Work till your bones crack

Adelaide's P.O.V

Embarrassment engulfed me faster than the throbbing pain from the impact. Surely it must've hurt him too. After all, I did bump my stronger than ordinary skull into his shoulder. But, reality is always unexpected. That man's shoulder had bones thicker than that of a bull's feet and that's probably why my head pounded in pain but he wasn't even the least bit affected. In fact, he - for better context my boss, just casually continued to end his call before moving the phone away from his ear and caring for my sound mind.

"Is your head fine, Ms. Adelaide?" he questioned oh so concerning-ly.

Talk about increased embarrassment.

Slowly and cautiously, I stepped down from his shiny but now evidently dirty brown leather shoe, I nodded .

"As long as your foot is fine, there's no reason for my head not to be fine, Sir." -smiling on the outside, I internally cursed at my remark. He looked down at his shoe when I mentioned that, as though my body weight wasn't proof enough that he had been stepped on.

"Then I guess we can head directly to the office." he replied, as he headed towards the company car. I, of course, swiftly followed him and took the opportunity of letting this incident be hidden forever as nothing but a silly fall.

On the way back, we grabbed our to-go lunch boxes as we all went through the immediate concerns regarding the yacht, all the while munching on some sub rolls. We spent hours moving around for materials, correcting and changing designs and taking our clients' input. I surely had worked overtime a number of days after I joined, but gosh, did none of those days combined even compare to the hell I went through after the yacht inspection.

It took me a few skipped meals, countless visits to various sites and suppliers, two consecutive overnighters and Carson's nagging to realise what a tough job I dragged myself into. Our work,although, was completed thanks to that. The yacht was ready a day before the anniversary and we were now onboard with our client, Mr. Rogan himself. It seems to be that his wife is still unaware of the surprise he has in store for her and is upset with him.

I was showing around our client and his son the yacht, its facilities and the living area decor. While we were there, we also discussed a few key aspects of tomorrow. Once that was done, with a firm handshake and abundant anticipation, we bid each other goodbye.

Tomorrow being a big day for us, the team in charge of the yacht event was given a half day off by our most merciful boss, Mr. Dylan the almighty. Truly a wonder how he even thought of it, but that didn't matter. For all I needed right now was a refreshing bath and the warmth of my bed. Promptly,I headed to the cafe, greeted my lovely peers, grabbed a mixed berry smoothie to-go with a box of lemon tarts and nearly ran home. Everything was going well. I arrived at a clean home, free from any mess that needed to be worked on. I found my nightwear almost instantly and the temperature of the water couldn't have gotten any better. All that was left to do was eat and sleep. Just as I was about to do the only thing that mattered in my life, the doorbell annoyingly chimed in a familiar way.

I angrily opened it in a rush. "Do you not have work?" I remarked annoyingly, at the only man or rather … person, who shows up at my doorstep.

"At the moment, nope." - came Carson's reply as he swiftly entered my apartment while waving a bag of what looked like packed food to my face. He headed straight to the kitchen, removed the boxes and put them in the microwave. Being the busy body that he is, he automatically removed utensils from the cupboards and handed them over to me in a way of making me set up the island for early dinner. The tantalising scent of cheese and meat soon filled the room as the boxes revealed beautifully baked lasagna.

"My mother was concerned whether or not you're eating well." he chatted, as he pointed at the tarts.

I smiled hearing that, "That wasn't necessary,Benjie."

"Very evidently." he smirked back.

And just like that, over a fairly early but extremely fulfilling dinner, Carson and I were once again together, catching up on things that we missed, shows that we watched and how unfortunate he was to not have a drink all to himself. I thanked him for being the messenger of his mum's lovely cooking as we quickly moved onto cramming down dessert.

"Tomorrow's the event right? What time are you heading out?" -he questioned as we were about to start cleaning.

"Yes. We're boarding at twelve noon so, I'll have to leave by nine at max."

"Ah, don't forget to set your alarm." he chimed in.

"Yes, mum." I grumbled as we both laughed.

"By the way, when are you leaving for the shoot?"

"Oh, that! The actor's schedule seems to have caused a problem. We're rescheduling it but, sometime next week we should be heading out."

He shrugged.

"Must be hard being an assistant director." I teased, knowing that he hated this aspect of his job.

And with that, a round of bickering occurred and after refusing to join him for a walk, Carson left like a puppy deprived of walks.