She shrugs me off, but then her brows suddenly knit as she notes my outfit. “You look nice. What the hell happened? Usually, you look like a hot mess.”

My smile is as shimmery as a rainbow. Not even Miss F’s crankiness, or the fact that I can kind of see through the sheet she’s wearing, can ruin my awesome morning.

“I woke up early.” I do a little twirl and curtsy. “It’s amazing what a little extra time can do.”

She snorts a condescending laugh as she backs up toward her apartment door. “You didn’t wake up early. I heard your alarm go off this morning. These stupid walls are paper-thin. I’m getting so damn sick and tired of hearing everyone’s drama. It’s giving me migraines.”

And vice versa. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve heard what she refers to as her gentlemen acquaintances making very un-gentlemen-like noises.

“Um, yes, I did. I just didn’t hit the snooze button a thousand times.” I slip the handle of my bag over my shoulder and turn to leave for work. “See ya later, Miss F. And tell your friend from last night that he has some really impressive endurance for his age.”

“There was a power outage in the building last night,” she calls out as I reach for the exit door. “I’m guessing your clock probably reset. It’s already after ten.”

My eyes snap wide as I whip out my phone and check the time. Shit. I was so caught up in my good morning I hadn’t paid attention to the time since I woke up. Dammit! No wonder I had such an easy time waking up. I’m over an hour late!

I bolt out the door, sending my boss a text that I’m going to be late. The second I step foot outside, I immediately get soaked by the rain. I curse the heavens as I run like a fleeing unicorn and dive inside my car, soaking wet. So much for my great hair day.

I shudder at my reflection in the mirror. I look like a wet, crazed-out cat, but I don’t have time to go back inside and change. I’m already on thin ice at work over my issue with being what I like to call fashionably tardy, although my boss doesn’t agree with my sparkling terminology.

“You’re a great assistant,” she told me last week, “but you’re also unreliable. If you don’t start being more punctual, I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go and give the job to someone who will appreciate the opportunity more.”

I love my job, so of course I assured her I’d never be late again, even though I knew I was being a huge, fat liar-liar, pants on fire, since half the damn time I’m late because of insane, out-of-my-hands events like what happened today. I haven’t been late since we had the talk, though, except for now.

Maybe my boss was right. Maybe I don’t appreciate the job.

“No, I do,” I tell myself. “I’ll just tell her about the power outage, that it wasn’t my fault.”

She’ll understand.

Relief washes over me, and I quickly pull the car door shut. I’ve had the same car since I turned sixteen, and even then, it was a junker. I have to slam the door three times and flip the lock twice before the door stays closed. Honestly, I love all its quirks. It gives it character. Plus, we’ve been through a lot, and it has never let me down.

But when I shove the keys into the ignition and pump the gas pedal five times before starting up the engine, all it does is make a noise like a screeching banshee.

“No, please don’t do this to me today, baby. Come on,” I plead as I try to restart the engine.

After five failed attempts, I give up, snatch my umbrella from the backseat, and run to the bus stop a few blocks down, telling myself that I’ll get my morning back on track. I just need to make it to work.

But my perfect morning rapidly goes down the rain gutter.

First, my umbrella gets ripped from my hand as I’m opening it. I forgot my wallet, so I have to dig my last two dollars in change out of the bottom of my purse to pay the bus fare. The large man sitting beside me on the bus sneezes in my face, and I gag so hard I almost vomit. And he smells so overwhelmingly like peanut butter that I swear he’s showered in it. My suspicions are confirmed when he takes out his phone, and I catch a glimpse of his screensaver—a photo of him shaking his naked butt while dancing in a large vat of peanut butter in front of a cheering crowd. Insert second time I almost vomit this morning.

“Pretty cool, right?” he asks when he notices me staring at the photo of him.

“Um … Yeah … Sure …” My palms start to sweat as a beat of silence goes by. I feel this awkward need to break it, a lifelong personality trait of mine that can make my life a living hell sometimes and puts me in a ton of very uncomfortable, strange situations. “Who knew peanut butter would slide off skin like that? It’s so thick I thought it’d clump more.” Oh. My. God. Lexi. Just stop talking. Right now. “Was it the chunky or crunchy kind?” Face palm.

“I think chunky.” He stares at me like I’m the crazy person.

“Oh … That makes sense.” No. None of this makes sense. Like, why you’re still talking! “Do you do it a lot?”

“Every Friday night at Danny’s Bar.” A grin spreads across his face. “You know, if you’re interested, there’s a partners’ night on Saturdays.”

“Ummm …” Just tell him no. “Sure …”

He asks me for my number, but thankfully, I manage to get my head out of my ass and rattle off a fake number, which ends up being the best thing that happens to me for the rest of the day.

Chapter 2

The second I make it to work, my boss calls me into her office, and things go from bad to waking-up-in-a-ditch-naked-with-no-idea-what-happened worse.

“I just don’t think this is working, Lexi,” my boss says to me from across her desk. “You’ve been late so many times I’ve lost count.”

“I can do better.” I’m trying not to cry, but my eyes start to burn. “I just had one of those crazy mornings where everything that could go wrong did.”

“There’s only so many times that excuse can work,” she says. “I’m sorry, but I have to let you go.”

Do not cry and make this more awkward.

I’m terrified by the thought of searching for a job again. After graduating three years ago with a bachelor’s degree in General Studies and having no clue what I wanted to do with it, I floated through random jobs; waitressing, a secretary for a law firm, and my least favorite, selling clown supplies (who knew people that made a job out of being funny could be so intense about what kind of material fake noses are made of).

While I never planned to be a party planner’s assistant forever, I enjoyed what I did, the hours were flexible, and the pay was decent for what I’m used to.

“Thanks for the opportunity,” I squeak as I push up from the chair, cursing myself for messing up and losing yet another job.

She offers me a pity smile. “I wish this would’ve worked out. You’re great at your job and have such amazing, creative ideas, but you’re just too unreliable.”

I’m not sure what to say, so I hurry out of her office before I start bawling. I say a quick good-bye to the few people in the office I’m kind of close with then head to my desk to pack up my stuff, saving my good-bye to Max for last.

But, as I’m piling my framed photos and coffee mug into a box, he approaches my desk with a cautious look on his face.

“I just heard the news. I’m so sorry, Lexi.” He offers me a sympathetic smile. “It’s not going to be the same around here without you.”

“Yeah, I’m going to miss working with everyone.” Especially you, you ridiculously delicious piece of man candy. “Maybe we could still grab a bite to eat this weekend and hang out.” I smile at him, hoping he’ll get that by “grab a bite to eat and hang out,” I mean go out on a date and make-out at my apartment.

His dimpled, panty-dropping grin falters as he scratches the back of his neck. “I already made plans with Julia. She’s Dana’s new assistant, and I need to get her caught up on next week’s wedding.”