The F It List - Alexis Winter Page 0,2

lost interest in trying to look good, but now I have some motivation . . . I want to look good to make myself feel better. I find a nice pair of high-waisted black slacks that always make me feel tall and put-together and pair it with a light pink blouse with lace sleeves. I find my favorite pair of nude heels and toss them on the floor next to my bed.

I take my time blowing out my hair and adding a few waves with my curling iron. I put on a full face of makeup, something I used to enjoy doing but have not wanted to bother with lately since I’d just cry it off.

With my appearance better than it has been these last few weeks, I shut off the light and head back to the kitchen. I open the fridge and root around, opening a yogurt and sniffing it before gagging and tossing it on the counter. I find a stale bagel that’s about as hard as a rock and tap it against the refrigerator shelf. Ugh.

I shut the door and lean against it, sipping the rest of my coffee before glancing at the microwave clock. I still have plenty of time to kill before I have to be at the office, and I don’t want to be the first person there for the fifth time this week. It’ll make me look too desperate—like I’m focusing too much on work as a way to forget my heartbreak. But I refuse to be heartbroken any longer. A guy like Jimmy doesn’t deserve it . . . just like he doesn’t deserve me. Good riddance.

I pull up to Mayhale Medical Manufacturing at 7:50 a.m. and park in my assigned spot. As far as parking spots go, I’m not important enough to park up front, but I’m not in the back 40 either. I’ve been lucky enough to get a spot in the sixth row thanks to my accounting position. I grab my purse and start making the journey to the door.

My job was another thing Jimmy didn’t like. He said that accounting is a boring job for boring people who don’t have one interesting thing about them. One time, his exact words were, “Being an accountant is the equivalent of watching paint dry. It’s as if the color beige were a human.”

He tried talking me into quitting many times over the two years we were together. I’ve never been so glad that I kept my job and went against his wishes. Where would I be now? Alone and jobless? I can’t even bear the thought of that.

When I enter the building, I say “good morning” to many of my coworkers—trying my best to plaster on a genuine smile, knowing that they’re still pitying me. I want them to see that I’m fine. Better than ever, in fact.

I stop in my office and put down my things. I turn on my phone and computer and go in search of a cup of coffee. I walk into the break room and find it empty. There’s a big table with a pink box in the center. I lift the lid and the scent of fried dough and sugar hits my nose, causing my stomach to audibly grumble. “Yes! Donuts!” I see a note next to the box with the word Enjoy!

The coffee hasn’t been brewed yet, so I make quick work of making a pot. I’m a not really fully functioning until I’ve had at least two cups kind of gal. The office rule around here is if you finish the pot, you have to make a new one. And the first person who wants coffee has to make it. I pour some creamer and sage in my mug as I wait for it to brew, then decide on a donut. I grab a paper towel and pick up a plain glazed donut off the top. I replace the lid just as the door to the break room opens. I look up to find Grayson walking in with a smirk.

“Cool, you brought donuts for everyone?”

I shake my head. “No, it wasn’t me. They were here when I came in. But it says enjoy so . . .” I shrug one shoulder as I take a bite of the donut.

He laughs and grabs one out of the box too. I watch as he takes his first bite. The sweet donut causes him to let out a small moan and his eyes flutter closed. His