Page 8 of Grumpy Orc CEO

I glance at my phone one last time before putting it away. Damn, I should have asked for her number.

“I guess I better hope that kiss wasn’t horrible.” I smile thinking about just how not horrible it was.

Determination sets in like steel within me. Lucy isn’t just another fleeting moment; she’s a spark in the mundane routine of my life. And I’m not about to let that spark fade away without seeing where it can lead.

As the plane continues its journey, my resolve strengthens. I need to make sure our paths cross again soon. There's something unexpected and electrifying about this connection with Lucy, and I have to find out what it could become. Whether it's by chance or design, I won't let this opportunity slip through my fingers.

CHAPTER 5

Lucy

Iarrive back at my new apartment, balancing the last of my boxes from my parents house on my hip. The weight tugs at my arm, but the sense of accomplishment keeps me going. Each step up the narrow staircase feels like progress, like I’m moving forward in more ways than one. The plan for today is to finish unpacking.

Pushing open the door with my shoulder, I step inside and let out a deep breath. I place the box on the floor and look around, imagining where everything will go.

I start with the kitchen. Unpacking my favorite mug and setting it on the counter feels like a ritual. The familiar feel of its handle grounds me. Next, I arrange plates and bowls in the cupboard, each clink echoing in the empty room.

Moving to the living room, I pull out a throw blanket from another box and drape it over the back of the couch. The soft fabric is a comforting contrast to the starkness of the unpacked boxes scattered around. A small table goes next to the couch, and I set a framed photo of my family on it. Their smiles remind me that I’m not alone on this journey.

My bedroom is last. The bed gets made with fresh sheets and a quilt that my grandmother gave me. It smells like home, and I can almost feel her arms around me as I smooth out the fabric.

Standing back, I survey each room. It’s starting to look less like an apartment and more like a home. There’s still work to be done, but every item in its new spot represents a fresh start. My heart swells with pride at how far I’ve come.

I collapse onto the couch, exhausted but content. The afternoon sun filters through the windows, casting a warm glow over everything. For a moment, I close my eyes and just breathe, letting myself soak in this feeling of independence.

This is my space now, and every corner holds a piece of my determination to rebuild my life on my own terms.

The apartment is starting to feel more like a home, bit by bit.

As I sit on the couch, I can’t help but let my mind wander back to that kiss with Jarvin. His intense amber eyes staring into mine, the surprising tenderness of his touch. It was brief but electrifying, and it’s been hard to shake off since.

I shake my head, focusing on the task at hand. No point in getting distracted now. There’s still plenty to do.

I dig into another box and pull out a piece of art that always inspires me—a vibrant abstract painting with bold colors and dynamic lines. It has this way of making me feel energized every time I look at it. I find the perfect spot for it above the couch and step back to admire how it changes the room's atmosphere.

With each item in its place, the apartment starts to take on a life of its own. It’s not just an empty shell anymore; it’s becoming a reflection of me. The photos and art add warmth and personality, making it clear that this is where I belong now.

I stack the last book and glance around the room again. It’s starting to feel right—like a space where I can truly be myself.

I sit at my small dining table, the wooden surface barely large enough to hold my laptop, a stack of resumes, and a mug of coffee that’s gone cold. The screen glows with job listings, each one a potential gateway to my future. I scroll through the options, scrutinizing every detail. I’ve already sent out a couple applications, but I’m determined to keep putting myself out there.

Writing cover letters is next. Each one needs to be tailored to the specific position I’m applying for. I pour my energy into crafting them, making sure they reflect my passion and qualifications without sounding generic.

Dear Hiring Manager…

I type, and then pause. What’s the best way to stand out? I think back to my past roles, pulling out achievements and experiences that might resonate with someone on the other side of the screen. My fingers fly over the keys as I put my thoughts into words.

Working in a fast-paced environment has taught me...

I stop again, erasing a few words that sound too cliché. “Yes I am a hard worker, but then again, isn’t everyone who’s trying to get hired?” I laugh to myself thinking not talking to oneself out loud should definitely be considered a hard skill.

The work is tedious, but necessary. Each cover letter needs to be perfect because it’s not just about getting any job; it’s about finding the right one that fits my skills and aspirations.

The room is quiet except for the occasional hum of traffic outside and the soft clicking of my keyboard. I feel a sense of purpose in this moment—like every word I type is a step toward reclaiming my independence.

Hours pass without me noticing. I take breaks only to stretch or refill my coffee mug, determined to get as many applications out as possible. The sun starts to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, but I don’t stop.

Back at the laptop, I click “Submit” on another application and lean back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. The work may be tedious, but it’s grounding me in this new reality. It’s giving me direction and something concrete to focus on.

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