°•

Crissle woke up with a start. Her curls were still fluffy and moisturized due to the pillow and she found herself sweating in Zayn's sheets. Her stomach cramped up, and she felt the need to pee.

She rolled off the bed -- because walking was overrated -- and went to the bathroom, her makeup was smeared on her eyes when she looked in the mirror.

"Ugh," she took out a toothbrush and put it under the cold tap water.

"What are you doing?" Zayn's groggy voice called from the bedroom. Crissle snorted, turning around and watching him from the doorway.

"Brushing my teeth," she said with a mouth full of toothpaste.

Zayn groaned at her midnight habit, stuffing her face in the pillow. "S'too early."

"You could always not wake up when I do," her voice came out weird because she was brushing her tongue, "ya know. Be your own person."

"It gets cold when you leave," he whined, turning over and blinking over at her. Crissle went back in the bathroom to spit, then added more toothpaste to her brush. "Brrrr."

"Hate you," she rolled her eyes, looking in the mirror. Her face was relatively smooth, a few freckles and slight blemishes, but still smooth.

"Hurry up."

"No. The fuck?"

Zayn groaned.

"Okay, gosh," she spit again and rinsed her mouth out. Crissle opened the bottle of mouthwash and took a swig. She stood in the doorway, where Zayn was still watching her, swishing the liquid around in her mouth. He rolled his eyes when she started jumping up and down, his shirt hanging loosely off her body. He laughed and turned his head.

"Donf trn awow frhm me," she laughed, the mouthwash starting to burn in her mouth. Zayn laughed again as she jogged around the room to ignore the burning sensation. Crissle liked to keep the mouthwash in for a long time. At least six minutes.

"Are you finished or are you done?"

Crissle snorted, and when she snorted, she also spit out the mouthwash. All over his carpeted floor. Her laugh was loud, causing Zayn to sit up and watch her hold her stomach.

"I said, are you finished--"

"Shut up, oh my God," she giggled and hummed, going back in the bathroom and getting a towel. She came back and rubbed the mouthwash out of the carpet. It wasn't a lot.

"Criss--"

"What?"

"You're bleeding."

"Huh?" she looked down at her legs to see no blood.

"In the bed, babe," he looked down at the sheets, "are you, ya know?"

"This is so embarrassing--"

"Baby, come on--"

"No! Oh my God, I'm just bleeding all over your nice stuff--"

"Crissle," Zayn got up and pulled the comforters away, "it's no big deal--"

"But--"

"Go wash up. I got it," he smiled warmly, "it's natural, babe. You're fine."

"Sure?" she asked, not looking at him. She miscounted her days -- which was not the first time she'd done this -- again, except this time, her boyfriend was here.

"Criss," Zayn walked up to her, his hands gripping her shoulders, "baby, periods are a part of being a woman, I'm sure. And as a guy, I'm supposed to be understanding. And I am. Now, chill the fuck out, go take a shower, and by the time you get back, it'll be like nothing happened."

He did this speech every month.

(For the past seven, at least.)

Zayn kissed her lips repeatedly until she giggled and turned away.

"Sorry."

"S'all good, babe."

°•

"Okay, and what does this do?"

"That's a copier," Crissle grumbled at the younger girl.

"Okay and what is--"

"Fax machine," she was so over this.

"Fax?"

"Yeah. It faxes stuff," Crissle rolled her eyes and walked away. Zayn was trying out new interns for his building and one of them involved being the assistant's assistant. What her boyfriend didn't know was that Crissle can do everything by herself, but having a little bitch at your every call had its perks.

"Liv, get me a iced mocha frappé please," Crissle interrupted the young girl with a smile, "and when you come back, I'll show you the design room."

Olivia Watson's brown eyes lit up, her short, curly hair moving with the motion. Her skin was very light and she was a little taller than Crissle. She despised it.

"Be right back!" she chirped, jogging to the elevator and waiting impatiently for the doors to open.

Crissle huffed, ignoring Andrea's giggles and entering Zayn's office without so much as a knock. He was talking and laughing with that Harry Styles guy, who she almost forgot about until he gave her that same smile he did when they first met.

"Zayn, there is only so much I can take from you," she started, "why do I have to get an intern, of all things?"

"It's part of being my personal assistant, Criss," he tried to hold in his laughter when Crissle downed his glass of scotched in one take. She wasn't a drinker, which had probably surprised them both. "You're basically permanent, so now, you get to have an assistant."

"But--"

"You're such a baby, Ms. Sinclair," Harry walked over to the drinks, putting a hand on Crissle's shoulder, "it's all--"

"Okay, first of all," she moved away from Harry, "I have boundaries. Don't touch me."

Harry laughed.

Crissle rolled her eyes and walked to the door.

"Babe, what is she doing?" Zayn asked before Crissle could open the door.

"Being...being a nuisance. She doesn't even know what a fax machine nor a copier--"

"You don't know what a fax machine is," he pointed out with a laugh.

She stomped her foot like a child. "That's not the point! She's--"

"Crissle, I have your frappé!" Olivia knocked on the door. Crissle huffed and opened the door. "I didn't know whether you wanted chocolate or peanut butter--"

"I hate peanut butter--"

"Exactly! Me too, man. So, I got chocolate," Olivia was way too happy about not getting paid for this job yet and Crissle wondered about her.

"Thanks," she took the beverage, "I guess I'll show you around more--"

"Ooh, yay!"

"Bye," Crissle muttered to the two men who were laughing at her face. She closed the door and walked with a very optimistic Olivia down to the fifth floor.

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I'm so annoyed right now you won't believe