After returning home I don’t feel like putting up with Julie so I go straight to my room, shutting and locking the door behind me. I can hear Julie speaking animatedly to a friend of hers on the phone. She acts nothing like she does while around me. My hands clench tightly at my sides because of it for a moment before I shake my head and remind myself that I don’t want to ruin my mood. I had a good day and I want to end it well.

In order to do that, I call up Jenna to tell her about said day.

“That’s so great, Carter!” she exclaims happily after I’ve filled her in. “It sounds like you’re going to have a lot of nice colleagues, too, but it’s pretty hilarious that the one you called an asshole is your boss!”

Jenna laughs harder at having to say it out loud. My cheeks feel a bit warm because of it. Grumbling, I cross my legs on the bed, gripping my ankle with my hand while the other hand holds the phone up to my ear.

“It isn’t hilarious, it’s fucking awful,” I explain, but that only makes Jenna start to snort. “My first impression consisted of me insulting him. He’s my boss now, Jenna!”

Jenna is wheezing. Good, I hope she dies of oxygen deprivation.

“He said he isn’t going to judge me based on what happened, but I can’t help to feel like he is, know what I mean?” I ask while furiously running my fingers through my hair.

“Get him a mug that says World’s Best Boss.’”

“Bitch, take this seriously.”

“Okay, okay, geesh!” Jenna huffs, finally managing to breathe again. Damn, she didn’t die. Well, I can ask for such a gift for Christmas. “Don’t worry about it, Carter. If it bothered him that much he would have just fired you on the spot and went with someone else.”

I am about to argue against that, but there’s nothing. Nope, not a single thought runs through my mind to go against her words. I… suppose she’s right, and it irks me a bit that she is.

Grumbling, I end up agreeing with her. “I guess so.”

“Just think about how you grabbed one of the best internships you could possibly get. I bet you’ll have a job offer before you even graduate,” Jenna says softly proving that she is being serious with me. Good, I need it and I do appreciate it.

“You’re right, I know and I’m just worried about losing it.” Because if I do lose it then I feel like I’m setting myself up for failure. Sure, I’ll have the spring semester to grab another internship but obviously no one wants to get fired as an intern, that would look awful!

I wish my mind would give me a break. It always pushes me to my limit, which is sometimes a good thing but at the moment I’d love to have a breather.

I can practically hear Jenna rolling her eyes when she says, “Please, Carter, you’re so anal about everything that I am sure you’ll do great at your job.”

“I can’t take what you said seriously because you said anal.”

“Damn it, Carter, get your mind out of the gutter!”

“How can your mind not be in the gutter when you hear the word anal?” I begin to smirk after I hear Jenna growling. Ah, yes, annoying her makes me feel so good. Annoying anyone makes me feel good, that’s probably not a good thing but I rather not talk to a therapist about it. Some things don’t need fixed, right!

“I’m done with helping you for the evening. I have more important things to do,” Jenna says and hangs up without giving me a chance to reply. Wow, and I thought I was the bitchy friend of our trio. Jenna is not stealing my title.

Smiling, I sit my phone aside before plopping back onto my bed to stare up at the ceiling. My heart is racing a bit causing me to place my hand over my chest, twisting the fabric of my shirt between my fingertips.

Regardless of Zeke being my boss, I honestly am excited for this internship.

Thinking about what happened makes my fingers twitch. I get this urge to write about it, write about anything, honestly.

Looking over, I find my journal resting innocently on my bedside table. I reach for it, opening it to find the poor excuses for stories I have within. Regardless of the scribbles, reading them over makes me smile and I continue where the story left off, successfully filling yet another journal.

How many does that make now?

I glance to my bookshelf, which seems to be filled with them. I’ve lost count, yet no matter how many I write, it never changes. I simply sit them on the shelf to acquire dust because they’re never going to amount to anything.