Chapter 2: Mr. Hotshot

      I walk slowly along the sidewalk, the weight of the world, or at least, the weight of these d*mn binders, pressing down on my shoulders.          

Why did I volunteer to lug all this paperwork home again? Oh right, because my boss thinks I’m some kind of workaholic superhero who can’t say no to a few extra files.         

My gut clenched with fear, I look up ahead at the tall office building.You know, another day, another dollar. These days, though, it feels more like just another day with a pile of paperwork that is just waiting to kill me.

Seriously, why are these doors so freaking heavy? Did they hire the Hulk as their doorman or something? "How am I going to pass through with these heavy binders," I said to my myself.         

Suddenly, a tall, tanned, and incredibly attractive man walks up to me. 

     It felt like heavens had sent him my way.              

And, as luck would have it, we both reach for the door simultaneously. I think I might as well take advantage of the circumstance, right?

So, I give it my best sprinter’s start and dart ahead, thinking I’ve won the race.         

But oh no, not so fast, June. Mr. Hottie has other plans. With a sassy smile that could melt icebergs, he decides to play a little game of door tag.           He lets go of the handle just as I’m about to pass through, and BAM! The door slams right into my shoulder, sending my binders flying everywhere.          Seriously, dude? What’s your problem?         

What's wrong with you?

I turn around, prepared to lash out at this person. "Hey, be careful where you go, you..."

But, before I can fully express my justified rage, I see his incredibly attractive face, and everything I was about to say vanished.

He had defined cheekbones, titan shoulders and sea-rover-blue eyes.

   So, besides being angry, I'm also at a loss for words. Exactly what I needed.

His smirk showed that he was clearly enjoying the show. With a deep, sarcastic voice, he says, "Oops, my bad."

"I didn't notice you there. I suppose next time, I'll need take more caution."

No way, no way. This person didn't simply give me the typical "I didn't see you" trick.         

With all the confidence I have left, I square my shoulders.I say, "Listen here, mister," in a poisonous tone. "I'm not sure who you think you are, but, You can't just go around slamming doors into people's shoulders and..." .But he interrupts me with a laugh and a mock amused eyebrow raise. "Whoa, you're a feisty one, aren't you? That's hot!"        

He keeps smirking at me, his eyes shining with mischief, and I can feel my blood boiling with rage. He must be quite gorgeous, but why? I feel as though the universe is cruelly mocking me.   

But I'm not going to give up. Never, ever. Dammit, even though I'm small, I'm fierce. And this person is in for another surprise if he believes he can mistreat me and get away with it.As my annoyance with Mr. Hotshot reaches a boiling pitch, I narrow my eyes. I stab him with a finger and yell, "Listen here, kid."

"You can't just act like a complete idiot and expect me to just stand here and take it; I don't know who you think you are." His smirk wavers a bit as he lifts an eyebrow. "I just wanted to enjoy myself a little. There's no reason to get all up over it. By the way you got an insane body, but in a grandma outfit? That's laughable.” He laughs, his tone mocking.         

“Stop talking about my body like that! You Perv!” I retort, my voice dripping with anger. "Please pardon me for not finding your little game of sexual innuendos and door-slamming really funny. Breaking news, friend: it's not amusing, it's not cute, and it's definitely not welcome."

Clearly unfazed by my fury, he laughs. His eyes light up with laughter as he remarks, "Whoa, someone's got a chip on their shoulder. Sweetheart, light up. We shouldn't take things too seriously since life is too short."

His disrespectful tone just serves to stoke my hatred, which is already boiling in my veins. With a sarcastic tone, I respond, "Oh, I'm sorry. I had no idea you were in charge of determining how I should spend my life. I must have been foolish and failed to ask you before deciding to exist."

He opens his mouth to reply, but I don’t give him the chance. I’ve had enough of this guy and his arrogant attitude.          

He opened his lips to respond, but I cut him off. This man's nasty behavior has reached a breaking point.

With a frustrated sigh, I picked up the binders, turned on my heel, and walked off, determined not to waste any more of my precious time on him.

Even though I can feel him looking at me as I walked off to anothe elevator, I decided not to look back.

I refuse to let him enjoy watching me get agitated or irritated. I'll be damned if he wins the war, even though he might have won the battle.       

I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset. He may have won the battle, but I’ll be damned if he wins the war.         

With my heart still racing from my run-in with that handsome silly guy, I enter the elevator. What's up with guys like him, really? It seems that having extreme beauty would not be without basic human decency.I sigh in frustration and fall back against the wall as the doors slide shut. Why is it that the bastards constantly seem to be drawn to me? Above my head, is there some unseen sign that says, "Please, feel free to treat me like crap"?I shake my head in an attempt to get rid of the remaining irritation. Getting heated up over a random guy who obviously lacks etiquette and respect for others' personal space is not worth it.  

But still, it stings. Regardless of how many times it occurs, it always hurts. Considering that I secretly wonder whether I'm flawed. Am I too loud? Too opinionated? Not pretty enough? Not modest enough?         

I examine my reflection on the mirrored walls of the elevator, looking at if I was a mess and I definitely was. My clothes, rumpled, my hair, a complete disaster, and I have a stain of lipstick on my cheek that I didn't see before. Yep, wrap the day up already.

But you know what? Screw that. Screw all of it. Even though I'm not flawless, I'm not going to let an adult man-child make me feel inferior. D*mn it, I'm Juniper Johnson, and I'm not going to be used as a punching bag.

I roared as I got out of the elevator, "I'm so done with today and it hasn't even started yet."