Andrea is always in the right place at the right time.
She is never too early, and she certainly is never too late.
Maybe that is why she never sees anything she isn’t supposed to see.
It’s an early Tuesday morning – a perfect Tuesday morning, really, with blue skies and cold, crisp air. And this morning, as all other mornings past, Andy finds that she can’t wait to finish work, but this time so that she can spend sometime outside. Maybe she will take a walk in the park, and maybe she will even invite Emily to join her (and why would she do this?), seeing as how they’re becoming more friendly.
Her perfect day, however, is already being ruined.
The subway is crowded when she arrives – that’s nothing new, but this time there’s a young boy who insists on grabbing onto her coattails, and she can only hope that he doesn’t tear them off, because this very expensive coat is certainly not hers to destroy. But what’s even more distressing is that the boy won’t let go, so Andy ends up missing her stop and having to take the subway in the opposite direction to get to her destination.
It’s too rushed for her liking, and there were many other, smaller complications that arose later, though none of them are really worth mentioning.
Long story short? Andy is late to work.
Not too late, mind you – but late enough for overbearing achiever Emily to kick up a fuss, even though Miranda Priestly certainly isn’t there yet (that, Andy can guarantee). On the bright side, though, Andy hasn’t received any calls from Emily telling her that Miranda’s coming in and where in the bloody hell is she, or anything like that, so Andy figures she’s in the clear, at least for the moment.
Unless Emily herself is late.
It’s only then that Andy quickens her pace; it’s not good to have both of Miranda’s assistants running late, after all (and why would Emily be late?). She calls a greeting to the security guard as she makes her way into the building and up to the office, and by the time she gets there, she’s slightly out of breath and sure that her hair is less than presentable – but at least she’s here.
What’s strange, though, is that Emily isn’t.
And a quick look behind her into Miranda’s office tells her that Miranda isn’t here yet, either.
You win some and you lose some.
Or rather, you win… both.
Miranda usually would have been her twenty-five minutes ago, and Emily usually would have been here much earlier than that.
Andy is still waiting, and she is getting more and more concerned about the state of her hair by the minute. She used to not be the type who cared about something like what her hair looked like before working at Runway Magazine – but she does work here now, and after working here for a little while, it becomes impossible not to care. But she can’t just leave to check on the state of her hideous (she’s certain it’s hideous) hair because she has to man the phones, and Emily is nowhere to be found.
Where is Emily?
Andrea stands as Nigel comes in.
“Oh, thank God you’re here -” Andrea begins.
Nigel winces. “What happened to your hair?”
Andrea glares at him, “Look, I need you to stay here and answer the phone if someone calls.”
“And where are you going?”
“To fix my hair.”
Andy feels like she’s just walked into something very, very bad indeed.
Emily has a hand on Miranda’s – Miranda Priestly’s – waist (and why is her hand there?), and both of them are sort of leaned in and flushed and there is definite dishevelment on their parts, and suddenly Andy’s eyes meet Emily’s, and before anyone can react, Andy turns on her heel and gets the hell out of that bathroom.
Shit, shit, shit!
That’s it. They’re not going to be friends anymore.
She just wanted to fix her hair, and this is what she gets.
The semi-good thing? While Emily may have seen her, Miranda may not have.
Andy chances a glance at Emily, but Emily is busy on her computer.
Did she really see what she thought she saw?
No one – not Emily, and definitely not Miranda – has said anything yet.
Why does Emily always seem so busy when Andy actually needs to talk to her?
Emily puts down the phone after scheduling Miranda’s daughters’ … who-knows-what.
“Emily?” Andy tries.
Emily looks up, and Andy forgets what she meant to say.
Now Emily wants to talk.
An entire day of sort-of-but-not-really ignoring Andy, and she chooses now to break the silence. Perfect.
She herself hasn’t said much else to Emily all day – she’s tried, but… well… It hasn’t worked out very well. She’s also maintained a further distance from Miranda than she usually does. And to be perfectly honest, that’s the way she wants it to stay. She doesn’t particularly feel like making nice, especially with Emily, who is so obviously sucking up to Miranda and you know what?
Andy doesn’t care anymore.
Andy shouldn’t care, because she doesn’t want a life in stupid, boring fashion magazines.
Andy sighs again, “You know, I really don’t care what you believe, okay, Emily? I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you were going to say.”
“And you know what else I’m saying? I’m saying, French-kissing the editor may help you right now, but it’s not going to get you very fa-”
And then Emily’s hands are over Andy’s lips (and why are Emily’s hands over Andy’s lips?) and it’s getting very, very hot indeed.
“Not that it’s any of your business, of course,” Emily said haughtily, “but I was not French-kissing Miranda Priestly. She almost slipped, and she nearly killed me while slipping, I’ll have you know. Besides-”
Is it just Andy or did Emily’s voice just drop a notch or two?
Emily’s voice now a low whisper – albeit a very sexy, seductive whisper – she continues, “-if I were French-kissing anyone, well.” She gives Andy an appraising look (and why is Andy’s heartbeat quickening?) “Let’s just say it wouldn’t be Miranda Priestly.”
Andy is standing outside the Elias-Clark building, and she finds herself calling out to the retreating Emily (and why is she doing this, exactly?), “Emily! Who would it be?”
Emily turns to regard her critically, and suddenly Andy feels like a child again, “Excuse me?”
“If you could French-kiss anyone, who would it be?”
And Andy knows she’s going to regret the question later, but she has to know for sure.
Emily looks at her like she’s stupid, and for a minute Andy doesn’t think she’s going to get an answer.
“You, silly.” A pause. “Do you need to have everything spelled out for you? It would be you.”
Andy finds herself seated next to Emily at a bar, and they’re having drinks.
Andy must have said something funny, because Emily is laughing and touching her on the arm.
Andy quite likes this.
She thinks that maybe they should do this more.
Andrea was late, but just that once.
If she had known that she would’ve been with Emily as a result, she would’ve been late sooner.
But she’s glad she was late, just that once, all the same.