AFTER RECEIVING the twelfth look of utter confusion from passing co-workers at The Independent, I began to realize how completely stupid I must have looked. My hair thrown up in a claw clip in an attempt to hide how unruly it looked. I hadn't realized until I was already in the car that my shirt was on backwards, leaving me with no choice but to show up to work with it looking as such. I also held two coffees that grew colder the longer I waited outside the building.

I silently hoped my face did not show the complete panic and anxiety filling my chest, but also knew I my poker face needed some serious work done. On normal days, I was expected to be inside the building, at my desk, ready to work, at 9:00 AM sharp. No excuses. Typically, I abided by that and often made it to my extremely uncomfortable office chair with time to spare. However, on this day, I was still standing outside wondering how I could explain to my mentor why I was still not inside, despite it being 9:25.

I had spent the previous how I spent the majority of my nights, contemplating the previous days choices and chastising myself for saying dumb things when needed. I also seemed to always need it. I guess I stayed up late enough that I had slept right through my alarm.

This excuse didn't seem to be the greatest, though. 'Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night since I was overthinking every decision I made during the day. It will happen again' wouldn't save me from the disappointment from my mentor and the way my soul would crush from said disappointment.

"Come on Sabrina, stop delaying the inevitable," I thought out loud. After taking a deep breath, I climbed the steps and pushed open the front doors of The Independent.

I started my internship here a few months ago. They had recently started a mentorship program in an attempt to bring in new, fresh talent. I had applied mostly thinking I wouldn't get anything back, but I had been wrong. Not only had I gotten a spot, my mentor was the one man I had looked up throughout my entire journalistic career (and childhood), Trent Crimm.

However, on a good day, I thought Trent tolerated me. He seemed to have better things to be doing than dealing with a 24 year old just trying to figure out how this all works. Which was entirely fair. On bad days, and this day was a very, very bad day, I knew Trent probably did not like me and had no interest in mentoring me. This lateness would not be helping my case.

I walked into Trent's office, which was a room over from where mine and the few other interns desks were. He sat at his computer, tuned in to only the words he was writing. He probably had a good story, or at least something interesting. Or maybe when you were as good as Trent, you could make the most mundane event seem like a show stopping underdog Premier League title win.

I placed his coffee on his desk. "I am so sorry I'm late. I slept through my alarm and hit traffic on the way here..." I took a breath. "It will never happen again, I swear."

Trent glanced up at me and brought the coffee to his lips. After taking a sip, he made a face and I immediately felt my heart crash into my stomach. There was absolutely no way I had messed up something as simple as his coffee order.

"I don't care that you're late, Sabrina," Trent replied. He placed the coffee on the desk next to his computer. "I do care that my coffee is cold, though."

My shoulder relaxed at the thought that he actually couldn't give less of a shit about my arrival time to the office. I turned to walk out the door, but paused when I heard Trent clear his throat.

"You might want to fix your shirt," he said. "You're going to shadow me at the Richmond press conference today."

I squeezed my coffee tightly, nearly causing it to spill before I came back into myself. A million thoughts flashed through my head, including but limited to 'FUCKING FINALLY.'

Instead of shouting out praises to whoever watching over me had finally given me this chance, I said, "Wow. Uhm, thank you. So much. This is about the new manager, right? The American?"

Trent nodded and glanced back down at his computer. "We leave in an hour."

I smiled at him again and then turned out the door. I walked into the intern area next to his office. As soon as I arrived in, I allowed myself to celebrate.

"Yes!" I yelled as loud as I could and still be considered socially acceptable. "Thank-fucking-god!"

Next to me, my co-worker/best office friend, James Morris laughed. I startled at the sudden noise before recovering and sliding into my chair.

"You're awfully happy this morning," James commented. "I take it Trent didn't kill you for being late as I assume you thought he would?"

"Yes and yes." I spun myself around in the chair. The spinning was probably the only pro to my otherwise uncomfortable chair. I stopped the spinning by placing both my hands on my desk. "James, I'm shadowing him at a press conference. A real, professional, actual press conference. None of that babyish busy work. This is real, live journalism!"

"The Richmond conference?" He asked. I nodded and he continued, "Ohh, I heard they hired an American. What American knows absolutely anything about football?"

I shot him a look and he held his hands up in a defensive manner. "I'm not judging this guy until I hear how he plans to coach Richmond into winning an actual fucking trophy this year," I replied. "And you're just jealous I get to go to a press conference with an absolute icon like Trent Crimm, and you have to stay here and try to pitch Kathrine a trending video on the company TikTok."

James' mentor was Kathrine Barker, the head of The Independent's social medias. He spent most of his days pitching different ideas to give the paper a bigger audience through Twitter and TikTok. "At least I can do actual work with my mentor instead of doing busy work for her."

"You're not funny," I said. "And I have to go fix my shirt."

*Authors Note*
I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. Please leave any feed back in the comments! Have a great day 😊