The sun peaks through my curtains, shining onto my pale skin, making me feel dead. The audacity of its brightness soured my mood. I will never be a morning person.

I glare at the bright red 9:23 AM and sigh heavily. Two hours of sleep will have to do. I drag my corpse-like body through my room and bathroom, preparing for the day.

I swallow my anti-depressants and plaster on a smile, heading into the kitchen where my roommate stands, destroying our apartment.

"Good morning, Jor." I greet, grabbing a glass of water.

"Good morning, gorgeous!" She exclaimed, far too cheery for the time of the morning. I want to hibernate forever. "Big day!"

"Big day?" My tired eyes focus on her hands flipping the pancakes.

"Yes, you can have a pancake," she promises. I straighten. That obvious, eh? "And have you forgotten about your big interview?"

Ah, the interview. "It's not that big," I shrug, gulping down my anxiety along with the cold water.

"It is huge, Scar. You will kill it, and you will have a position at one of the best publishing companies in California. I believe in you." Her words only stressed me further. My stomach feels like someone is blowing hot air into it like a balloon, waiting for me to pop.

"Thank you," I say genuinely. "Without you, I wouldn't have this interview."

She waves her hand with a scoff, dismissing me. "You got this interview all on your own, baby." She hands me two large pancakes. They're rather deformed, but I choose not to say anything. Jordyn chose to think so could cook, so I chose to support that choice.

It is true, though. Without Jordyn's father and his connections, I wouldn't have an interview for an editorial position at a major publishing house. These opportunities don't happen for 21-year-old college seniors. I should be ecstatic, nervous even, but I felt nothing at all.

I finish my pancakes and engage in Jordyn's ranting about graduation. She doesn't understand why walking the stage is so important. I see past her angry rants. I know deep down she just wanted to avoid the reality of the situation- we are graduating.

We are adults, soon. Officially. None of my friends could really handle this thought yet. Today I have to. Today I am interviewing for the adult world. I can do this.

I decide on a white pantsuit that fit me like a surgical glove. I felt sexy, and my 5'7 height appeared taller with the confidence that the suit provides. The short black heels help, too.

I look good. No, I look amazing. That is the mindset I chose for today. I will be confident, and I will get this job.

I straighten my brunette waves and apply a light coat of makeup. I feel put together and ready to take on anything, but please world, be gentle with me. There is only so much a power suit can do for a girl.

I am terrified. I wish I could go back to a mere hour ago when I felt nothing.

I stare at myself in my mirror and swallow my fear.

You can do this, Scarlett.

Jordyn compliments me thousands of times as I walk out the door, but I can't think of anything to say. I am focused. I have my notes, and I keep repeating all the tips people have given me in the past couple of days.

Don't show signs of panic; they'll sniff that out right away.

Sit up straight. Don't stutter. Be mature.

Bring up your successes but be honest about your weaknesses.

Well, fuck. My head just might explode.

I don't even know how I got myself to this building, but the tall skyscraper made me want to be swallowed by the ground. The intimidating matte black building stands in front of me, daring me to turn away.

Thunder Bay Press, hopefully my new home. I want this job. I need this job. Who knows what my mentally ill brain will do if I can't secure a job before graduation.

I like plans. I need structure. Without it, I crumble.

You can make this your home, Scarlett.

I can do this.

I head to the front desk, checking in and receiving a visitor's pass, clipping it to my blazer.

I am lead by a kind petite young woman who tells me I have nothing to stress about. Sure, lady.

She takes me to who I assume is my interviewer. I stare at the closed door and pray that maybe it simply won't open. Maybe it leads to a happy universe with no stress and I can forget all about this reality. But no, unfortunately that's not how life works.

How can I possibly do this? I am a fraud. I have no experience. They are going to tear me apart. I don't even officially have my degree yet.

And then the door opens.

"Hello, Ms. Lee, is it?" She is older, blonde with wrinkles littering her pale skin. She looks kind, but I my brain assures me that she wants to destroy me.

"Yes, Ma'am. Nice to meet you." We shake hands, and I pray she can't feel the slight shake from my nerves.

"You as well, dear. Come on in," I sit across from her, a large wooden desk separating us. "Let's get this going, shall we?"

The interview doesn't last long, and I don't know if that is a good thing or not. Regardless, I have a second interview in exactly a week.

That is unusual right? Don't they usually call you after torturing you for a bit to tell you you've got a second interview? Not complaining, but still.

I take in the scary-looking building once more before driving off.

I killed that interview. Well, I did, didn't I? Suddenly, I can't remember a single thing from the twenty minutes we'd spoke.

The rest of the day is filled with school work. Attending my only class of the day and eliminating all the homework that will be due this weekend. I always feel relieved knowing I've prevented myself from worrying about homework on the weekend. Jordyn envied that.

Despite the crippling voices swirling inside my head, I'm able to function through my day as normal.

Jordyn makes us some random recipe her mother sent her, but my stomach is in knots. I have a second interview, but I don't know how my nerves will calm before then. I know a second interview must be a good thing, but my mind is still harping on the negatives of my day, and I wish those damn pills I swallow every day would work.

We eat together and discuss our days. Sometimes Jor and I feel like an old married couple.

The night creeps in, and Jordyn goes to see her boyfriend, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The apartment is quiet, but the silence is loud. I can't take it, so I leave.

I go to the only place I know will never disappoint- 25 Hours.

25 Hours is the only twenty-four-hour cafe in my vicinity, and it is my safe place. It is where all my thinking happens. It is where I've studied for the past four years, ensuring I graduate on time. I've spent so much time there; I could consider it a second home.

I don't sleep at night. Well, not how most people sleep. So I started coming here. I needed to leave my bed. Tossing and turning would get me nowhere, so why not embrace the night as I embrace the day? 25 Hours allows me to do that. To embrace the night.

As an insomniac, sometimes it feels like the night is all I have.

I order my usual medium black coffee and sit at the corner table closest to the rustic-looking fireplace. The whole place had a comforting cabin vibe to it. It always reminded me of a ski lodge, and for some reason, that became the most comforting setting.

Not many people were around at this time. It is eleven at night, so most people are tucking their kids into bed and setting their alarms for work. I am here, though, and I will be here for a while.

I've accepted I'm not like most people.

I pull out my small leather notebook, smelling the familiar musk of the material. I push on the nearly inkless pen, creating a list.

It was an idea I'd had a while ago. I'd create a list of tasks or activities to do when the rest of the city is asleep. Ways to embrace the night as I'd always wanted to.

I lean back in the wooden chair and let my hands run wildly across the paper, writing whatever fun adventures I could come up with. Some things I knew I'd never even do.

"Hey," a deep low voice said from in front of me, startling me.

A tall, handsome brunette stands before me, his domineering presence unnerving. "Um," I squeak. "Hi?"

God, Scar, how fucking awkward can you be?

He pulls out the chair and sits down, resting his coffee on the table and staring into my wide eyes. "What've you got there?"

Something told me he already knew. Like he'd read it before, I'd noticed his presence, and now he was trying to understand me. Men.

"A list," I said. He is beautiful. His bulky sweatshirt did nothing to cover his muscles, and his messy auburn curls complimented his dark facial features perfectly. He seemed perfect.

He isn't, though. I see the stress lines on his forehead and the cuts on his hand from some kind of work. I see that scar just above his cheekbone, but that makes his even more beautiful. His imperfections are enchanting. How is that fair?

He smirks at me. "A list, huh? What kind of list." Nothing he says really sounds like a question. He speaks with diction like he already knows the answer.

"A list of tasks, or activities, or- whatever, things to do at night," I ramble. Did that sentence even come out right? "Uh, It's lame."

"So every night, you cross something off this bucket list of yours?" He questions, his green eyes staring into mine.

"Well yeah, I guess." I look down, spinning the pen in circles on the bottom of the page, creating a large black circle.

"I'm in."

"Well, it's not really like a bucket list. I guess you could call it that, but it's more just a fun list of things that would utilize the night hours everyone forgets about, you know?" I ramble again, but I can't help it. Wait, what did he say? "Wait, what did you just say?"

His smirk was a smile now, one that gave him a dimple on his right side. "I said, I am in." The confidence in him is intoxicating. How does he do it?

"What do you mean you're in?" Am I dense or something? I don't even know this man. What if he's a Ted Bundy enthusiast?

"I mean," he drags, removing my journal from my hands and into his own. "I want to join. I don't sleep much, might as well put those wasted hours to use."

Am I dreaming? This kind of stuff doesn't just happen, right? I must be dreaming.

"Um," I couldn't really think of much to say. Jordyn always said I was too shy, but he is enchanting. So enchanting that his eyes feel dangerous to stare into. "Okay."

"Okay?" He asks, gently pulling my pen from my hand. "If I'm a total creep, feel free to kick me away. You're just," he pauses for a moment, staring into my eyes again. I look away. He's so intense. "Intriguing."

"Intriguing?" I ask, feeling light. I have to be dreaming, right?

You're not dreaming, Scarlett.

"Very."

"You're not going to go all serial killer on me, right?" I question, stopping myself from anxiously chewing on my nail.

He laughs, a gorgeous sound leaving his lips. "If I was, do you think I'd tell you?"

I shrug. "I dunno. I'm not a serial killer."

"I'm not either. I'm Zayn Miller. I spend my days fighting crime, not committing it."

My eyes widen, feeling awkward. "You're a cop?"

He laughs again, shaking his head. "No. I am a lawyer."

"Oh," I exhale, smiling. "I'm Scarlett Lee. I go to USC, fourth year."

"Is that why your fun takes place at dead hours of the night? Too busy during your days?" He questions.

I nod. "Not enough time." I sigh.

"Then we'd better get started, Scarlett."

---

thank you so much for reading! Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter and what you think of the characters so far. I'd also love to know who you picture them as. I see Scarlett as a young Chyler Leigh.

Please, if you don't mind, vote on this story- it helps a lot.

I will be updating at least once a week on Sundays. I may upload more depending on my schedule. So please, stick around; I promise this story will brighten your days. At least I hope it will.