HI EVERYONE YES THIS UPDATE TOOK ME THREE DAYS BUT IT HAS 1K WORDS SO YAY !!!

ALSO I'm going to start a comment quota every chapter,,, since it motivates me more :)))

10 comments and you guys get an update (for freaking sure) on Friday !!!! Along with the Texting update as well :D

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter !!! It's a bit weak but all first chapters are like that lol

All the love,

- grace

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"Wake up!" Paul yelled, shaking the groggy, blue-eyes boy awake. Or was trying to, anyways. "Ringo you git— wake up!"

"What time is it?" Ringo mumbled sleepily, pulling his pillow closer despite Paul practically ripping his sheets off.

"It's ten-fucking-thirty!"

"Fuck!" He shot up— swinging his legs off so fast he nearly hit Paul. He made a beeline to the kitchen, and the doe-eyed boy heard the clanging of bowls and ceramics. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?!"

"I was trying to!"

Ringo's hands scrambled through the cupboards, trying to find his cereal in the midst of Paul's healthy snacks. He muttered an "aha!" under his breathe, snatching the box of Frosties (a/n not sponsored I swear) and he flung the refrigerator door open.

"My boss is going to fucking kill me," He exasperated, shoving the cornflakes in his mouth.

"Yup," Paul casually replied as he took a sip of his tea. "I mean this is like, the fifth time this month. He's going to do more than murder you."

Ringo threw him a look. "Not helping Paul!" He grabbed a towel and made his way to the bathroom.

Paul rolled his eyes. "One... Two.... Three—"

A shriek came from the shower.

Paul snickered. "I forgot to tell you— I used all the hot water!"

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"This is like, the sixth time you came in late, Ritchie." Maureen commented. "I hear Mr. Harrison's totally  pissed."

Ringo didn't even bother correcting her (which, by the way, this was the fifth not the sixth) because he was currently shaking with fear. Fucking hell, he was lucky so far, since Mr. Harrison was horribly strict with "slackers". And Ringo was surprised that his junk wasn't stuffed in a box with a pink slip as he arrived at his cubicle.

"Well, well, if it isn't the weekly Latecomer," His co-worker (and everyone's favorite Dickhead) John quipped, a smirk playing his lips. "The boss wants to speak with you at quitting time."

"If I ever get fired," Ringo sighed. "Just remember that you're the person I hate the least in this office."

John placed his hands on his chest. "That was really touching, Starr."

Ringo fought the urge to roll his eyes and sat down on his squeaky, swirl chair and chewed on his lip. As he always did whenever he was facing times of trouble. He needed this job— with his turn being the one to pay the rent— and he didn't know what he would do if his boss truly was going to fire him.

Maybe... He could persuade him?

(A/N (͡ ͡° ͜ つ ͡͡°) okay okay i'm sorry)

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Ringo felt the elevator lurch up and his heart did the same.

Now, Ringo hasn't really met the man. All he knew from him was from the magazines, and other than that Mr. Harrison was mostly a mystery to the him.

A small ding! brought him out of his thoughts and Ringo stepped out. The floors and the walls were different from his district, all cold marble without a single speck or scratch on it lined with what seemed like gold. All of it screamed important and Ringo suddenly felt underdressed and two foot tall.

You'll be fine, Ringo. He thought, as he walked up to the double doors. He knocked on it, his rings glittering in the light as he did.

"Come in!"

He opened the door, biting his lip.

"Y-You um w-wanted to see me sir?" Ringo uttered, lips parting slightly in shock.

Mr. Harrison looked nothing like he thought.

He had a lit cigarette. The ones that sort of come in packs far fancier-looking than the cheap Camel ones. Ringo thought about the no-smoking rule, then he rememebered that he was the boss. The way he held it between his fingers, Ringo guessed he was more than used to cigarettes.

Second was how surprisingly young he looked. With those sharp cheekbones and those eyes, holy, he probably had dozens of women already after him. If he wasn't sporting that mustache of his, which made him look like he was in his early thirties, Ringo would probably think he was twenty-something. Maybe even younger than he was.

"Take a seat Mr. Starr– Starkey– which one would you prefer?"

And the last was how unbelievably attractive his accent was.

"I prefer Ringo, s-sir," Ringo's face heated up a bit when his dark eyes raked all over him.

Fuck, maybe he was underdressed. Compared to his Armani suit (which was probably more expensive than Ringo's whole existence) Ringo looked like a mere commoner under his Greek god demeanor.

"It has come to my attention that this is your, what? Fifth time turning up late this month?" Mr. Harrison asks, voice all cool and he walks over to him with a grace of a cat.

He bit his lip harder. "Yes sir but—"

"I don't tolerate tardiness, Ringo." He stated. He didn't sound angry, much to Ringo's relief. "But this behaviour of yours doesn't go unpunished."

Ringo shivered a bit at how dark his eyes were, and he must've noticed it. Because a sinful smirk formed in his lips, and— fuck, were those fangs?

"So it's either this, doll," Doll? "Either I fire you or..."

"O-Or what sir?" Ringo asked, suddenly feeling small(er) with Mr. Harrison standing over him.

The smirk grew wider. "Or I make you my private secretary. Of sorts."

"Wait—" Ringo furrowed his eyebrows. "What do you mean, 'of sorts', sir?" He did connotations with his fingers, the confused look in his face making him look as adorable as a puppy.

"You pretty much write whatever I say, that and—" He licked his lips, drawing Ringo's attention down to his much. "— and other things." And before the shorter could ask again he continued: "I'll talk about it tomorrow. And, yes, this is a promotion. Now get going before you miss the bus."

"I— T-Thank you sir," Ringo stood up and grabbed his coat (going on his toes a bit).

"Oh, and one last thing Ringo?"

He turned around, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Don't be late again, doll."

As if I will. "Yes sir." Ringo answered automatically. He gave him another look then went out towards the elevator he swore he heard something— something about being a good boy?

Ringo shook his head, pressing the ground button on the lift. He must've been imagining things.