Not fine with me. It's been two weeks. When I first met Anne, I never would have thought we'd come to an agreement. That particular conversation hadn't really crossed my mind much until now, but it had turned me into a nocturnal creature. I stay up late at night, trying my best to work on my songs, and then I nap during the day—it's become a routine for me. I've hated feeling this way, and even admitting it to myself ignites a fiery churn in my chest. But I need Anne. Not in that way, of course. There's something about her, the way she handles herself, that pushes my buttons. One of those buttons happens to be my inspiration for creating.

The mouse, its surface marred with scratch marks, rests in my hand, a reminder of my restless state. I've been holding it for the last ten minutes, lost in thought, yearning for that spark of inspiration that Anne always seems to provide so effortlessly. A heavy sigh escapes me as I let my hand slide down my face, feeling the weight of frustration. Just then, a ping from my phone jolts me back to the present. The name 'Mae❤️' lights up my screen, bringing a wave of warmth and comfort. Instead of just texting her back, I choose to call, craving her presence which always lifts my spirits.

"Mae," I smile into the phone, missing even the subtle static sound on her side of the line.

"Y/N." She states in a sarcastically joyous way, "I'm going to kill you." Her tone turns deadpan. My smile reaches my eyes, unable to control itself from turning into a grin.

"Please do." I groan happily, leaning back into my desk chair. Thoughts of Anne are starting to creep into my brain—it's torturous.

Mae's laugh was unmistakably taunting, "Let me guess. It's that CEO, isn't it?"

God, she'll never let go of her. "Not really."

She hums, "Sure." A pause. "So it is her."

I groan again, but this time, it's out of dread knowing that I couldn't escape Mae's persistence when it came to Anne—at least, not anymore. "Y/N, I've known you my whole life. You can't hide from me."

"I could at least try," I smirk. Mae scoffs in return.

"Come on. Sexy, confident, alluring CEO who doesn't fall for famously arrogant Y/N's charm. Poor Y/N would want her all the more badly, wouldn't she?" She teased, emphasizing Anne's 'attractiveness', yet I found my chest tightening.

"I don't want her." I'm stern, and eager to prove myself.

Mae grunts, not believing me. "Suit yourself, does she like Asians?"

I chuckled at her awkward attempt to make a move on Anne, but I couldn't ignore the strange feeling that twisted in my stomach. "You're too much,"

As my laughter faded, the silence grew heavy, and I could sense Mae waiting for me to open up, to admit that Anne had done something to me; that I had been thinking about her since our last conversation. "I guess..." I started to say, but then I noticed Sean was trying to call me. It felt like a wind of relief to think about hanging up and answering him instead. He seems to always have perfect timing.

"I'll call you back," I said, finally deciding to take Sean's call, hoping to shield myself from the vulnerability that was threatening to break through.

"What?" My demeanour instantly changed, guarded and hostile. Although he saved me, yet again, from a conversation that I wasn't nearly ready to have, I was in no mood to talk to him. Or anyone. I juggled between thoughts of the persistent boredom I'd feel at his work, and the way Anne had tensed when I stared. "Important meeting. The chauffeur is waiting downstairs."

I hung up and prepared myself, wearing baggy jeans and a black T-shirt that stopped at my waist. In classic Y/N fashion, there had been no regard for my punctuality. Making sure I had my thrifted watch with me, I walked to a breakfast bar and ordered a nice meal. Fork in hand, I look to my left, noticing the weirdly empty reception, and employees preparing to change shifts. It was... reassuring. A breath of fresh air, to not be bothered in public, and to feel like a normal person.

After I finished my breakfast, I made my way to the valet parking lot, where I saw Sean waiting in the front seat. I knew I wouldn't be late, especially since Sean had reached out so early at 4 A.M. It was comforting to have a bit of time to collect my thoughts.

"Hey, Y/N." Sean turned to face me from the front seat. I looked at him, then back into space. "Morning." My response was snappy, eager to be left alone. Thankfully, my brother knew me well, and he knew to do just that. Although some part of me felt guilty, the anger outweighed everything else. As a means to not lash out, I'm better like this.

As I settled into the back seat, I noticed the signs of wear and tear—the cigarette burns near the window and the ashes that littered the floor. My notebook, too, was covered in ashes, a poignant reminder of the struggles I've started to face more frequently than before. It made me reflect on how annoying it can be to cope with the fame, the constant scrutiny, the swirling rumours, and the weight of responsibilities. The fact I knew I had to face them all pushed a weight on my shoulders. Although I didn't show it, the pressure was starting to weigh on me now, and I didn't know why.

Newer ashes started to sprawl onto the carpeted floor as I took a hit. A bitter taste I grew to love, captivating me, and leaving me heavy in just a few minutes. 

I finished the cigarette in no time, taking out another to drown my thoughts, thoughts of Anne specifically. Though, it'd only made the image of her slim figure bolder, and all the more attractive.

A familiar figure caught my eye, her long legs striding with undeniable confidence. I couldn't help but notice her black, form-fitting dress that provocatively hinted at what lay beneath, stopping just above her mid-thigh. Just as I was about to grasp her mere presence, she was suddenly right in front of me, leaving me momentarily speechless.

"Stop smoking." After two long weeks of silence, she chose to tell me what I should do as if I were some lost puppy seeking her direction. When will people understand that I don't need help, nor do I want anyone bossing me around? I lift my gaze, resolute, my expression carefully neutral. "No."

Without hesitation, she flicked the cigarette out of my hand. It had been far too long since I last interacted with her, and now I wished it would've remained that way. That last cigarette, a remnant from a pack I had purchased at the airport, held a significance that transcended its ordinary nature. It symbolised the change the contract had forced on me, a reminder of the struggles I faced. In moments when I felt nothing or everything, it had become my drug—an anchor to keep me grounded in a tumultuous reality I felt ill-equipped to navigate. It was silly for it to feel important, but I couldn't hold on to anything else.

"Seriously? What is your problem?" My intense gaze searched hers, looking for that sense of familiarity in her stare. This time, however, it wasn't just the trivial anger mixed with misunderstandings and pointless resentment. It had transformed into something I wasn't ready to acknowledge yet or define.

I open the car door, pushing past Anne who stood impossibly close to the car window, "I need some space."

Without uttering another word and feeling Anne's piercing gaze on my back, I made my way to the hotel reception, determined to find a nearby vape store that I had sworn I had seen before.

Fortunately, it didn't take long to find it. While vaping wasn't typically my preference, it provided the grounding effect I needed to maintain my composure and avoid erupting in frustration once more.

Lately, nothing had managed to irritate me quite like Anne did, and the realization that she had that ability over me only stoked the flames of my frustration. Each encounter with her felt like a storm brewing, charging the air with tension and leaving me seething with unexpressed annoyance. This had only pissed me off more.

Facing the hotel bathroom mirror, the blueberry tang jabbed my throat, turning it dry, but the satisfying release of weight on my chest and shoulders demanded more. The idea to just completely ditch Sean and Anne, to just lose myself for a day was especially appealing. If it meant I wouldn't have to see Anne at all, I would be happy.

As the door to the public bathroom swung open, a relaxed hand effortlessly grasped the knob, pushing it forward with a subtle grace. The dark red nails spoke volumes about her quiet and loud demeanour—a striking symbol of someone whose energy reveals deep, unvoiced truths if only you take a moment to notice. My gaze travelled slowly up her arm, finally resting on her dark, almost black eyes. Their familiarity punched, leaving me momentarily breathless. While I knew I could try to acclimate to them, I couldn't deny the undeniable beauty it held.

She was the last person I wanted to see, but a part of me protested otherwise. One part despised the passive aggressiveness of her words, the glances laced with judgement, differing from the rest of the world's. Her opinion of me, yet far from similar to others, was still not exactly flattering. The other part craved the gentle curves of her fitted dress, leaving me undone in ways I hated admitting. Her demanding presence, faltering just a bit at every glance we shared, the feeling that there was more to her than just a bossy 'know it all'—it was addicting.

"I knew I'd find you here." A soft, sultry voice broke the silence after an oddly ordinary pause, though I can't quite call it normal yet.

I watched as her eyes followed the vape in my hand, leaning onto the sink. "What now, Anne?" My body turned to hers, stance firm yet calm.

Hathaway furrowed her brows in a blink; you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't already studying her movements. "I'm not sorry," she said, her tone deadpan.

"For what?" My eyebrow is raised—perplexed and curious, not just at her words, but also at the fact that Anne hadn't tried to stop me when I lifted my hand for another hit. "For slapping you, flicking your cigarette..."

A small, quiet laugh escaped the smirk from my face, the smoke seeping through it. This is why she went looking for me? To tell me she wasn't sorry?

"Apology not accepted." I give her an expectant look, 'Is that what you wanted?', my smirk still evident.

Anne rolled her eyes. Even though the lingering tension still made its presence felt in the suddenly cramped bathroom, it didn't seem like we had just argued. It felt more like banter than the usual, harsh insults. A churn was building in my stomach—I didn't hate this feeling, though I hated that I was enjoying it. Watching Anne appear somewhat content, with the resentment lost somewhere in her eyes as she followed me to the bathroom, I couldn't hate it.

Anne seems confused, again, with how I was watching her, but she visibly shakes her thoughts aside. "I won't bother you," She pauses, "so long as you keep your... habits to yourself." She gives an uncomfortable nod at my hand, and I glance down at my vape.

I smirk, "No promises."

Her expression was blank, but I could tell deep down that she wasn't as resentful as she seemed. Whether it was the bitterness I felt, the scenarios playing out in my mind where I had the upper hand, or her cold remarks, something was entertaining about seeing who would back down first—or who would crumble under pressure. I looked at her, unashamedly tapping my fingers on the sink. This time, Anne didn't back down, her face still impassive, but I could see right through her facade.

She turns away, seemingly intent on leaving me in silence, but then pauses just before reaching the door. Without turning around, she lowers her voice as If she'd hoped I wouldn't hear, "You're early."