Make Me Feel Alive

I literally had a dollar to my name.
And that dollar was either going for a soda or a bag of pretzels.
I stood anxiously in the convenience store, debating. Pretzels were salty, and I would end up needing something to drink. And if I got a soda it would only make me thirstier in the long run.
So I put both of them back.
I sighed, and grabbed the cheapest bottle of water I could find.
It had to get better then this sometime, I told myself, traipsing up the stairs to my job twenty minutes later. I mean, you're doing well for yourself, Morgan! You have a job at a music label, you can make rent every month, and hey, you can stand to lose a few pounds in the long run, so taking the stairs was also a good thing.
And I always had this fear of getting trapped in an elevator.
I sighed, and pushed open the door to my floor. I loved working here, dealing with all the different music artists and producers, even if I was just the lowly receptionist who just answered phones and kept various appointments.
I made it to my desk before my lunch was over, not that I'd eaten anything. Me and my bottle of water were just going to have to get along until the end of the day when I could go home to my loving, hateful, bi-polar cat Toby.
God, I was twenty-three years old and lived alone with a cat. I should be ashamed.
I sighed, and sat down at my desk. I logged back onto the computer, and glanced over at the printer to see a few papers waiting. I rolled my chair back, and nudged my black glasses back up on my nose where I could see.
All of these went to Mr. Wireman, the creepy perv sound manager. I hated delivering anything to him, or just being near him in general. It would just have to wait anyway; he didn't get bacl from lunch for another thirty minutes. Neither did Craig, one of the band managers who was really nice, and I liked having him around just in case.
I heard laughter coming from the kitchen in the back. One of the bands were supposed to be recording new music today, but I think they were having issues with the equipment, so they were goofing off.
The elevator dinged, and I glanced up as the gold doors slid open.
I blinked.
All I could see was roses, and the tattooed arms attempting to carry them to my desk without tripping over anything.
"Um, can I help you?" I asked as the person sat them down with a clink, spilling a little of the water. I hesitated, staring.
That was a lot of roses.
"Yeah. These are for Leah," the guy said, and took a step to the side so I could finally look at him. He had his dark hair loose, though he had a bandana holding it from his face, sunglasses hiding his eyes. He grinned at me, and I realized I was staring.
"U-um, Leah Kabinov?" I managed, blushing. Was this her boyfriend?
"Yeah."
"Um, okay, let me just go get her," I mumbled, whirling my chair around quickly. I hopped to my feet and took off down the hall.
God, why did my brain not work when it came to guys? I had a boyfriend, you'd think I would be better then this and NOT gawk at them.
"Oh, Miss Kabinov!" I called quickly, seeing her walk out of the kitchen. She turned at my voice. "There's someone here to see you."
She frowned a momet, then nodded. She sent me smile as she walked past me to the front; she was so much shorter then me but she made me feel so small. Maybe it was the fact I was the definition of lame, I thought, hearing Miss Kabinov and the man start talking.
Ashley? Wasn't that a girl name?
You're not supposed to spy! I chided myself, and continued down the hallway. At least I'd still had Mr. Wiremans papers in my hand; I could drop them off in his office and give them some privacy up front. And I needed a rag to clean up all the spilt water all over my desk.
I peeked inside the office, but luckily he wasn't there so I hastily laid the papers on the desk, and then went to the kitchen. The rest of Miss Kabinovs band was sitting at the table, and I flashed them a smile as I went searching for napkins. I grabbed a few off the counter, then started back to the front.
"See you later, sweetcheeks!" I heard the man call, and stayed out of the way as she carried the huge vase of roses to the back.
That had been so nice, I thought, and made it back to my desk. I mopped up all the water, and grimaced as I realized it had spilled over a few of my papers. I lifted up one page, seeing the ink smearing. I would have to retype all of it.
I sat down heavily, and pulled up a word document. Might as well get it over with, I thought, and reached for the phone as it rang.
"Starling Studios, this is Morgan, how can I help you?" I asked, propping it against my shoulder. "Flowers? Yes, sir, they were just delivered."
Why did this voice sound so familiar?
"You're welcome," I hung the phone up as he thanked me. That was weird. I finished typing the document, and printed it hastily.
"Ms. Tate," I looked over as Mr. Burrows appeared from one of the back offices. "Can you take these papers down to Sandra at the front desk in the lobby? There's a lot of pages and I don't want to waste anymore faxing it."
"Of course," I took the memo from the producer. I stood, and hurried for the stairs, tugging at the hem of my dress to make it a little longer. I hated doing laundry and I was running out of clothes, plus I thought I looked right cute in this dress. It was tight till about my waist where it flowed out afterwards to almost my knees.
I made it downstairs and stepped into the lobby, walking over to where the large half-circle desk sat in the center. "Sandra, these are from Mr. Burrows," I said, handing them to her. "There was too many to fax."
She chuckled. "John is always so conscientious isn't he? He wouldn't even use paper if he didn't have too."
So true. I chatted for a brief moment, then pushed away from the desk. I started across the lobby, and glanced over as I heard a shout.
I froze, seeing a cart of big packages rolling across the floor, the worker rushing after them. And of course it was aiming for me.
I squeaked, and started to take a step back in panic, when I felt a harsh tug on the back of my dress, sending me tumbling backward. I smacked into someone, and the cart went flying past me, the worker shouting apologies as he ran by, chasing them down to where they finally smacked against the wall.
I turned slightly, glancing up at the person who had pulled me back.
"Th-thanks," I stammered, and took a step away as I realized I was still leaning on him. It was the same guy who'd brought the roses up; what was he still doing here? And why did he have his sunglasses on in the building still?
"Are you okay?" he asked, and I nodded.
"Yeah, I'm fine, thank you. That thing would've run me over."
"It would've been a shame," he agreed, and offered his hand.
"I'm Ashley."
I hesitated. "Morgan."
"You're the secretary from upstairs, right?"
"Yes."
"You like working here? Seems real busy," I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or not.
"It's always busy." I fidgeted. I twisted the hem of my dress between my fingers. Why was he talking to me?
"Huh. Well, maybe I'll see you around some." he sent me a smile, taking a few steps back. "Stay away from moving objects!"
No problem there, I thought, watching him go.
You have a boyfriend, I reminded myself, and forced my legs to move me back up the stairs to the third floor. Therefore you are not allowed to look at other guys like they're a piece of meat to eat.

Notes

Okay, so this fanfic is vaguely going to follow the same time frame as Escaping Grace, and I hope you guys like it. I'll try to make sure both are updated regularly. Let me know what you think! I always really appreciate you guys comments, it makes me feel good to know you guys are reading!