is only just waking up. He shakes her when the footsteps approach, but it's far too little too late. Hanji only opens her eyes when she hears the screaming.

"Zoë Hanji! What is this!"

Hanji is fumbling for her glasses on the night stand and Levi hands them to her. Her eyes are wide and the adrenaline has chased all the sleep from her system.

“Mom? Dad?” Hanji and Levi have now hopped out of bed. She tries for words as she struggles to put her jumper on. She’s holding the duvet like a skirt around her otherwise very bare bottom, and it’s hard to manage that and putting clothes on. Levi helps her with the duvet. She doesn’t process that it’s Levi’s jumper and Levi has no choice but to put her t-shirt on. It’s big and old and Levi is Swimming in it. Well, at least he’s got pants on.

“Zoë! Who is this?”

“How can you just- You- You just came into my apartment?” She manages, because the sleepiness is gone, but the shock remains. Levi is completely mortified, he wishes the ground would swallow him faster because he’s standing there in a shirt with the words “my best friend went to Shiganshina and all I got was this crappy shirt” printed on it in tacky font.

“Our apartment! Don’t forget we own it Zoë! Now who is this! Don’t tell me you’ve been associating with gangst-“

“This is Levi... My boyfriend.”

Levi’s pulse quickens at that word. He gapes at Hanji, then at her parents, then at Hanji again. He wonders if it’s normal for people to turn that shade of grey because Hanji’s parents look every bit petrified. Mrs. Hanji points a trembling finger at him, she looks like she’s about to cry.

“What about Erwin? He’s a nice boy,” her father supplies and she caves, “dad... We were never together...”

There’s chatter, bits of ‘but you brought him home for dinner’ and bobs of ‘he’s doing his PhD too isn’t he?’

“I brought him to dinner to appease you...” Hanji says, her patience hanging by a thread because her mom is yelling something incoherent and her dad is still going on about Erwin.

Finally her mom had enough. “This is just a phase Zoë!”

“I’m twenty seven... I don’t think phases apply anymore?” Hanji laughs humourlessly.

Then the door slams after her mom shouts something about an ultimatum. Something about breaking up with Levi or getting evicted from the apartment.

“That was waaaay too much for the morning...” Hanji says, her voice slicing through the tension that had grown thick around them. She’s feigning an ease that does nothing to hide how frazzled she is. “Sorry about that... My mom can be a bitch when she’s angry... And well... She’s always angry...”

The insults Levi can handle, he’s heard worse. But seeing Hanji like this-

“Look... Your parents aren’t wrong... This isn’t... Usual...”

“I don’t get it though? I mean this city is practically run by the Ackermans! So really, it’s like dating the mayor’s son?”

“Zoë...” Levi chuckles, “it’s not the same?”

Hanji pauses to think. With her scholarship, surviving without the apartment wouldn’t be too difficult. But rent is steep in Sina and this means she’ll probably have to find an apartment on the outskirts. Then she’d have to travel, and everyone knows how Zoë Hanji is with punctuality-

“Does Kenny need someone in clandestine chemistry? I’m really good at-“

Levi cuts her off before she gets too invested in her ridiculous idea. “I don’t want you to be put in a spot because of me...”

“No!” Hanji points a resolute finger at Levi, “I don’t like the way this sounds we’re not breaking up!” And a quieter, thoughtful, “wait... Are we?”

Levi sighs, sitting back down on the bed. He tugs on Hanji’s arm and she’s sitting on his lap, and suddenly she’s limp and sad and there’s that very real chance that this might be it.

“What do you think of us?” Levi asks.

Her mouth moves faster than her brain, it’s a curse, Hanji’s been told. “We’re writing Yelp reviews now?” It’s quiet and Levi deadpans. He waits for her answer, he’s patient, and he knows her well enough.

She recalls the boys she has dated, the boys she’s kissed, and the grey area in between that had been Erwin, and she’s never felt like this. Hanji lets out a sigh. “Best I ever had... You?”

“Same.”

“Ha... My only satisfied customer then,” she hooks her arms behind his neck grins down at him.

“Okay...” Levi says, considering, “okay... Would you like to move in with me?”

Hanji’s eyes widen because is Levi really asking if she would like to- “huh? You- you mean it?”

“Sure... It’s a studio and there isn’t much space but you could save on rent.”

“And?” Hanji’s eyes light up, dopey smile plastered on her face.

Levi rolls his eyes, “and...” he sighs, “it would be nice... Living with you...”

“Wait... Really?” As much as Hanji teases, she’s mostly surprised they made it this far. It’s a long way from disco to cohabitation and Hanji had been pretty certain Levi would lose interest somewhere along the way. But he’s... Still here? “You don’t mind that I create a mess?”

“No. I do mind that you create a mess...” he shifts his weight and dumps Hanji on the bed. “But I would still like for you to move in with me...” Levi is hovering over her now, and Hanji thinks she really lucked out because she thinks he looks good even though he’s wearing her ridiculous shirt that’s slipping at his shoulders. It’s a weird look. But even so, it’s cute and Hanji has heart eyes.

“When you’re done staring I need an answer...”

“I’m not going to deny you the pleasure of living with me if that’s what you really want Levi...” she drawls, shrieking when Levi’s fingers dig into her sides. “Also it seems like the right time... I mean... You’ve already met my parents...”

Levi groans. It certainly hadn’t been ideal.

“You introduced me as your boyfriend.”

“Oh... About that...” Hanji says, and Levi thinks it’s amazing that Hanji actually has the capacity to be embarrassed.

“I don’t mind...” Levi says. Because he’s never really had a girlfriend, life hasn’t permitted him the convenience of labels, but now looking at Hanji, her hair splayed out on the sheets, her legs hooking lazily around his waist, how she’s beaming at him, he thinks labels could work.

→

“Where am I going to go then?” Hanji is distraught, but it can’t be helped.

The notice for renovation has been filed and The Serpent will be closed for a few months. The flooring needs to be retiled and the velvet needs replacing. But I like that it’s worn... It has character... Hanji had said. But it’s getting unsanitary and grimy and well, it can’t be helped.

The Rose stands in the swankier parts of town. It’s new and shiny and the kids love it. It’s a different crowd from The Serpent, so of course Nanaba has heard of it.

“It’s the best Hans... It’s... Contemporary...” she says as delicately as she can possibly manage, and Hanji pulls a face. But it’s not the same.,,

Although Hanji hates the music, it shares the same dubious ownership as The Serpent and Levi is there this particular Wednesday night. So is her whole tutorial class apparently. But she doesn’t realise that until she has her tongue shoved down Levi’s throat in one of the back hallways leading to the emergency exit. Of course they had to chance by. Of course they travel in a pack.

It’s Armin who breaks the silence. “M-miss Hanji?” He says, part mortified and part really embarrassed. They break apart and she’s greeted by five faces staring owlishly at them.

→

Hanji thinks maybe it had been an oversight that whole incident at The Rose. She had been in an unfamiliar territory, besides she should’ve known the probability of bumping into someone she knew was high. It’s a different crowd from The Serpent after all.

She thinks about this now because Erwin Smith is very well-positioned within the students gossip circle. And it’s weird?

“You’re dating an Ackerman... So I’ve heard?”

“As far as I’ve heard... No?” Hanji tries. She types nonsense on her keyboard.

“Don’t deny what my sources confirm Hanji...” Erwin is grinning with all the confidence in the world, “so... Which one?”

“Kenny The Ripper, of course.” Hanji puffs her chest and grins back. Foolish. She should’ve known Erwin isn’t stupid.

“Based on what the students have described... I hypothesise... Levi Ackerman?”

Erwin catches the flicker in Hanji’s eyes. Ah. Got it.

“Gossiping with the students? Mr Smith... I’m very disappointed in you...” Hanji tsk-tsks, and mutters a quieter “hypothesise? Who says that in real life?” under her breath.

Erwin shrugs. “Entertainment is hard to come by these days...”

→

“So... Erwin knows...”

“The kids told him?” Levi is shirtless, and drying himself with a towel and Hanji nearly loses the point of the story.

“Can you believe it? They’re little rats! All of them!”

Levi grunts. “Well, Kenny knows too...”

“Fuck!” Hanji exclaims. “He saw?”

"No... He guessed. Something about me looking less constipated.”

“Ha! Charming...” Hanji laughs.

“Wait... Have we been trying to be discrete?” Hanji ponders, sitting herself on the counter top.

“Apparently the whole of Sina doesn’t seem to think so...” Levi is tidying her stuff off the dining table, pulling a pile of notes here, a few books there.

“Does it matter?” She asks.

Levi shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. This seems to be a permanent arrangement, so people can start getting used to it.”

“By the way your soup is burning,” Levi interrupts Hanji mid-swoon and she’s yelling the most creative string of swears he’s ever heard. Between peals of laughter Levi thinks this is definitely the best arrangement he’s ever been in.

"Ah fuck... I put effort into that soup...” she’s still staring at said soup, but Levi is already taking out the stew he made the previous night from the freezer and putting it in the microwave for her.

“Oh well..." She sighs, pouring the soup down the sink, "perhaps man wasn’t meant for paradise..." Hanji says, and waits with bated breath, grin on her face.

Levi furrows his brows, “Captain Kirk?” And he doesn't know whether to be impressed or slightly disappointed at himself that he knows.

Hanji punches a triumphant fist in the air and whoops.

→

It’s midnight in Sina, the city that never sleeps. Zoë Hanji is the disco queen of the late 2010s, and she graces her neon empire. She’s also now Dr. Zoë Hanji, and they’re here to celebrate that. She walks up to the bar with a purpose.

“Hey handsome, wanna go some place else?” Hanji purrs in the man’s ear.

“Can’t...” the man turns to face her, “I’m married.”

“I’m sure your wife wouldn’t mind... Levi Ackerman...” Hanji‘s fingers dance across his forearm, she laughs when she feels goosebumps rising in her wake. “What’s she like anyway this wife of yours?”

“Untidy as fuck, not very clean, and she never stops talking.”

Hanji throws her head back and guffaws, completely unhinged, and Levi snorts. “She sounds absolutely delightful!” Hanji says, her face mere inches from his, this game making her a little impatient.

“Yeah...” Levi says, and thankfully he’s pulling her close, his arm hooked firm around her lower back, “she’s stunning.” With that Levi closes whatever minuscule distance between them and he’s kissing her deep. All soft lips and pressing and unpressing, and Hanji is breathless when they pull apart. She’s speechless for a moment and Levi thinks this is the best way to shut her up, the only way he can bear too. “And as of today, she’s also a Doctor,” Levi adds, there’s awe and admiration in the softness of his smile and in his eyes when he looks at her, and Hanji feels like when black and white transitioned into technicolor.

And between a month (or two) of Levi being patient when Hanji ignores him to finish up her thesis, and them eloping to get married in a little chapel (Kenny had insisted on solemnising the wedding dressed as Elvis), she stops anticipating for things to fuck up.

“Now go... Your friends are staring...” he says, gaze flickering over to the Erwin, Mike and Nanaba who had indeed been gaping. They’re looking away now, averting their gazes here and there, sheepish. “Also... Did you get the milk?”

Hanji shouts a swear, and she makes the most guilty face she can muster. Levi rolls his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh, “I'll get it tomorrow morning...”

And Hanji grabs his face between her hands and kisses him silly.

“If you wanna dance you know where to find me!” She’s says and Levi tells her to congratulate Erwin on his behalf. Levi sets his glass down and leaves to the docks, something needed taking care of, but he should be able to make it back in time to get Hanji.

It's Prince night and Hanji doesn't ask put in queue requests with the DJ for Prince night because they're all hits! Hanji knows all the lyrics by heart and sings along to all the songs.

The club is emptying out by 3a.m. and Levi makes it back in time for the last song. The Most Beautiful Girl In The World is playing when he finds Hanji in the thinning crowd and dances with her.

"Apt..." He murmurs against her mouth when she reaches down for a kiss.

"Huh?" She says, a little dazed, the arms around her waist pull her in closer.

"The song... It's apt..." Levi says and she beams.

#levihan #levi ackerman #shingeki no kyoujin levi #hanji zoe #hanji #hange #hange zoe #levihan fanfic #levihan fanfiction #modern au #hanji loves disco #levi loves hanji #it's a good time #snk #aot #mine #my fic

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hitchell-mope · 3 years

Text

(Third film. After “losing your memory”. Devie are back in their room and Evie looks beyond haunted. Doug is trying to calm her down but it’s not working)

Evie: why didn’t it work?

Doug: I really couldn’t tell you

Evie: of course I know why it didn’t work. I mean it should’ve worked and it didn’t. I still feel the same. I’m still angry. Why am I still angry? You saw me. I was bawling my eyes out.

Doug: the best I can tell you is that your feelings of abandonment aren’t rooted in unknowing. Perhaps. It’s not him you’re sad for. Maybe you’re just sad about what could’ve been. What you could’ve had. With him and Hadie

Evie: they’re going to be wanting an answer

Doug: so you tell them the truth

(In the kitchen)

Mal: you realise you have meat pulp around your face and on your nose right?

Ben: do I? Hm. (He wipes his mouth and nose with the back on his hand, sniffs it, shrugs and licks off). Better? What’s wrong?

Mal (eyes wide as dinner plates): absolutely nothing wrong at all.

Ben (giggling dorkily): ok

Evie (walking hurriedly into the kitchen): I watched the memory. And I have something to say. (Her father and brother look at her hopefully). I’m not ready to forgive you. I might never be ready. But I am willing to takes very small steps into letting you be apart of my life. You just have to let me set the tone. Alright? If not. Then I want nothing to do with either of you and Mal can keep keep you both. Capisce?

Hades: that sounds more then fair.

Hadie: yes. Much more then either of us deserve. Could I have the hat back now?

Evie: take it. Oh! By the way. I might have interfered with the memory a little bit.

Hades: OH! So that was you then. Your spell work is very impressive Evie

Evie: thank you. I think

(Gil is watching from the doorway. Happy to see his family is somewhat getting along, he goes to the living room and flops down next to Lonnie who’s being used as a human pillow by Jane)

Lonnie: you ok?

Gil: yeah. I like it when they’re happy.

Lonnie: you like it when everyone’s happy

Gil: yah cause it’s the greatest emotion evah (Lonnie quietly snorts). It makes a change from when I first got here though. Remember that. Everyone was so sweet to me. But I could tell I got on their nerves

Lonnie: you could never get on anyone’s nerves. It was just a...really weird time for everyone. Belle was trying to get Adam to agree to the divorce. Ben was ordering Uma’s statue. The memorial was being planned. But you always took precedent. You know that. Right?

Gil: yeah. I just don’t like that I made everyone feel they needed to devote all that time to me. I was really difficult to teach. And I cried a lot

Lonnie: never be ashamed of crying. It’s perfectly healthy.

Gil: I know that now. But remember who my birth father is. One misty eye and it was a punch in the face. But at least mom helped me unlearn all of that.

Lonnie: yeah. (Chuckling). Remember, remember that one time after your first month here

Gil (joining her in chuckling): oh god the car. Doug was so sweet. I can tell what Evie sees in him. Whew. That was. That was a good day.

Lonnie: yeah, yeah it was.

(Flashback time. One month after Gil arrives in Auradon. He’s been officially adopted by Belle. And now Doug is trying to teach him to drive. Belle watches out the window of her quarters as Doug and Gil swaps seats. This is when “strange sight” happens. A few weeks after tne song. Belle trudges back into her office. Elsa’s there at her desk, waiting for her)

Belle (wearily): please get out of my chair.

Elsa: only one in this office I can sit in without fixing it. Chocolate liqueur?

Belle: please. (She takes twenty). You will not believe the day I just had

Elsa: Mal filled me in. Some people just can’t take the hint

Belle: I don’t want money, Ben’ll be eighteen soon so I don’t need custody, I just want him out.

Elsa: about that. I, uhm, got bored, and I rifled through the papers you so carelessly left out on the desk and I found something that might be of interest to you. Here you go (she hands Belle a piece of paper) you own the school.

Belle: I know that. I had to twist his arm to let me sign it in my name

Belle: yes. And while you may not need custody or money, you still need to protect what’s yours.

Belle: he could come after the school.

Elsa: precisely.

(Belle flops down onto a couch. Elsa goes to the wet bar)

Belle: he wasn’t always like this you know. He used to be good. But being elected. It warped him. And I can’t

Elsa: it’s not your fault, here, drink. You changed him from beast to man. But he’s still a selfish brat deep down. Nothing you or anyone could’ve done would’ve changed that.

Belle: I know. It’s just

Elsa: irritating? Yah. I got that. You need to take you’re mind off of all this

Belle: what do you suggest?

Elsa: what did carlos make for you’re birthday last week?

Belle: immersive karaoke machine. Why?

Elsa (proofing the machine into the room): pick the song. Unwind. Then wring your ex’s neck

Belle: anything by Beyoncé. Mal got my interest piqued

Elsa: she was a very impressive entertainer

(Elsa clicks the numbers in and everything gets set up. This is when “if I were a boy” happens. After the song. Mal pops her head around the door)

Mal: asset dividing went well I see? Good song choice

Elsa: thank you dear.

Belle: anything wrong Mal?

Mal: nope. Just enjoying the show. Oh. And the WI Dinner. Scorpio room alright?

Belle: should be more then adequate. Is that all?

Mal: no I don’t think so. Just. Don’t worry about Auradon Prep. You’ll think of something. You always do.

Belle: thank you dear. I like the fringe by the way.

Mal: you would be the fourth

Belle: beg pardon?

Mal: well Ben, mom, Gil, and now you. Four. Jay and Carlos tease. Evie’s threatening to shave me bald in my sleep. Doug has no opinion. Dizzy thinks it’d look better on her. And Lonnie and Jane think it makes me look like a soccer mom

Elsa: well then...uh...

Mal: nah don’t worry. I said I’d have it for a month. And it’s been two days. Hopefully my sisters brain will melt from annoyance

Belle: g-good to know

Mal: aces. I’ll leave you to it then. See ya

(She walks down the hall. Artfully dodging the palace staff. Soon though she reaches the main staircase as well as Ben and Adam who’re are in the middle of an argument)

Adam:...if you had just listened to me then none of this ever would’ve happened!

Ben: yes it would’ve dad! Wether you want to face the truth or not, what happened at cotillion could’ve happened at literally any other time. I’m just thankful it happened when the cameras were on us. Cause at least then everyone could see that it’s people like you that drove Uma to it

Adam: of course, I forgot, I’m the bad man for thinking of the kingdom and you’re the alruist for putting up statues of our aggressors!

Mal (having heard enough from Adam): Uma was not an aggressor. The raccoon, yes, but Uma, no. (Adam starts to growl). Oh don’t look at me like that. What are you going to do? Throw a chair at me? (Her eyes glow emerald green). Go on then. Do it! I can more then assure you that it shan’t be me that it makes contact with. (Her eyes return to normal). Give the word Ben and I’ll turn him into something easily burned with a magnifying glass. If not I’ll be in your room

Ben: nah. He’s not worth it. Besides. He’d just start raving again. And nobody needs that. Please dad, just leave.

Adam: you need me son, you need me, Ben. The half dwarf has no idea how to assist you in running this kingdom

Ben: DOUG, knows a right sight more about the inner workings of the kingdom than you do. There’s a reason he’s my major-domo. And I know what you’re thinking. “He’s gonna be crawling back and asking for my help sooner or later. He’ll feel so stupid. Oh how he should’ve listened to me” (he laughs mockingly). Yeah remember I can read minds now. And I won’t. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna come crawling back. I’m good, we don’t need you, we’re good, I feel good

(This is when “feeling good” happens. Ben leaves his father twitching on the grass, rubs his face in frustration and poofs to his room. Mal’s in the kitchenette looking at a bottle of her medication)

Mal: I’ve got enough to last until the end of the week. But I’ll go into town and get some more later today. Just to be on the safe side

Ben (distractedly): sounds good

Mal: you ok?

Ben: mhmm...no. It’s just. He gets to me. You know. He knows how to push my buttons

Mal: oooh I’ve been there. You know you can always make an appointment with Milo, right?

Ben: yeah. Just not right now. M’not ready

Mal: that’s ok too. If you’re in the mood for it. We could fit in a quick “flight session” before dinner?

Ben: flight session or “flight session”?

Mal: second one

Ben: mmmm...no. Not in the right headspace. But we can fly properly later if ya like

Mal (understandingly): sounds perfect. But we should really do something to take your mind off your father. So how about we practice for the showcase?

Ben: fairy godmother said our song choice wasn’t viable for a school environment. And then paired you up with Evie.

Mal: well. How about we prevtice your one. You know. The one you’re doing with Lonnie

Ben (smiling): that sounds good

(Mal sets up the automatic piano. This is when “changes” happens. After the song Ben notices something)

Ben: hey mom! Hold up! (He pods down to the front of the palace to greet his mother). Watcha doing?

Belle: I’m off to the library

Ben: I thought we had one inside.

Belle: yes. Yea we do. But it’s not been updated apart from legal documents for 22 years. Therefore. I thought I’d take on the duty of updating it. Like it should be

Ben (cracking a wide grin): pick out some for me. You know what ones I like

Belle: will do

Ben: what brought all this on though. I’ve never seen you this happy. I like it.

Belle: getting a divorce can do wonders for a woman’s confidence. See you later tonight.

(She starts to head off)

Ben: hey mom!

Belle: yes?

Ben: Phillipe II’s been looking a little lonely

Belle (realising what Ben means): of course. Now I really must be going. Bye bye

Ben: byeee

(This is when “float” happens. A few weeks later Gil’s at the ROAR arena watching Lonnie lead the team in training)

Carlos: you know, you’re not gonna get anywhere with her just by staring

Gil: I-I am not-staring, puh hoohaa, ehhhh, is it that obvious?

Carlos: only from space

Gil: ah. (Whimpering) help meee. Please?

Carlos: you know what she likes. ROAR. Gossip. And weapons in general. You’ll be fine.

Gil: ok. Ok. I can do this. I’ll be fine

(After practice he approaches her as she’s packing to leave)

Gil: teach me

Lonnie (slightly surprised): hm?

Gil: I know how to fight like a pirate. And I know how to wrestle a grown man until his tendons snap beneath my fingers. But I don’t know ROAR. So I was wandering. Could you teach me?

Lonnie: of course. Only if you agree to do exactly what I say when I say it without argument

Gil: no arguments from me. So when do we start?

Lonnie: hmmmmm. For safety’s sake, considering this this your first time at ROAR, how about now?

Gil: works for me.

Lonnie: alrighty then. Grab that spare sword and we’ll get started

Gil: as you wish captain

(He takes the spare sword and they start practicing. This is when “strangers like me” happens. Well after the song Gil’s whooping down the corridor past Jay and Carlos)

Jay: somebody’s happy

Carlos: yeah I might have given him the final push he needed to ask Lonnie out

Jay: impressive. I’m proud of you. Ya big softie

Carlos: you would’ve done the same. Except you’d have added more beer

Jay: this is true. But still. You did a good thing dear.

Carlos: yeah. At least they get to move on together next year

Jay: ahhhh...wait, what? Whadya mean next year?

Carlos: oh nothing, you’re graduating this year, next year I’ll have a new roommate, and long distance hardly ever works

Jay (turning Carlos around to face him): C, look at me, long distance is gonna work. You know me. I’m lazy as sin.

Carlos: yeah, that’s probably true. But still. It’s gonna be difficult. Like really, really, really, difficult

Jay: what makes you say that?

Carlos: I mean look at you, you’re a freaking genie for gods sake. More to the point, you’re a free genie. People are gonna eat you up my friend.

Jay: ohhhh. You’re jealous.

Carlos: I’m not jealous. I’m insecure. There’s a difference

Jay: riiiight. I know how to deal with jealousy. But not insecurity

Carlos: I don’t expect you to. It’s my problem. And I’m the one who’s gotta deal with it. Not you. And oh Christ there’s the kingdom to consider

Jay: oho kay. I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill right now

Carlos: it’s fine. I don’t expect you to get it. But please just let me vent.

Jay: sure. Vent away

(This is when “the last of the real ones” happens. That night in the family library, Ben finds Belle at the main table. She’s crying quietly)

Ben: hey, Mal and I are going out for dinner. I just wanted to let you know. Are you alright?

Belle: yeah. Just. I dunno. Feeling sorry for myself I suppose. I uh, I found something that brought back memories

Ben: good or bad memories?

Belle: oh good, very good, that’s what made me sad

Ben (reading the book title): “William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet: First Edition Illustrated”. Ohhhh. Oh you taught him to read with that didn’t you?

Belle: retaught him. He was cursed for almost ten years by then. He’d forgotten. (She abruptly stands up, sending the chair flying). Oh god why am I crying about him. It’s stupid. I’m divorcing him. He’s out of my life

Ben: I hate to play the devils advocate but he isn’t. Because of me you won’t be rid of him until his funeral procession. Which can’t come soon enough in my opinion.

Belle: it’s a stupid memory

Ben: no it’s not, cause it meant something to you.

Belle: I taught you too well

Ben: well it was either you teach me manners or Lumiere teach me flirting. Frankly we’re lucky the only thing I can play on piano is the assorted hits of David Bowie

Belle: you do play a good Starman. What are you doing?

Ben (pulling out his phone): calling Mal. Hey. Yeah it’s me. Mom’s got something going on. But you, Doug and Evie can go on without me. Oooh yes! Jane loves that restaurant. She’d love to go. See you tomorrow morning. Love you. Bye. And now you’re stuck with me for the night Maman

Belle: you don’t have to do this. You’re young. You should be having fun. Not stuck here with your elderly mother

Ben: I’ve got whiskey

Belle: so Downton Abbey, yes?

(Five hours and six bottles later they’re cry-laughing at the season one finale when Ben looks at his phone)

Ben: oh Christ. Is that the time. I should really be getting to bed

Belle: goodnight dear. I’ll keep watching

(Ben heads for the door. Then stops and turns back around to face her. This is when “strange sight reprise” happens. After the song, he leaves and the scene melts away back to the present. Gil and Lonnie are still on the couch looking very confused)

Lonnie: that was, uh, a weird flashback

Gil: I wasn’t there for half of that stuff

(They see something next to the mantelpiece)

Gilonnie: Camelot incense

Lonnie: Mal must have lit them

Gil: serves Evie right for buying in bulk.

Uma: what the fuck are you two on about

Gil: oh. Hey Uma. Didn’t see you there. We were, um, we were remembering what I was like when I first got here.

Uma: like I care. I don’t wanna hear about your perfect little life.

Lonnie: that’s my cue to leave. Or I’ll put your head through a wall.

Uma: ohhhh you could try. You wouldn’t be successful. But you could try

Lonnie: I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me Gil. As you you, you tricorn wearing whiny ass little loser. If you upset him. You answer to me. Capisce?

Uma: I don’t eat anything the bitch cooks. I’d rather die

Lonnie: keep acting the way your acting, that could very well happen

(Lonnie leaves. Gil looks disapprovingly at Uma)

Gil: she’s right you know

Uma: what?

Gil: eventually, everyone will stop trying to understand you. And they will leave you. Again. And you’ll be alone. Again. Is that really what you want?

Uma: I don’t need friends to know I’m right

Gil: BUT YOU’RE NOT! NEITHER OF YOU ARE RIGHT! She did one shitty thing to you ten years ago and what did you do? You let it consume you. You sent Harry after Carlos, the one she sees as her son, then last year you kidnapped and hypnotised the love of her life. And now. When both she and Ben are trying to give you leeway you keep pushing back. Because you are so fucking terrified of showing some much needed weakness that you’d rather push away anyone who gives somewhat of a damn about you wether it’s me or Harry or Ben or Morg

Uma: SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! YOU DONT KNOW ME! NONE OF YOU DO! YOU NEVER DID! AND YOU NEVER WILL!

Gil: yeah, cause you won’t let us. And that’s where you fail Uma. You never let anyone in

(Gil leaves the room passing Doug and Celia on the way)

Doug: Ben would like everyone back in the kitchen please. Hades and Mal have something they want to say

Uma: later.

Doug: no, now. Trust me. You’ll wanna here this

Uma: you’re not the boss of me. No matter how good looking you are

Doug: this is my house. Captain Facillier.

Celia: give us a minute.

Doug: you get ten.

(They watch Doug leave. Celia grabs Uma’s arm and practically throws her onto the couch)

Uma: what the hell was that for?

Celia: shut up. Just sit back and pay attention.

Uma: what are you doing?

Celia: relighting the Camelot incense.

Uma: why?

Celia: because dad cares. Just remember. These operate on Merlin’s magic. Which is rather unreliable. So we’ll probably see more then we need to

Uma: what?

Celia: just shut up and let me work. Alright?

(Once she lights the incense then she mutters a quick spell in french and once again the scene gives way to a flashback. This time to Facillier’s arcade on the island. The news is on the tv. Ben looks apologetic. He’s talking about a statue. Facillier’s watching and he looks broken)

Uma: why are we here?

Celia: this is six months ago. Aka; six months after you disappeared and Ben’s just declared you legally dead, highly reluctantly might I add. See Uma, you were missed. Even if you don’t think so. It practically broke our dad. Ah crap.

Uma: what?

Celia: I forgot.

Uma: forgot. WHAT?

Celia: ah, heh heh. Yuh see errrr

Ursula: 🎶OH ANTOINE!!!!🎶

Uma: no.

Celia: I am so sorry

(The door is blasted open and in slithers Ursula in all her slithery cephalopodic “glory”)

Ursula (slurring her words a little): I came as soon as I heard.

Facillier: what? To rub it in?

Ursula: why ever would I do that? I’ve lost my only daughter and only wish to seek >hic< comfort in the arms of the only man I’ve ever >belch< loved

Facillier: my god, you’re drunk aren’t you?

Ursula (giggling and belching simultaneously): muhbe a lil bit?

Facillier: oh Christ I should’ve known. You’re only here to gloat about how I can never see Uma again. Only you can’t be blamed for it

Ursula: oh don’t beat yourself up honey. Who knows. One day she may yet reappear. After (brap) all, every soul lost to the depths makes its way to me. It’s the law of the ocean. I’m like that fiery gent you sleaze around with. Only I’m more important

Facillier: get out

Ursula (stammering): what?

Facillier: get out! Go on! GET OUT! GET YOUR DRUNKEN BLUBBERY ASS OUT OF MY HOUSE! NOW!!!!

Ursula (turning on the, very, very, false, waterworks): but, but, but-

Facillier (having flat out lost his patience by now): BUT NOTHING! I don’t want you here. Not near me. Not near Celia. Get out. Sober your ass up. Or never contact me again

Ursula (actually starting to get nervous now): but this is how we work. I show up here drunk, you join me, then we end up in bed and

Facillier: not this time. If you want to talk to me, then stop downing the sixteen bottles of fermented grog you filch at the pier. And don’t, don’t do that

Ursula: don’t do what?

Facillier: oh god do I have to spell it out for you?

(This is when “call me when you’re sober” happens. After the song he wafts Ursula away in a plume of magenta smoke)

Facillier: you can come in now

Anastasia (sheepish smile): I uh, I saw Ursula headed for you and I thought you might need someone in your corner. How’re you doing?

Facillier: about as good as can be expected. But at least punches weren’t thrown

Anastasia: yeah. It’s just a shame there’s nothing they can do

Facillier: well they already went over the legal requirements and I know enough about the king to know he didn’t make the call off lightly. But it’s still disheartening. She might still be out there. Alone. With no one to help OH SHIT

Anastasia: what is it. What’s wrong?

Facillier (putting his jacket on as he heads for the door): Celia! I’ve got to go somewhere. I might be gone for so time. Ana’s going to stay here to look after you. Be good, behave and please try not to fleece anyone who doesn’t deserve it.

Flashback!Celia (from upstairs): will do. See ya later. Bye

Anastasia: what’s. Wrong?

Facillier: the boy. Uma wasn’t alone. He was with her

Anastasia: fuck. Do you think hades knows?

Facillier: I don’t know. If he does. He’s probably drinking himself into a stupor. Either way. He needs someone

Anastasia: then fly you fool

Facillier: I really shouldn’t have found that disc for you

Anastasia: oh you wouldn’t changed it for the world

Facillier: yeah you’re right

(He poofs away in a cloud of fuchsia smoke. In the shadows Celia turns to Uma who has a pained look on her face)

Celia: this was all I know. Well. What he told me. What happens next will be a complete surprise to both of us. So. Do you continue?

Uma: yes. Fine. I need to know. Just get on with it

(Celia nods her head and the scene melts away into smoke the reappears in a brightly lit, well cared for but still run down bar. The signage says “Kronk’s Tavern”. Facillier approaches Hades (Eva Green) who’s sitting on a barstool and drowning her sorrows in tequila and gin. End of this part of the Facillier flashback)

#disney descendants #zendaya!mal

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sarcasticbabywhispererjess · 5 years

Text

The movie “Secret Obsession” opens with the main character Jennifer being chased through a rest stop bathroom by a knife wielding maniac. She escapes out into the rain (very dramatic), gets hit by a car and is subsequently brought to the hospital.

The following happens in the hallway of the hospital and OR...

Bagging patient randomly off and on.

“She’s going into v-fib.” (closed captioning says v-tach)

No compressions are started.

“She’s unstable.” (no shit)

No one starts compressions… way to fail ACLS step 1. Get on the chest!

“We need to start compressions.” Yes, please!

No one actually starts compressions, but someone does listen to her with a stethoscope.

“Miss can you hear me?” She’s in v-fib and you’re not doing compressions, her brain isn’t being perfused… she ain’t gonna answer you, doc.

“She’s unresponsive.” Ya think?

“I’m losing a pulse.” She’s been in v-fib, but had a pulse this whole time? I think your monitor is faulty. Also, why start compressions if there’s a pulse… not that they have done any compressions so far.

Still no compressions.

Shocks with 300 joules… with paddles that we don’t ever use anymore. (You don’t shock with 300 joules on any defibrillators, 120-200 on biphasic, or 360 on monophasic… yes I looked this up.)

“Bradycardia. 30… 90/50.”

Patient is in an organized rhythm and has a pretty good BP.

“Charge to 360” What?! Why?! Shocks her again.

WTF?! Why did you shock her? You don’t shock bradycardia.

“Get another amp of epi”… shocks again.

That was three shocks in like a minute… never any compressions.

Pulse is now 75… they call it a success and say they can start surgery.

That was a DISASTER of a code. I get that it’s a movie, but codes are exciting when you follow actual ACLS guidelines (less defibrillating though), they didn’t need to do this. Plus, just edit and reorder some of those lines and it would have made more sense. Also...

DO SOME FUCKING COMPRESSIONS!

Ok, below I continue with a play by play and commentary on the rest of the movie... warning, spoilers ahead.

Jennifer is in a hospital bed, extubated after surgery, but hadn’t regained consciousness after surgery. No, we don’t do that.

Leg is in a brace and sling. Huh? Why?

Has Coban, but no gauze wrapped around her head like a headband (not sure where her injury is… somewhere near her hippocampus since that is where her brain injury is according to the doctor when he is explaining about how her memory is going to be affected by her brain injury) and random pieces of white tape on her nose and fingers. ???

Jennifer is in the hospital for several weeks it seems after the montage of memory card games and learning to push her own wheelchair. All of her facial abrasions are healed as she’s being discharged which also denotes the passing of time. I’m not quite sure why they kept her so long.

She is standing at the counter and is told by the nurse discharging her (who also was there the night she was admitted) that her CT results came back and is given a vague update. Nurse gives her prescription bags… I mean, I guess it’s a nurse, she’s not wearing a badge but is wearing a stethoscope around her neck (confirmed later, she’s a nurse). She gives Jenn a cane to walk with when she gets home… 2-3mins a day (That’s like no time at all). Jenn is given no instruction of how to use it, I’ve only ever seen her use a wheelchair.

Jennifer is sent home with a wheelchair. Her leg brace is gone. So can she not walk because of her brain injury, not her leg injury?

Man, this nurse works a lot… she seems to be there every day/night. And she’s in charge of follow-up calls/appointments. They’re in California, so at least she probably makes pretty good money since she runs the whole damn hospital.

OK, cane/wheelchair is because of her leg. Why the fuck doesn’t she just have crutches? That’s dumb. I guess it’s to make her more helpless.

God damn, her skin is so nice.

Russell and Jenn start to get intimate, Jenn has a scary memory flash and rebukes his advances. Russell doesn’t take it well. He roughly grabs her arm. He starts talking about how much he has done for her and how he’s her husband (is he though?), so he deserves better. Twat. Jenn is freaked out both by her memory and Russell’s behavior, but just turns off the light, rolls over away from him, and goes to bed. I would have left.

Damn, nurse Masters is still at work? She literally works 24/7 in this ED. Jenn still has an active chart? There are doctor’s notes in it? This place hasn’t switched to EMR yet? But they have high res security cameras that hospital security can pull up and email files within minutes? Impressive. Do a lot of crimes happen in this hospital? So those are their priorities? Weird.

Wtf is a heritage tattoo? That’s how the detective figured out her maiden name? Seems far fetched, but I’m not looking it up.

The detective enters Jennifer’s home that she shared with her parents according to records… and he keeps touching things without gloves on. You’re a shit detective, dude. How have her parents been dead this whole time and no one has looked for them? They didn’t have jobs? Were they hermits?

Russell leaves and Jenn hears a lock sound from the bedroom door. She jiggles the door handle and can’t get it open, “Did he just lock it?” Well he didn’t unlock it ya dumb bitch. Well apparently she was some kind of criminal in her past life, so she can open locks with a bobby pin. Really? The password on Russell’s computer is Jennifer’s maiden name. FFS. This is the most unrealistic thing in the movie.

Why would he cut the cord for the internet? Just to be dramatic. He could just as easily have just unplugged the cord and taken it with him. Did he not want to use the internet anymore either? Anyway, he planned far ahead enough to disable the internet just in case she got into the computer, but didn’t delete all the pictures pre-photoshopping off his computer? Idiot.

Who just swallows a pill that someone puts in their mouth just because they also forced water into your mouth? You’re not a dog, Jennifer.

Russell uses a chain and lock that he happens to have in his pocket to chain her to the bed. Pretty sure she can get that chain off of her ankle if she wanted to. It’s not that tight.

Oh my goodness, nurse Masters isn’t at work! Russell is super weird to her and then speeds away from the store where he bought lye.

The chain is much tighter suddenly… but loose enough that Jenn could get it off. Ok, wtf is wrong with her leg… she can’t seem to straighten it from like 30 degrees… they should’ve kept that brace on her from the beginning of the movie and also done more ROM exercises with her while she was in the hospital for all those weeks. She apparently used to be some kind of medic? Duct tape as an ace bandage ankle wrap? Probably not the most effective, but could be worse. Though I imagine she’d only have some soft tissue injury from that chain, I don’t know if she needs to wrap her ankle.

Jenn gets into the garage where she acts like it smells bad.. like a dead body, maybe? She hides in her car that is in the garage when fake Russell gets home. He also acts like the garage reeks. Why does he open the trunk to see the real Russell’s dead body? Like, he knows that it’s in there and he could already smell the decomposing body… he just wanted a better whiff? Also, why hasn’t he buried the body yet? He buried that witness the day he killed him. Well, semi-buried… it was a really shallow grave that Jenn tripped onto and touched the dude’s hand. Honestly, he did a piss-poor job at hiding the body. Also, now that I’m thinking about it, real Russell’s body isn’t very decomposed for having been in the trunk of a car in a hot garage for several weeks (unless the garage has A/C, but there would still be a lot more rotting of the flesh after such a long time). Jennifer’s parents bodies decomp was much more progressed even though it seems they’ve all been dead the same amount of times.

The detective is at “their” house, he knows Russell isn’t Russell and there’s something nefarious afoot. This detective needs to go back to detective school. Stop touching potential evidence without gloves on. Why would fake Russell just cover up an old sign that has his actual last name on it? Just get a new sign, you nut job. Well, the shitty detective isn’t aware of his surroundings and doesn’t have his gun drawn, so of course fake Russell/Ryan is able to sneak up behind him and hit him over the head. He’s dead… actually probably just unconscious in an ice chest since fake Russell is only good at killing people most of the time. Also, I have a feeling we’re going to need the detective later to help save Jenn.

Uh oh, glasses are off… I guess he’s not Russell anymore. He’s crazy, obsessive Ryan.

Yes, take time to watch that video on your phone, Jenn… get sentimental while you’re trying to run for your life.

Why is this dude so hyper focused on this chick? He’s hot. He could have his pick of plenty of girls. I suppose it’s hard to think in rational/logical terms with a sociopath no matter what he looks like.

Oh good… he’s doing the villain speech where he explains his backstory. Apparently he had to light a single taper for it. I have a feeling the candlestick holder might come into play later… in Jennifer’s benefit. No, wait... he left the lighter and tied her up with flammable rope. But she knocked it on the floor… moron.

Oh good, the detective is alive. He’ll save them both even if he’s also an idiot. Since all women need saving.

Wait, she got herself out. Why hit him with the vase? The solid metal candle holder would’ve been a better choice. Solid work falling down the stairs, Jenn

The detective is out of the ice chest. And he’s using the Babe from Kill Bill incentive… yelling at himself to make his brain/muscles work. He at the very least has a concussion/TBI from being knocked unconscious, yelling at yourself doesn’t fix that.

Jennifer! Why are you going into the woods? You have his keys and there are so many cars on the property, you probably have a key that will work on at least one of them. Even if you didn’t have the keys, if you can pick a lock, can’t you hotwire a car too? Why do you think you’d get better signal in the mother fucking woods? Yes, try to hit him with a heavy log that you can barely lift. You’ll get good momentum and swing. Just use one of those rocks you just threw to distract him. Idiot.

Ok, she shot fake Russell/Ryan in the back while he was wrestling with the detective. The first shot was fairly high in the chest and had a pretty good chance of hitting his lung or something important, but he’s still able to come at her. Her second shot got him in the upper right abdomen, so probably the liver and he just goes down... dead. FFS. At least have shot him in the heart area, that would’ve been slightly more believable. Oh well, I guess that’s that. A little follow up with the detective and Jenn. She’s moving back to San Jose (hopefully she’s getting a new place since her parents were murdered in her old house) and the detective is moving to AZ even though he never found his daughter that had gone missing as a child many years ago (a part of his backstory that brought nothing to the story and was never resolved).

Guys, this was not a great movie. I did kind of enjoy tearing it apart though.

#secret obsession #movie review #acls review #don't watch movies with nurses #we're the worst #why can't any movies or tv get codes right?#just do some damn compressions people!#netflix #netflix original

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dynamic-instability · 4 years

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In one of my classes we have to write weekly personal narratives about an experience with illness. This week, mine turned into this. It’s probably too personal, and too... immediate?? to turn in to a professor without cutting out a lot of stuff, but not too personal to post online I guess lol

_____________________________

It’s November again.

In 2009 the lights were too bright. Mid-October one morning I woke up to my dad turning on my lights and it was like having to look into the sun while posing for a photo—my eyes wouldn’t stay open, if I forced them to, they couldn’t stay pointed in one direction, they spasmed and hurt. When the light was dimmed, I still saw double. That morning, I showered in the dark, and I remember being scared. They gave me eyedrops that paralyzed my accommodative muscles. In November my pupils were giant discs and I wore reading glasses over sunglasses to look at the computer, and when it was all said and done, the lights were still too bright, and I still saw double.

In 2011 I was tired. There’s fatigue and then there’s fatigue, I learned that Fall. In May of that year I had pulled two all-nighters in a week, and that was the only other time I’d felt this kind of tired, a sensation in about the 30th hour of the second time where it’s like my brain itched. I once saw someone else online describe it as “nausea, but in your head and eyes instead of in your throat and stomach” and that’s the closest anyone else has come to describing it. By November this was happening more and more often. I remember laying down in the corner of the room during a break of Citywide choir and thinking what the hell is wrong with me? I got a cold the next week, and I thought that maybe that was all it was. It wasn’t.

In 2013 I went to the ER for the fifth time in three months of college, and when I wanted to leave before waiting another couple of hours to eventually see a doctor who would tell me once again that they couldn’t do anything to help me, the woman from student life who was there to drive me back to campus made me call my parents on speaker phone and get their permission to leave before she would turn on the car. I had missed more chemistry labs than I could afford to miss without failing, passed out in a voice lesson, was asked by the director to drop out of choir because watching me was distraction when I looked like I was in pain, and if I passed out it would have ruined the concert for everyone. I remember leaving calculus in the mornings mid-class to go to the bathroom and lay on the floor and cry. I remember not being able to lift my hand off the mattress of my dorm room bed. I withdrew from half of my classes on the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, and took the Spring semester off.

In 2014 I had made a promise to myself that I would come back to college full time for that Fall semester just to see if I could do it, and then if I couldn’t I would drop out for good. There was one week where I thought that might be happening. Mid-November. The girls in my dorm had made a fort in the lounge out of sheets and blankets and colorful scarves and I remember laying on the couch through the green-filtered light and feeling the world spin and thinking oh god I still can’t do this. The door opened with a rush of cold air and my friends came in with food for me, since I’d been too sick to go to dinner. They sat with me and helped me with chemistry, offered to type up a paper if I dictated it, told jokes and made me laugh. I took an incomplete in one class, but I passed everything else, just barely scraped through, and came back in January.

In 2015 I just wanted to sleep. I passed out in an elevator and heard familiar voices, concerned voices, as I came to, and I stayed there laying motionless for another minute longer, because as long as I wasn’t awake I didn’t have to keep pushing. I wrote whole pages of completely unreadable ochem notes because my hand wasn’t working any better than my brain, and woke up on the floor and was wheeled out on a stretcher crying. It was dark all the time. My cane slipped on wet leaves and I felt my wrist crunch and there it was, one too many missed organic chemistry labs. I couldn’t stand for an entire choir rehearsal because breathing to sing made me lightheaded. I slept for 16 hours a day. The week before Thanksgiving, I called my mother to tell her I had decided to take another hardship withdrawal, and she sighed. I had applied to transfer schools during my much more optimistic Spring semester and Summer, and the week I left was also the week I found out I’d been accepted.

And so okay now it’s 2019, and it’s October and now November again, semester plan again, dark again. My reading is piling up again, feeling overwhelmed again, laying on my kitchen floor again. But here’s the thing—my health is… fine? Midterm week I didn’t sleep, and yes I passed out twice, but no ER. For the past 18 months, I can count on one hand the number of mornings I’ve been unable to get out of bed because of fatigue. My heart still pounds too hard but my head doesn’t swim every time I sit up. I walk the streets of New York City like mobility has never been a problem. I always take the stairs. My brain doesn’t itch until it’s been 30 hours no sleep.

I couldn’t go to class last week. I lay on the floor of my kitchen and stared up at the ceiling and tried to get up, tried to type out an email to my professors, and I couldn’t do it. I was not too tired. I was not too weak. I was not in pain. I could not move. I try to write and try to write and try to write and the words don’t come. I eat instant oatmeal at 9 PM because I haven’t been to the store in a month. I have lost nearly 15 pounds since moving to New York. I clean the stove for two and a half hours but can’t bring myself to take the dead spider off the side of the bathtub. I check the door lock one-two-three times, pace the floor, sit back down. I do not read Austerlitz. I write a Canvas post for Self and Other but it’s nonsense. I do not write a Canvas post for Accounts of Self. I do not write a Canvas post for Applied Writing. I write a Canvas post for Illness and Disability and somehow forget to post it, the one thing I’ve actually done, because I’m too busy feeling sick at everything I haven’t. I shadow a doctor for the clinical witnessing assignment and everything is fine but when I try to write it up I have a panic attack that leaves me sobbing on my couch and the assignment nine days late and counting. It takes me eight hours to write two pages. I watch 18 hours of YouTube video essays discussing drama about creators I don’t even watch and play a stupid game on my phone for an entire weekend until I’ve spent $25+ in a labyrinth of microtransations and every time I close my eyes I see the moving dots.

In November of 2015 I had three overdue essays for Global Literature, and two more due in the next two weeks. More than half were on books I had not read. My pre-lab wasn’t done for organic chemistry, and I wondered for a moment, if I pretended to pass out, if that would be easier. I stayed up until 4 AM laying on my floor and listening to Hamilton. I was sick, that much is true, but when I felt okay I still sat at my computer and could not bring myself to write.

In 2011 I had so many unfinished assignments for my college-level English class that I resigned myself to failing and I went to school the morning of the final class, but I hid in the stairwell by the choir room until I heard the bell, and I never went back to that class.

2009 was the year my dad stopped being able to yell at me for not doing my homework, because no one, including me, could tell whether it was actually my eyes stopping me.

In 2008 I wrote 6 essays in the 5 days of Thanksgiving break because I had not done any work for Intro to Lit all semester. I pulled it off, somehow, even aced the class because of an unusually lenient late work policy, but what I most remember is the sick feeling of dread as I lay on the floor in the living room staring up at the Christmas tree and feeling invisible sand slip through an invisible hourglass and a vice tightening in my chest.

In 2006 I stayed up almost all night writing a paper and crying my eyes out because I couldn’t find the words to explain to anyone why it had been so impossible for me to get the work done, that I wasn’t being lazy or distracted, I just couldn’t do it. I wasn’t necessarily reading YA novels or watching TV or IMing my friends instead of working, I could sit and stare at a blank word document for 6 hours straight and still it would not get done. Everyone talked about potential, talked about how smart I was, but a gradebook that is half 100’s and half 0’s still averages out to an F. No one, including me, could explain the discrepancy. The logic of that simple math was not lost on me, the knowledge that turning in half-finished or not very good work was mathematically better than not doing it, but that didn’t mean I could do it. Words failed me when I tried to explain the illogic of my particular suffering.

I didn’t hear the term executive dysfunction until I was in my 20s. In retrospect I was tentatively told at 16 that I had “probably some ADHD and OCD”, but that psychiatrist was someone I’d been sent to by a neurologist because he thought she could fix my eyes, and when she said she couldn’t, I stopped making appointments. After I got sick, physically sick, the lines blurred between what was causing what, to the point where even I have no idea. Two of the Novembers missing here are ones I spent at CC, on the block plan where I only took one class at a time. My physical health arguably improved a little after transferring in January of 2016, but mostly it didn’t, not until Spring of 2018 at least. And you can see that evidence in dropped blocks, concussions from passing out onto hard surfaces, a couple of incompletes taken when viral illnesses (or concussions) compounded my other problems. What the block plan changed was the way things pile up, lessened the struggle of constant task switching between classes. (Admittedly, I also had fewer papers when taking mostly science classes. Writing takes much more energy, and it’s much harder to convince myself it doesn’t have to be perfect to be worth submitting.) At CC nothing ever really reached the level of catastrophe. Some of that is purely the ability to drop a single block, meaning when it was my physical health that was the problem, I didn’t lose a whole semester, just one class, then reset. But I should have realized sooner that the block plan wouldn’t account for the level of improvement if my physical health had really been the only barrier.

So we’re back to now. Grad school. November again. Dark again. Semester plan again. Too much writing again. Crushing dread again. Dysfunction again. Panic attack in the middle of the night increasingly elaborate organizing rituals scream of the subway tracks in my mind can’t stop can’t start can’t breathe can’t move burnout again. This time without the explanation of chronic fatigue to fall back on.

I have my tricks, have actually learned somewhat to cope in the past 18 years. Schedules help, break tasks into pieces that are as small as possible. Mindfulness meditation. Forgive yourself when it’s not perfect. Get started with something easy, set a timer for 20 minutes and only work for those 20 minutes and then let yourself stop if you want to (and surprisingly often, you won’t want to, sometimes that momentum is all it takes). If you work better in the night, work in the night, who cares what society says your sleep schedule should be. When switching tasks, physically get up and move to a different location. Allow yourself to procrastinate on work with other work if that’s what you have to do. Delete the stupid games from your phone. One or two missed assignments are not actually the end of the world, if you let yourself view it as piling up, you won’t be able to get anything done, so if you absolutely have to, just move through and move on.

It’s not a catastrophe, this November. It’s a fight, but it’s not a catastrophe. I read Austerlitz and forgive myself for skimming it. I write a Canvas post and forgive myself when it’s only 500 words and doesn’t make complete sense. I read Toni Morrison and Édouard Louis and classmates’ discussion posts about Deaf culture and identity and remember why this matters in the first place, that it’s not just a series of assignments to overwhelm me, it’s a series of interesting complicated exhausting important thoughts and questions. I get it done. Some of it. Most of it. I let myself sleep. I breathe. I remember to be grateful because I can get out of bed in the mornings and take the stairs. I am okay.

#chronic illness #executive dysfunction #chronic fatigue #College and chronic illness #personal lol

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thecardaddy · 4 years

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1938 Chevrolet Master Deluxe - $44,995.00

1938 Chevrolet Master Deluxe 2 Door Sedan, This was a 10 year complete frame off Resto Rod Restoration. About 700 miles since restoration. Every nut and bolt is new or refurbished to NOS quality, Restro Rod build, Chev 350 edlebrock Motor, Vintage Air Heater & AC, Auto Transmission 700R4, Ford 9 inch rebuilt rear end, Disc brakes on front, Rear Drum, Rach and Pinion Steering, suspension all new, steeering new, Power Windows, Power Door Locks, New smoked safety glass, new one piece wind shield, Frame media blasted, Frame Power coated, Frame looks just like the rest of the car and contact me if you want pictures of the undercarriage, all body panels media blasted, very little rust and solid original body. The little and very few rust isues have been completely fixed and restored to really better than new. I have pictures of restoration. If interested, I can send you copies. I am the third owner of this car and have documentation to original purchaser, The frame was box welded, the fneders have steel rod welded in the inside lip or fenders, firewall is filled and cleaned up and painted with same base coat and clear coat as outside of body, alpine stereo, all chrome and stainless is NOS quality (See pics), drives perfect, handles terrific, This car is an absolute pleasure to drive at 70 mph, THIS IS ONE OF THE FINEST RESTRO ROD RESTORATIONS YOU WILL EVER SEE, ABOUT 700 MILES SINCE RESTORATION, This is my personal car. The gentleman who restored this car is a friend. The quality of this restoration is remarkable. It is the best I have ever seen. And, I have restoring and bought and sold vintage cars for over 45 years now. Please Note The Following **Vehicle Location is at our clients home and Not In Cadillac, Michigan. **We do have a showroom with about 25 cars that is by appointment only **Please Call First and talk to one of our reps at 231-468-2809 EXT 1 ** FREE Consignment Visit Our Site Today Easy To List Your Vehicle and Get it Sold in Record Time. from Cardaddy.com https://www.cardaddy.com/vehicles/vehicle/1938-chevrolet-master-deluxe-cadillac-michigan-20210789

#Trucks #Cars #SUVs #Vehicles For Sale Near Me

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pinkiespurpleflower · 6 years

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Got nowhere else to put this and I need to vent so I'm putting it here

I'm really tempted to kill myself tonight. And no, I swear to god I'm not saying it for attention, if I were I'd be putting it on my main blog. I'm just typing this because I'm hoping venting will make me feel better, and if it doesnt, well, at least people will know why I did it. Over the past year I have done nothing but fail and fail over amd over again. There are so meny things at the beginning of 2017 that I thought I'd have done by now, so meny small goals that were necessary for me to achieve but I haven't. I've watested a crucially important year of my life and there's nothing I can do to undo it or bring it back. I've failed at school. I'm about to fail all but one of my classes and I've already been droped from one for lack of attendance, one I failed last semester. They were easy fucking classes. Classes I could have passed with very little effort, I know I could have aced them so easy yet I failed. Why? I refused to buy the book becuse it was 200$ and I said I didnt have the money, then I procided to sepnd hunderds of dollors THAT I NEEDED TO SAVE At conventions. I could have fucking taken medication for my add and autism yet I didn't and I honestly dont know if it's becuase of my pride or because of pure lazyness. But both of those have just gotten infinatly worse than it was in highschool and I FUCKING HATE MYSELF FOR IT! I LOKK AND ACT LIKE A LITERAL FUCKING RETARD AND I CANT REMBER THINGS THAT HAPPENED LITERALLY 2 MINUTES AGO! Its sicking. I'm an annoyance and a burden to everyone around me. I'm an embarrassment to what few friends I have. I fucking broke my computer and my glasses twice and my fucking bed from just having random uncontrollable urges to smack my face and sometimes entire body on my bed over and over again. And when I tell people they just fucking laugh. Speaking of the computer I could have goyen it fixed by now but I haven't becuse I'm too incopadent to know how to mail it off and I'm afraid to ask for help. The warranty may have expired for all I know. And another thing. Theres a docters appointment that I really needed to make, for somthing that has been an on going issue for a long time but low and be hold I cant fucking do that either. It hurts to just bring myself to try, like, idk how to describe it but its like when I do I'm feeling mental pain so stong it feels physicaly. Oh and I can't tell you how much of a nessestiy it has been for me to get a license. Like my dad made it so easy for me, he boght me a car and a book. And riding the bus all the time is fucking hard and fucking stessful. My mom used to give me rides but shes been bailing on me more and more. YET I STILL CAN'T BRING MYSELF TO DO IT. It's like there's a voice in my head screaming at me to get it done but is terrifed I'll get it wrong so I just put it off longer and dont do it at all. I'm a failer to my sisters. I never get to see them, I didnt get to come ro there 16th bithday. I was a shitty big sister growing up and now I'm barely even a part of their lives. I'm a failer to my father. Every time he says to me "i love you" or "I'm proud of you" I feel like absote shit because I know I dont deserve it. He doesnt know how horribly I've failed. I'm failing at work too. So meny of my coworkers don't like me, I was called into the office recently for underperforming and this happed alot at my old store, I know for a fact that if I hadn't tranfesd when I did I would have been fired. I'm a failure at love. Both the peoples I was in super deep relationships with, like I thought I was gonna marry ended up crazy and suicidal by the end and I really feel like that was from me fucking them up and being manipulative. I guess this all would be excusable if I was a good person but I'm not that either. I'm a horribly shitty person. I feel no empathy for others in mental pain, in fact I somtimes get a sadistic enjoyment of it. I'm discuseted with muself that I'm suicidal because suicidal people make me disgusted. I guess there are a few reasons to live that I've been clinging on to. Shitty reasons, but they are there. It should be for my friends and familey, but it's stuff like I want to see mlp season 8 and I want to see how Trump will play out. I'm a bad friend. I can't even feel happy for my friend getting a free ride to collge. I should but I don't want her to be away from me and I'm jellous of the money. It's sick. I'm a sick person. I have another friend too, hes online, but I feel like he only sticks around when I say nice things about him, and I just leach off of him for frindship because I'm so fucking loney. I think I'm gonna take all those pills I was suposed to be taking over the past year all at once. It will be a statement to all the things I should have done but didn't. It will be my punishment I think. At least I'll get to die befor things get as bad as I know they are going to. It sucks I'm going to die eather on or right befor my birthday Ah fuck. Idk what I'm going to do. Mabye I'm too much of a cowrd. I dont know anymore Ill miss my dad. And my mom. And my sisters. And my dog. And my friends Kat and Daniel. I love you all.

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quicklycraftymiracle-blog · 6 years

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mafreemantle · 7 years

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The Golden River Spur

I failed my driver’s license test twice and only got it on the third occasion by bribing my instructor. The first time, when perched on a hill with my handbrake up, poised to attempt the dreaded “hill start”, I nervously plunged the gearstick past first and into reverse. I revved the engine, released the handbrake and flew backwards towards the instructor, who leapt out of the way and flung his clipboard onto the grass in the process. No words were exchanged and none were needed. I had failed with flying colours.

I shouldn’t have gone back to Durbanville for a second test. I shouldn’t have gone back to Durbanville for any reason, but specifically for a doomed exam. Doomed because anyone who fails so flamboyantly the first time is going to have his work cut out the second time around and so it proved. I did make it up the hill but not out of the yard; a bumped pole, a sigh, a familiar traipse back to the office and I was back in the car with my mother. I remember being more concerned about the fact that I’d wasted the application fee than anything else.

It would be two years before my third try and only after my learner’s license had expired, which meant going back to Ottery to rewrite it, the whole process becoming like a boring version of snakes and ladders. The first time, I arrived full of confidence and duly failed. Having scraped through the second one, I finagled an appointment at Fish Hoek testing centre. Smaller, flatter, more English than Durbanville, I thought: I’ll pass this one.

In fact, I simply had to pass. A week after the appointment I was due to fly to Sweden to begin a life with a girl I had rashly proposed to earlier that year on a small, treeless island half an hour from Malmö. Later, when we inevitably parted, I realised that proposing to marry someone actually means wanting to be married to them and isn’t, as I firmly believed at the time, just a new and cool way of saying you’re into someone. But this was long before that. The pressure was on. I started the car.

Fish Hoek was odd in that you had to drive a bit to get to the place where the driving test began. In that short journey to the yard, I wasn’t sure whether I was being tested or not. This uncertainly would prove crucial when, having aced the various neck-craning, eye-darting assignments in the yard, I rolled the car very slightly as we parked in front of my instructor’s office, stopping him halfway through a sentence I was sure was about to conjure the magic word: “passed”.

“Hmm,” he said instead. “I’m sorry but that’s a fail.” I frantically tried to argue that this bit wasn’t the real test, that the test began and ended in the yard, but quickly realised the insanity of my pleas and simply gave up. A few seconds passed in silence. We sat together, our seatbelts still on, in a parking lot empty but for the car we were in, a Toyota Tazz, I recall. I had nothing left to say. I was a 20-year-old engaged university dropout who had failed his driver’s test for a third time and whose mother was sitting in another car, a sky blue Opel Cub I recall, reading and waiting to pay, at the other side of the building.

“I…can’t fail this test,” I said eventually, to nobody really; it was a way of bracing myself for the walk of shame. But my test was not over. As I reached for the keys in the ignition, the instructor, who curiously still hadn’t taken his seatbelt off, spoke three words I will never forget. He said them slowly, deliberately. “Talk to me,” he said, staring straight ahead.

So, I talked. I told him my story. He listened patiently and when it was over, he told me he had an idea. He would go inside to look over the paperwork and I would go to KFC and buy a Zinger meal. Why? It being early in the morning, he hadn’t yet had breakfast. I must have thought this was perfectly reasonable because I went straight to my mother and got into the car. Our conversation went something like this:

Mom: “And?”

Me: “We need to go to KFC”

Mom: “Did you pass?”

Me: “I won’t know until we go to KFC.”

We drove into the centre of Fish Hoek and found the KFC easily. I went to the door, stared through the glass into the empty kitchen and my heart sank. It was closed. I am going to fail my driver’s test because KFC is not open, I thought. I was not ready to be amused by this.

Whether it was my idea or my mother’s, it was decided that instead of going back empty handed we should try another take-away place. Wimpy? Spur? Maybe he wasn’t fussy. The Spur, too, was easy to find. Any flash of garish colour stands out against the desolate grey of a seaside town in winter. I went upstairs and found, to my relief, a smattering of bored waitrons. One handed me a large wooden menu in the shape of a tombstone and I found what seemed to be the closest to a zinger meal we were likely to get at 9am on a Tuesday morning in Fish Hoek.

We drove back from the Golden River Spur in silence. I placed the bag on the instructor’s desk. He peered into it, regarding the contents. Was he counting them? Burger – check. Chips – check. Fanta – check.

He opened a drawer in his desk and found a stamp. Wetting it with a prolonged, firm push into the inkpad, he began the routine I had waited years to see: a violent double stamp, the flourish of a pen, a bit of sticky tape over a photo of my smiling face. With that, it was done. I had my driver’s license.

That was 17 years ago, the same winter Hansie Cronje was in court over match fixing allegations. There was a mood of corruption in the air. I remember going through the motions, not realising - not wanting to realise, perhaps – what was happening. It was years after that strange morning when the penny finally dropped. I hadn’t passed my driver’s license, I had bought it for a chicken burger. I had passed, but I had also failed.

Questions remain. Was this just the sort of thing that happened at Fish Hoek testing centre? Should I have done something about it? And where was my mother in all of this? When I play the movie back in my head, she plays a minor supporting act. She is uncritical, compliant even. But I know she would have asked questions if she had cottoned on. Perhaps I lied to her when I got back to the car. Perhaps I couldn’t bear to tell her I’d failed again. Perhaps. I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.

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girlscience · 19 days

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I knew I needed to start looking into classes and figuring out what I was going to take in the fall, but apparently I need to have it done now. I just got an email about my TA schedule and I have one week to get it done, which means I have 5 days to get signed up for classes. I am going to cry.

#genuinely got hit with the most panic I have felt in a long time #the email says I CANNOT change my schedule once it's in because they would have to change all the other TA schedules as well #aaaaaaaaaaaaa #I have too many things 😭#I don't have an apartment. I have a vet appointment and a doctor appointment #and my glasses STILL aren't right so I need to get a real appointment for that #and I need to take my car to get the AC fixed since I never did that last summer #and I need to pack up my apartment #and do stuff with my benefits from work #and my internet and electricity need shut off #AND I STILL DONT HAVE A PLACE TO LIVE #I had plans for things I was doing this and next month with friends #and honestly I might end up canceling all of it #which I would feel so shitty about but the stress is climbing surprisingly fast #but I also feel like if I planned better I would be fine and would have time #and if I would simply not ever play video games or watch tv or read anything I would have time #and I need to memorize a bunch of fish!!!!!! I haven't started on that either

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

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Heart of stone chapter 5

I awoke to the sound of an alarm going off, shrill and piercing in my ears. I groaned as I reached over to shut it off, wishing that I could hit the snooze button again. I had stayed out entirely too late and I regretted giving in to Allyson’s ‘just one more drink’ plead.

I was exhausted.

When I had gone to bed the night before, I was sure that sleep would come quickly, the effects of dancing and a little too much alcohol helping me along. Unfortunately, I had no such luck. Instead, I had tossed and turned most of the night, the sandman evading me for hours, until I eventually drifted off sometime after three in the morning.

I forced myself to roll out of bed and get ready for the interview. Groggy and fuzzy with exhaustion, I trudged into the bathroom and started the shower – full force and blistering hot.

I chanced a look in the mirror and saw that my eyes showed little signs of rest. The dark smudges under them would be difficult to disguise with makeup, on top of trying to cover the yellowing remnants of my bruise.

I climbed into the scalding shower and leaned my head against the tiled wall. I allowed the steam to envelop me and thought about the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed me during the night.

My history with Trevor had come back to the forefront of my mind, and I cursed Allyson for bringing him up. I had tried to force the depressing memories of Trevor from my head, only to find my thoughts slowly evolve into visions of Justin Stone and the feelings he stirred deep inside me – feelings that I didn’t want to feel and had kept buried for so long. For the first time in years, I was physically attracted to a man. It pained me to admit it, even to myself.

I got out of the shower and towel dried my hair. I knew that I had to stop thinking about all of this nonsense, especially since the probability of seeing Justin again was slim to none.

I’m being ridiculous. Time to screw my head back on and focus my energies on the interview.

Moving to my bedroom, I turned on the stereo. Music was my own personal therapy. I couldn’t play an instrument, and I could barely carry a tune – but I could feel music. The right melody had the power to change my mood in an instant, and that’s exactly what I needed right now to help reign in the desolate memories and unwelcomed thoughts.

I perused my iPod for the right thing and finally settled on “Stompa”. The catchy toe-tapping tune was the perfect solution to get my body moving. I pressed play, closed my eyes, and allowed the singers deep melodious voice wash over me. As the beat of the song began to pick up, a gradual smile formed on my lips and my head started bopping in time to the ascending bass line. Already feeling an upshift in mood, I made my way to the closet and looked for something to wear.

When I finished dressing, I spun slowly in the full-length mirror, taking in all of my five feet six inches. I had chosen a simple knee-length navy blue skirt and a matching suit jacket over a cream colored blouse. Low pumps on my feet and pearl teardrop earrings for my ears completed the classic look. I had styled my hair up in a loose twist, praying that it would stay put until my interview was over. My makeup was subtle, with just a hint of coal on my eyes and a touch of pink gloss. I thought that my overall appearance looked smart, without seeming presumptuous.

I checked the time on my nightstand clock.

Crap!

I took me too long to get ready and I couldn’t be late. I needed to land this job. As it was, I slept in later than I had intended and didn’t leave myself any time to research Turning Stone Advertising. I was going into the interview blind.

I turned off the stereo, sent a silent thanks to Serena Ryder for fixing my mental state, and dashed out the door.

When I had reached the main lobby of my building, Philip, the doorman, was there to greet me.

“Good morning, Miss Cole,” he said, his jolly face crinkling with a smile.

“Morning, Phil,” I answered distractedly. “I need a cab today. Could you call for one please? I’m short on time, or else I’d enjoy the good weather and go on foot.”

Normally I would have talked with the retired cop for a minute or two, but I wasn’t feeling very chatty at that moment. Anxiety over the interview was starting to set in and I was eager to just get it over with.

“I shouldn’t have to call for the cab. There have been quite a few on the street today and waving one down shouldn’t be a problem. Come with me.”

I followed Philip outside through the lobby doors, blinking at the sudden wash of sun, and waited for him to hail me a cab. My foot tapped impatiently on the curb. It had been over a month since my last interview and I was a bundle of nerves.

“Big day, Miss?” Philip asked, looking down at my foot that was attempting to beat a hole into the sidewalk.

“Yes, a job interview,” I answered with a worried smile. The cab pulled up and Philip opened the door for me. “Wish me luck!”

He nodded and gave me a small salute as he closed the yellow car door behind me. I gave the address to the driver and the taxi sped away.

****

Traffic was terrible upon entering the financial district, but we still made good time. For once I was thankful for the fearless and reckless driving of a New York City cabbie, despite the fact that my knuckles were white from hanging on to the seat so tightly.

When the cab screeched to a halt at our destination, I paid the driver and stepped out onto the pavement. I looked up apprehensively at the impressive structure towering before me. There was a large sign above the main entrance that read Cornerstone Tower in silver lettering. A sleek ornamental spire soared high above the building, piercing a stray passing cloud.

The sheer size of the place was intimidating, and I found my steps towards the revolving glass doors to be somewhat hesitant. I tilted my head from side to side, stretching my neck like boxer headed into the ring.

I need to relax. I’ve got this.

However, as much as I tried to talk myself down, I was still a nervous wreck when I walked through the main doors. I knew that my career opportunities in New York were starting to run out. If I wanted to stay in the city, it was vital that I ace this interview.

The vestibule was large and it took me a moment to locate the security desk. There was a man wearing an official looking uniform behind a polished mahogany wood counter. He was looking at the security monitors and didn’t notice my arrival.

I cleared my throat and said, “Excuse me, sir. My name is Selena Cole. I have an appointment with Laura Kaufman today at nine o’clock.”

The security guard glanced up at me before looking down at a logbook on the desk. He ran his finger along the page until he located my name.

“Yes, Miss Cole. Just take the elevator to the fiftieth floor. Ms. Kaufman is expecting you,” he said with a kind smile. He pointed down a corridor to his left. “The elevators are just down that hall.”

“Thank you.”

I made my way across the blue veined marble floors towards the bank of elevators. When I reached them, I typed the floor number into the keypad.

Here goes nothing.

The doors slid opened and I stepped inside. My ears popped as the elevator climbed higher and higher. When the lift finally reached its destination, a lavish waiting area came into view.

The room was furnished with several slate gray leather sofas. They were contemporary in style and positioned in a U shape off to my right. A low glass table sat in the middle of the sofas, displaying some sort of small stone sculpture. Eclectic artwork in varying shades of grays and blues adorned the stark white walls.

When I looked to my left, an attractive woman in a killer designer suit stood up from behind a desk. Her suit was a vibrant emerald green and it hugged every one of her flawless curves. Her makeup was impeccable and not a single strand of her angled bob was out of place. She looked professional, yet exceedingly sexy at the same time. When she walked around the desk to where I was standing, matching six inch green stilettos came into view.

I would kill myself if I ever tried to walk in shoes like that.

I was suddenly very self-conscious of my modest navy blue jacket and skirt.

“You must be Selena Cole. I’m Laura Kaufman.” She smiled and extended a perfectly manicured hand to me.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Kaufman,” I replied as I shook her hand. She appeared to be in her early thirties, younger than I had anticipated based on our brief phone conversation. Her voice was so gentle and sweet, that I had pictured her to be the grandmotherly type. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

“Please, call me Laura. Just one moment please.” She walked back behind her desk and pressed a button on the desktop phone. “Excuse me, sir. Miss Cole has arrived for her interview. Shall I bring her to your office? Or would you prefer the conference room?”

“Come to the conference room, Laura. I’m just finishing up with something,” said a male voice from the speaker.

Laura turned back to me, “If you follow me this way, I’ll bring you to Mr. Stone now.”

Mr. Stone?

My eyes widened in surprise upon hearing the name.

No way. It can’t be the same guy. Mr. Blue Eyes. Mr. Keep-me-up-all-night-dreaming-of-sapphire. Impossible.

Then the light bulb went on, a blinding glare that almost knocked me flat on my ass, as I remembered all of the things that I knew about Justin Stone.

Stone Enterprise. Stoneworks Foundation.

My stomach dropped as panic began to set in. The building that I stood in was called Cornerstone Tower. And I was about to interview for a position at Turning Stone Advertising.

It has to be the same Mr. Stone. How can I be so ridiculously obtuse?

I cursed quietly under my breath, knowing that the smart thing to do would be to leave immediately.

If I can’t figure out what one plus one is, I’m obviously unfit for the job.

“Forgive me, Ms. Kaufman, but I assumed that I would be interviewing with you,” I said with a wobbly smile, scrambling to think of a way out of the situation.

“I’m sorry?” She looked confused by my statement.

“I, um…” I stuttered as I tried to think of something – anything that might prevent me from coming face to face with Justin Stone again. “I didn’t realize that I’d be interviewing with Mr. Stone. I assumed that since you were a large company, you would have an HR department handle your hiring,” I explained, not able to come up with anything better. I could only hope that this actually was a large company.

Realization dawned on Laura’s face.

“Mr. Stone must be considering you for an important position, or else that would normally be the case. Our human resources department usually handles the initial applicant screening. However, Mr. Stone personally conducts all of the interviews for high potential candidates,” she clarified with a smile.

High potential?

My palms began to sweat as I silently followed the strawberry blond Laura to the conference room. Her subtle red hair was a reminder of all the articles that I had read online about Justin Stone’s preference for redheads.

But surely that can’t be a prerequisite for working for him? Or can it?

My stomach constricted into a nervous knot. Everything about the situation was terribly wrong. Not only was I a fool for not connecting the dots, but I also had the wrong hair color for the job.

Someone like Justin Stone would want to hire someone smart and witty – not someone who’s tongue got stuck to the roof of her mouth every time he was near. This was a disaster in the making. He was too distracting, nothing but sex and sin and every girls spiciest fantasy. I couldn’t imagine the thought of going through an entire job interview with him.

I felt like I was walking through a tunnel, my nerves gradually taking over every rational part of me. Apprehension caused my steps to lag slowly behind Laura as she made towards the door at the end of the corridor.

I toyed with the idea of bolting right then and there, but my window of time for a quick exit had ended. We had reached the conference room. I took a deep breath and made a conscious effort to still my fidgeting hands.

Keep it together – it’s a job interview. I’m overreacting.

Feeling only slightly more composed, I stepped through the door that Laura held open for me.

Maybe it’s not even the same Mr. Stone.

But it was.

Justin Stone stood facing away from me at the far end of the room. Even though I couldn’t see his face, there was no mistaking his powerfully built physique. He was on the phone, with one hand in his pocket, looking out through floor to ceiling windows at the Manhattan Skyline.

He turned to see Laura and me standing there and motioned to me to sit down. I looked at Laura for direction. She smiled and pointed to a chair near the end of a large etched glass conference table. I sat down and took a minute to further calm my nerves and take stock of my surroundings.

The furniture was sleek and modern. The table at which I sat was large enough to seat at least thirty people. The center of the table displayed a long, boat-shaped glass bowl, filled with blue, white, and black stones. There were several high-tech looking videoconference phones on the table as well.

The walls were all painted the same bright white as the waiting area. Two enormous flat screen television panels adorned the wall to my right, one of them tuned in to Bloomberg TV with the volume muted. On my left, recessed shelves held a collection of blue vases, all varying in shade, size, and shape. The far wall was nothing but glass, revealing and impressive view of New York. The room surely exhibited power and wealth, but it was nothing compared to the man who stood in it.

I studied Justin Stone as he paced the back of the conference room. He wore black suit pants and a white shirt. He wore no jacket again today, but I saw that he had one draped over the back of one of the conference room chairs. His silver tie was loosened at the neck and his top button was undone. He looked comfortable and self-assured, and carried himself with an air of sophistication and poise. He appeared larger than life, as if he were holding the world in the palm of his hand.

“Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, water? Mr. Stone is just finishing up his call,” Laura offered, her voice low so as not to disrupt her boss. I looked up at her mannerly smile. I had almost forgotten that she was there.

“Yes, please. Water would be great,” I accepted, mirroring her hushed tone. Holding a glass of water would give me something to do with my hands, which fidgeted once again in my lap. Any sort of caffeine would just wreak havoc on my already tremulous nerves.

Just as Laura placed the glass of water on a coaster in front of me, Justin ended his call and turned around to face us.

“Thank you, Laura. That will be all for now.”

“Yes, Mr. Stone.”

With a small nod, Laura quietly exited the room, leaving me alone with the formidable Justin Stone.

He turned his attention to me and flashed a dazzling smile, revealing perfect white teeth.

God, this man is undeniably gorgeous.

“Good morning, Miss Cole. I apologize for the wait. I hadn’t anticipated my call to run so long.”

That’s okay – I was enjoying the view of your scrumptious behind.

“It was no trouble at all,” I murmured, rather than voice my real thoughts.

He made his way towards me, his swagger ever so prominent, and sat in a chair next to mine. He leaned back, crossed an ankle over one knee, and casually folded his hands together. For some insane reason, I felt myself blushing. I had to remind myself to breath.

“Miss Cole, are you okay? You look flushed.”

My hands immediately went to my face as I scrambled to find my voice.

“I’m fine. It’s the high elevation. Sometimes it makes me light headed,” I lied as I reached for my glass of water. I swallowed a huge gulp.

“High elevation?” he questioned skeptically.

I took another drink of water.

“Yes, this happens to me whenever I’m in tall buildings,” I said, continuing the fib in a rush.

Tall building is an understatement. Stone owns a skyscraper.

“I see,” was his only response.

If I wasn’t mistaken, I thought he looked amused.

He probably is. Women must fall all over him every day.

However, I didn’t have the luxury to be amongst those women. I had to put the breaks on and get my wits about me. This was a professional interview for a real job. I could not allow myself to blow this because my stalled out libido decided to suddenly kick into overdrive.

“Did you know that I was the one you were interviewing? Because I don’t believe in coincidences,” I blurted out.

Smooth, real smooth.

“Of course,” he answered without prevarication.

“I figured as much. But I have to ask, how did you get my résumé?” I asked with honest curiosity, finding myself relaxing a bit.

I can do this.

“It was only a matter of making the correct inquiries, Miss Cole. I was intrigued after our meeting at Wally’s and wanted to find out more about you. I asked a few simple questions, and I learned that you were a marketing major. An informal background inquiry filled in the blanks. Since I happen to have a position available in marketing, I arranged an interview with you.”

“You ordered a background check on me?” I asked, instinctively feeling violated.

Didn’t he need to obtain my consent for that?

I wasn’t sure what to think about the infringement of privacy.

“It was nothing that technical, I assure you. Everyone I consider for employment receives a basic check before an interview is even scheduled. It makes things easier.”

“Easier in what way?” I asked.

“Easier for all parties involved. You’d be amazed at what social media can reveal about a person,” he replied nonchalantly, a smile forming ever so subtly on his lips. We sat there in a silence that seemed to stretch on for hours, yet I knew it was only a few seconds, a minute at most. I’m sure he sensed my unease, but he continued to watch me with one eyebrow tilted up, his eyes alight with humor, before finally speaking again. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“That I’m amusing you somehow,” I admitted frankly.

“There’s nothing amusing at all, Miss Cole,” he said, the corners of his mouth switching. I knew he was fighting a smile and it was irritating.

What the hell was so damn comical?

“Really? Then why does it seem like you’re trying not to laugh?” I retorted, a little bit too harshly.

“Your behavior tells me that you didn’t know I would be conducting your interview today. Is my assumption correct?” he asked, humor still evident in his features.

I’m such an idiot! I should have prepared for this!

“Um…sort of. Yes.”

My statement earned a small chuckle from him and it was maddening. I couldn’t help but jump on the defense.

“Do you always laugh at your prospective employees?” I challenged.

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing more at the quandary that I find myself in. I’ve never met a woman quite like you. I find your innocence refreshing. Most women I meet are very calculating and extremely predictable. You’re different somehow.” He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing. “It’s a nuisance, actually.”

His arrogance astounded me and I found his generalization of women insulting.

“I’m sorry that I don’t fit into a preselected mold, Mr. Stone. Would you rather I played into your defined notion that all women are the same?” I asked him, my voice loaded with contempt.

“You’re asking an awful lot of questions, Miss Cole.”

He had stopped smiling now and his eyes turned icy.

Oh, shit. He’s right.

The entire situation was beginning to spiral out of control. I was asking too many questions that I had no right to ask. I was probably fired before I was even offered a position, and it was one that I gravely needed.

My kneejerk reaction was to lash out. But I was too outspoken for my own good and it could cost me this job. Temper aside, I knew that I was being a hypocrite. After all, I was the one who thought that all men were the same. So I silenced my tongue, feeling ashamed at my boldness, and looked down at my hands.

He is Justin Stone, mega-rich millionaire, and I’m being rude.

“Can we proceed with your interview now?”

“Yes,” I answered meekly.

“Yes, Mr. Stone,” he added with an air of quiet authority.

My head snapped up.

Yes, Mr. Stone?

He hadn’t yelled. Yet, there was no need to. His subtle command was enough to detonate through my system, causing a knot to form in my gut. He was a man well accustomed to getting what he wanted.

Warning bells went off as I recalled my conversation with Justin from the day prior. My initial impression of him was correct – he really was a control freak. Every instinct that I possessed was telling me to leave the room immediately and that this was bad. Really bad. Yet, for some totally insane reason, I found myself mildly aroused by his assumed authority and the power that emanated from him. It compelled me to stay rooted to the chair.

“Yes, Mr. Stone,” I repeated like a parrot.

I was like an errant child who had just been scolded, my voice small and pathetic to my ears. I couldn’t believe that I was actually listening to him.

The mood swings that I had experienced since entering this room were making my head spin. Anxiety, anger, embarrassment, and lust – I had felt them all and I struggled to find stability within the hurricane.

I saw him looking down at my fidgeting hands. I stilled them immediately and took hold of my glass of water.

I need to remember why I’m here – I need this job.

“That’s better,” he murmured. He sounded satisfied, his face revealing a tiny smile. Whether it was because I stopped fidgeting or because I followed his order, I couldn’t be sure. The one thing I did know was that the balance in the room had rapidly shifted. I remained quiet and waited for his lead.

“There is a position at Turning Stone Advertising that needs to be filled. While the company is merely a subsidiary of Stone Enterprise, I occasionally get involved in their day to day business requirements.” He got up from his chair and walked to the window. With confident grace, he clasped his hands behind his back and continued, “I am always on the lookout for qualified and experienced applicants. In my world, incompetence is not something that is tolerated. I like my people to be driven, reliable, and efficient. When I give a direction, I expect it to be followed to the letter, without question. When I find an individual that fit this persona, I hire them, and pay them well so that they continue their employment with me. You, Miss Cole, have displayed that potential.”

“I appreciate you seeing the potential in me, Mr. Stone,” I responded respectfully, making sure to say his name properly.

“Exactly how much still remains to be seen,” he said thoughtfully, almost as if he were speaking to himself.

He turned to study me for a moment. His careful scrutiny was intimidating. He reminded me of a lion stalking his prey. If I gave him the opportunity, I knew this man was capable of stripping my soul bare. No man has ever affected me in this way. He was irritating, arrogant, and alluring all at once. My stomach began doing that annoying flippy thing and I shifted uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze.

“Tell me about your job duties at Wally’s.”

“Well, um, sir – Mr. Stone,” I stumbled over my words, trying to remember whatever the hell it was I did at my current job. “I mainly stock shelves and build displays. Occasionally, Mr. Roberts will have me bring groceries as a courtesy to the homes of our elderly clientele.”

“That’s a very noble thing to do. It makes me feel good about my investment decision.”

“So you’ve decided to invest in Wally’s?” I excitedly asked, momentarily forgetting that I was supposed to maintain a professional demeanor. As much as I wanted out of my current place of employment, I enjoyed my time there. I didn’t want to see Wally’s close and was happy to learn that the grocer might be saved.

“I am not going to invest in them per say. My business is in real estate, not retail food chains. I’m just going to buy their buildings, which will help relieve some of their overhead expenses. There are a few wrinkles that still need to be ironed out, but I’m confident that an agreement will be reached sometime within the next month.” He seemed annoyed at my interruption and didn’t elaborate any further about the deal. Instead, he continued on with his interview questioning. “You have a bachelor’s degree from NYU in marketing. What made you choose that as your major?”

That question had me stumped. Nobody had ever asked me that and I never seriously considered the reason why I had chosen marketing. I just liked it.

I mused over his question for a moment before coming to the conclusion that my fascination was in sales. I thought that answer might sound lame, but I had nothing better so I went with it.

“I understand and appreciate the power of persuasion. Marketing, in a sense, is sales. If marketed correctly, you can sell anything. You just need to accurately target the buyer.”

“The power of persuasion?” he seemed surprised at my answer and tapped his finger thoughtfully on his chin.

“Yes. I believe that persuasion through advertising can be viewed of as a form of art. For example, a television commercial may convince an individual to buy a product that they don’t really need if it’s marketed correctly. Images, music, presentation – it is all one big package, crafted and bundled up to influence the consumer.”

“Very true,” he said with an appreciative nod. “Now tell me, what persuades you, Miss Cole?”

He cast me an unsettling look, one that made me feel another little twist in my belly.

“Persuades me? I’m not sure that I follow you.”

“What influences you, or sways you, to do something you normally wouldn’t?”

“Music,” I stated simply, fighting to keep my faculties together. He cocked one sexy eyebrow at me, waiting for me to say more.

Focus on the question – not his eyebrow!

“Care to explain?” he pushed.

“Music can be a powerful source in marketing. For me, the right tune has the power to influence me one way or another in just about anything.”

“That’s very interesting insight,” he said with a catlike smile, making me think that he had a secret that only he was privy to. He leisurely walked back to the table to reclaim his seat next to me. “I’m curious. What sort of music would influence you?”

“Um…” I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair. “Well, I guess it would depend on what you were trying to sell me.”

“Ah, but maybe the bigger question would be – are you looking to buy?” he asked suggestively.

Heat flooded my face for what seemed like the five hundredth time in the past three days. I hated that I blushed so easily and I automatically brought my hands to my face to hide my cheeks. A strange and unfamiliar ache began between my legs, only adding to my mortification.

“High elevation getting to you again?”

“Something like that,” I mumbled, and I would swear that my face turned ten shades redder.

Turned on by interview questions. Great. I’m out of my tree.

“Tell me about your experience,” he said suddenly, changing directions.

“My experience with what exactly, Mr. Stone?”

His cryptic line of questioning was confusing. I couldn’t keep up. Perhaps I really was going crazy. It was either that, or his mere presence was turning my brain to marshmallow. I couldn’t be sure.

“Your experience in marketing and advertising, of course.”

He watched me, eyes full of wicked humor, waiting for my response.

This has to be the strangest interview ever. He read my résumé. He knows the answer. Why would he ask me that?

“Everything is on my résumé, Mr. Stone. There’s not much more that I can elaborate on,” I flatly responded.

It was probably the worst answer that I ever gave in an interview, but I had a nagging suspicion that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about my experience in marketing. The twisting in by belly intensified, the conversation making me uneasy. It was full of double meanings and suggestive implications.

“I see.” He seemed frustrated that I didn’t give him a better answer.

The intercom buzzed, making me jump, and Laura’s voice came through the speakerphone on the table.

“I apologize for the interruption Mr. Stone, but your ten o’clock appointment is here.”

Ten o’clock appointment? Have I really been here for an hour?

“Thank you, Laura. I will be finished momentarily,” Justin responded through the speaker, sounding mildly annoyed.

My interview, if you could call it that, had clearly come to an end. I stood up and straightened my skirt. Justin Stone stood as well, his intense gaze never wavering, as he watched my every move. I felt naked, despite my blouse and skirt, and my skin grew hot under his scrutiny. I tried to figure out what he was thinking, but his facial expression was unreadable, cool almost. Yet, I was able to detect a sense of uncertainty in his eyes. His stare made me self-conscious and I immediately moved to smooth out my hair.

“Your hair is fine, Selena.”

Holy crap – he called me Selena.

I wondered what made him drop the formalities.

“Uh, thanks,” was the only response I could muster.

“It’s a bit restricted for my taste, but fine all the same.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

I was trying to fathom what he meant by that, when he reached over to one of the phones and pressed the intercom button.

“Laura, please reschedule my ten o’clock.”

Holy hell – he wants to keep me here?

I didn’t know if I could handle another minute in his presence. I wasn’t myself when I was near him. My careful guard, the walls that I tightly clung to whenever I was near another man, seemed to crumble to the wayside with just one look from him. I could feel my heart begin to race as I watched him move at a slow pace towards me, a predatory gleam shining in his eyes.

He took a step closer and reached for my hands. I would swear that my fluttering heart stilled at the contact.

“Why do you twist your hands the way that you do?” he asked, his sapphire eyes blazing into mine.

Was I fidgeting again?

I hadn’t even realized I was doing it.

“A nervous habit,” I explained. Incapable of withstanding his fiery gaze, I turned my head to the left and focused on the blue vases along the wall.

“Look at me, Selena.” He reached one hand up to turn my chin so that I was forced to face him. Something dark smoldered in the depths of those ruthless cobalt blues, and I wondered if he was going to kiss me. My legs trembled and I cursed myself for wearing pumps rather than flats. “I make you nervous,” he said, his voice becoming deep and throaty.

I couldn’t talk. I was a wreck.

When I didn’t respond, Justin removed his hand from my chin and slowly ran a thumb over my brow. My breathing suddenly became shallow, as the air seemed to turn thick and suffocating.

“Your bruise is healing nicely.”

“Yes it is,” I agreed, my voice barely above a whisper. He was way too close to me, clouding my senses so that I couldn’t think straight. I tried to step back but he still held my hand firmly in his.

He leaned in closer and I could feel his breath hot on my neck. I allowed the smell of him to envelop me – a mix of sandalwood and his natural male scent. The combination was deadly, like the sexy smell in the air that tempts you to stay outdoors right before a wicked thunderstorm. And at that moment, I was more than willing to be struck by a bolt of lightning.

“This will never work, Selena. I’m a bad match for someone like you. If you were wise, you would leave my building and never look back,” he warned, his voice low and thick in my ear, causing a prickle at my nape.

The thought of why he might not be good for me had my toes curling in my shoes. I didn’t care how bad he was. I could be the judge of that later. I dismissed the pesky voice in my head that said all men were evil. The devil was out and he was doing a tap dance on my shoulder. The sudden need to taste Justin’s lips on mine was overwhelming.

He moved his hands and softly traced the pads of his thumbs over my collarbone, causing a tremor to course through me. He placed his palms on each side of my neck and his fingers rested at the base of my skull, making a circular motion at my hairline.

I was coming apart at the seams.

I closed my eyes at the intimate contact and allowed a small moan to escape my lips. His mouth hovered temptingly over mine. I could only hold my breath in anticipation of the kiss that I knew was about to come.

The intercom buzzed again and Laura’s voice came through the speaker, loud and intrusive.

“I’m very sorry sir, but Ms. Andrews is insisting on keeping her appointment. She’s on her way up from the lobby now.”

Justin let go of me suddenly, as if I had shocked him, causing me to stagger back a few steps. My knees wobbled and I had to work to steady myself. My head was reeling.

Damn you, Ms. Andrews!

I didn’t know who in the hell Ms. Andrews was, but I despised her at that moment.

I looked at him, now standing a good ten feet away from me. He closed his eyes and ran both hands through his hair. He gave his head a slight shake, as if he were attempting to clear it.

When he finally looked at me again, his expression was blank. There was nothing in his appearance that would have revealed what had happened in the last few minutes.

“I would like to finish your interview, Selena,” he finally said, albeit rather abruptly.

“When would you like to reschedule, Mr. Stone?” I asked, my words sounding faint in my ears. I could barely get the words out, my body still swimming with unexplainable desire.

“I don’t know…” His voice trailed off, uncertainty briefly clouding his features. However, he regained his composure in an instant, once again adorning a poker face that showed no emotion. “It’s probably best for both of us if you leave now, Miss Cole.”

Formal. Back to business.

His tone was firm and detached. It was as if a switch had flipped and he appeared completely unaffected by our encounter.

I was more than just a little bit stunned. I felt rejected. Speechless. I could only stand there, a shaky mess, gaping at him.

What game is he playing at? Is he going to reschedule or not?

And does he want me or doesn’t he?

In a daze, I bent to retrieve my purse from the chair where I had been sitting. When I turned, Justin was waiting for me by the door.

“Laura will be at the reception desk waiting to see you out. Have a good day.”

And with that, he spun on his heal and exited the conference room.

Well, that’s just fine and great, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. If you want to play head games with me, then you’ve met your match.

I was the master at wearing masks.

I quickly put on an expression of disinterest and exited the room, displaying an air of confidence that I didn’t truly feel. I certainly didn’t need the lovely Laura to walk me out. I would show myself out.

I rounded the corner that would take me into the waiting area and made my way towards the leather sofas, walking at a measured pace. So preoccupied with keeping up my façade, I almost collided straight into a woman that was coming towards me.

She was strikingly beautiful with long, shiny black hair. She wore a deep purple colored high-neck cotton dress that covered her slender frame from head to toe. The only show of skin was from the slit that ran up the side of her leg. The dress wrapped her body so tightly, that she might as well have worn nothing at all.

“Excuse me,” she said impatiently, as if she was in a hurry. I quickly moved aside to let her by and continued towards the elevators.

I heard Laura call out to me, but I ignored her and kept on walking. I knew that I was being petty, but if I opened my mouth, I risked crumbling my control. The elevator doors were opened and waiting. I needed to get to them quickly before they closed.

I stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the lobby. I just wanted to go home to think. I needed to figure out how I let all of this happen. Before the doors slid shut, I spotted Justin stepping through the door of an office off of the waiting room. The beautiful black haired woman hurried towards him and embraced him in a hug. I sucked in my breath as if I’d been sucker punched. There was no denying the affection that passed between them.

Justin looked over the shoulder of the woman. His blue eyes locked on mine.

Why, you son of a bitch…

That was all I could think as the elevator doors slowly slid shut.

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