UNFIT

Two months later!


I plunge into the swivel chair in this small room that has been serving as my office for the last two months. It is yet another tiresome but profitable day. The coffee shop is doing incredibly terrific so far, and I can say that there is absolutely nothing to worry about. The statistics for this month's report are terrific. My heart is pounding with joy.

Nonetheless, of late, I have found myself Lerinquishing on the interest in customer service, and all I do is just sit back in this office like a bitchy, lazy arse boss. I admire the upswing of this shop, and I can't rationalize the sensation whenever I see it bombarded with customers. It is a mind-boggling, inexplicable feeling, but I am starting to think that my profession is calling for me. I just can't bring myself to enjoy serving customers all day anymore. It was fun in the beginning, but along the way, I have grown out of it. Maybe Damian was right after all, like he has always been. I am not fit for this.

"Aren't you leaving yet?" Grace speaks, sauntering to my office with her backpack.


This one, huh? She has been of tremendous help, even more than I could have ever comprehended, except when the thought of that Jake guy flickers into her mind. She turns into something else when she is horny, and I fear for her desires. She becomes like a possessed person.

"Go ahead, Grace. I will stay a while longer," I say, wobbling my head on the back of the seat.


She takes a step closer. Even the employees are beginning to notice my change here. I just cannot fake it. "Are you okay, though? You have been like this for days. What's up?" She queries, standing across my small table.

"It is nothing, really. I am okay," I respond, trying to hide it, but I know I am failing. Even a dumb person can tell that there is something wrong with me.

"You know that is not true," she says firmly. 'You are not yourself. Talk to me, Ellie," she insists.

"I said I was okay, Grace, really. Just leave, okay? I will be fine."

"Okay. Why don't we go together? There is nothing you are doing anyway," she suggests, and I let out a frustrated sigh.

Cant she just leave me alone. She should be running to fuck her boyfriend and leave me deal with my issues alone.

"I said I was staying for a bit, Grace. See you tomorrow." I dismiss her and close my eyes to think. I don't care to even spare a glance at her, but I sense her turning on her heels and strolling out, albeit unwillingly.

Sometimes, I don't understand life. I thought I would literally be content with this. But I guess there are things that you really can't mask, no matter what. There are things that you just cannot force. Especially things born out of passion. This isn't my field, and that is precisely why I can't be exclusively content here despite my efforts to embrace it.

I don't scorn this, and I don't regret owning this shop either, but am just not fulfilled. I feel like a great part of me is missing here, or rather, I am not just myself while doing this. I made a vow, and I intend to keep it no matter what, and at the same time, I need to make an effort and do what my heart wants. What I am specialised in. I can't stay like this. I love happiness, and this is not part of my hapinness again.

I rise up to my feet, yank my purse, and stride out of the shop. I hail a cab outside, and after giving the direction to the driver, I settle inside.

I have been a workaholic for years but never multi-tasked. I have never seized two jobs at the same time, but I am daring to, hoping I will manage. Damian was right, after all. There are things that I just can't leave behind or toss aside, especially the things I still love, and my profession is one of those things. All hail to my father; he managed to make me fall in love with something that was not part of my profession.

"We are here, ma'am." the cab driver notifies me after a tedious forty-minute drive, and I get out after handing him my payment and murmuring a thank-you to him.

I fish out the key and unlock the gate, taking in the familiarity of the aura welcoming me in. I stroll in farther to the door, knock scantily on it and wait for the response from inside.

Tardily a minute later, the door flows open, and Damian racks in front of me, dribbling wet with nothing but a towel bandaged around his midriff, the gorgeous features of his body in an explicit exhibit. Talk of hot and wet! I have caught sight of him like this countless times, but every single time I find myself ogling him like it's the first. Today is no exception either. Not when something is beckoning at me under the tiny fabric on his waist.

"Come in," he mumbles when I show no signs of speaking. Not even greetings.

Ahem!

"Hi," I compel the word as I saunter in, clutching my purse between my hands and trying as best as I can not to even brush with this steaming hot sin showering me with sensual sensations.

"Hi," he hoarses, strolling behind me. "Are you okay?" He asks as I settle down on the sofa, him racking tall before me.

A call for sin. Those abs and the deep cleavage of his v-line are not good for my eyes. My, oh, my! I don't think I can resist the urge building in me with this alluring temptation before me. The torture is too much, and I know he knows that.

"I will go put something on," He smirked, strolling upstairs.