I'm new to this so advice is welcome. xx

"zzzzzzzz" is to denote a break in the story

no infringement intended.

APOV

A little bit of Ana's backstory

I work as an editor and writer at Shape & Style - a lifestyle, fashion, and fitness magazine based in Seattle. I started out as a junior editor / everyone's coffee bitch about a year ago after I graduated from UCLA. For the first couple months, I don't think I ever stopped working. But despite the constant errands I ran for senior writers and only being trusted to edit the simplest puff pieces, I was having a blast. I loved the fast-paced environment, the engaging atmosphere, and the city I now call home. I was so worried that Seattle would be a nightmare. I mean, I grew up in LA my entire life, so something like consistent rain (or just any type of weather honestly) was not something I was looking forward to. I worried that I'd become depressed, or that I'd go crazy not being able to just go for a walk somewhere for fear that the sky would open up and unleash its wrath on the city. And don't even get me started on driving! If it's raining in LA, you seriously reconsider what you have to do that day, just to avoid driving in the rain. But in Seattle, no one gives a shit about the road conditions! It doesn't even phase them! Thank god there's a bus stop a block from my apartment that drops off just outside of work.

Thankfully I found out that the rain doesn't actually bother me that much – aside from the driving in it part… I realized that Seattle was way better than I thought it would be. In some ways, it feels a lot like LA. I mean, there's probably more hipsters here than in LA actually, which is sometimes annoying, but it also means that there's always something to do and experience – art shows, weird pop-up restaurants, crazy fashion trends, tons of concerts, etc. It also feels more authentic than LA ever did, people actually care about you here, which was something of a foreign concept to me when I moved last year. However, Seattle's also much more expensive than LA. It's ridiculous how much they charge for rent in this city! Although I can't really be that upset about it because it's the reason I found some of my closest friends. If I had even a chance of living in the city, then I needed to find an apartment with multiple roommates – something I was not looking forward to. After scouring through every housing website and skeevy craigslist posting for something remotely decent, I found an apartment located smack dab in the middle of downtown. The roommates seemed nice when I met them online and via webchat but I was obviously worried they would be secret serial killers. When I first moved in, they were pretty quiet and I was convinced they hated me, but I found out they just didn't want to show their weird side too quickly and scare me off. One year later and I can't tell you how lucky I am to have found my roommates. They're my second family and I wouldn't have survived this year without all three of them.

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I've just gotten home from a long ass day at work and all I can think about is taking off my work clothes as quickly as possible and changing into something that doesn't suffocate me in every way imaginable. I flop down on my couch and groan like a frustrated child, not caring in the slightest if I'm being immature. Today was so incredibly long and I'm dreading the rest of the week, which is bad considering that it's only Tuesday. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love love love my job, but this week is complete hell and no one at the office would argue with me about that.

The sound of the door unlocking drags me out of my thoughts and I look up just in time to see one of my roommates, Jeff, walking in with the mail. He sets the it down on the counter, grabs two beers from the fridge, and hands me one as he plops down on the couch beside me.

"How was day two of hell week?" he asks as he takes a swig of his favorite pale ale. I let out another childish groan and try to decide whether I should be an adult about this week or if I should complain. I go for option 1.

"It's fine, honestly. I'm just not used to the stifling atmosphere and the tension in the office. Everyone is so dead set on making sure that nothing appears wrong or less than perfect, when in reality, that's the whole reason for this happening – because we needed the help." I sigh as I sip my beer and Jeff nods, turning on Netflix to our favorite show, The Office. I don't even know how many times we've seen every episode, but it never seems to get boring, it just gets funnier and funnier with each re-watch.

We sit drinking our beers, watching TV, and just decompressing. I can feel Jeff's eyes on me every few moments, the tension practically pouring out of him. I might not have known Jeff for long, but I've always been able to read him pretty well. I have a weird skill for reading hard-to-read people, probably because I'm not an open book either, and Jeff's sending off some seriously nervous vibes. I know what he wants to ask me.

"Alright Harper, spit it out. It is venting dinner after all," I sigh. All of us roommates have a pact that we don't bring home drama or work bullshit if we can help it, because it stresses everyone out and rarely solves anything. Instead, ever week or so, we all have a roommate dinner with plenty of drinks and go around the table venting everything and stuffing our faces with delicious food. It's cathartic and keeps the air clear and free of hostility.

"Well, it's not dinner yet… And I don't want to be a dick or make you more worried than you might already be but, what's your job security like right now?" he says, looking down at his beer as he starts fiddling with the wrapper. "Have you looked around for other writing jobs in the area in case the big dogs upstairs decide to axe the newer employees?" He looks up at me finally, and immediately envelops me in a hug because I bet the look on my face says I need one.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like I didn't think being let go wasn't a possibility, it's just that I love where I work, and I don't want to start all over again somewhere else that doesn't feel the same as S&S. While the magazine has its issues, I love the atmosphere (when it's not hell week and everyone is acting like a robot) and the message. The magazine is all about celebrating everyone's unique shape and style, not just what's currently on trend. We even do some travel pieces once in a while, though I'd like us to do more so I could throw my hat in the ring for some cool working vacations…

"I've talked to a few friends in the publishing world about possible career changes down the road, just to get a feel for what's out there, and I've gotten really positive feedback from some publishing houses and from the Seattle satellite offices for Vogue and InStyle, but I really don't want it to come to that," I vent as Jeff hugs me tighter. I can smell essential oils on his skin and clothes from his work and it calms me down enough to release him.

"I'm kind of freaked about this whole thing and everyone acting so skittish at work is driving me insane! Marcy has been kissing ass like it's her day job," I huff. Jeff makes a face, he's never liked Marcy. "And I keep thinking, 'surely the higher ups at this big fancy company can see through her obvious bullshit' but what if they think it's sincere? She's a good liar and everyone knows she's had it out for me since I started. If they turn to her for staffing advice, I don't stand a chance!"

"Turn to who for staffing advice?" Belinda asks as she walks through the front door, setting a few grocery bags on the kitchen counter and then coming over to sit on Jeff's lap. When I first moved in here, I was worried about living with a couple, I mean, what if they fought a lot? Or had insanely loud sex every night? What if they broke up and divided the apartment and made us choose sides? Fortunately, Belinda and Jeff are some of the kindest and most caring people I've ever known, and while they fight occasionally, they rarely raise their voices or make a fuss. But thank god we have thick walls because the loud sex is definitely a thing, though they usually try to keep it down if other people are in the apartment. Usually.

"Ana's worried that the company taking over S&S won't realize Marcy's full of shit and will ask for her input when making staffing decisions," Jeff says as he gets up to throw away our beers. Belinda rolls her eyes – she met Marcy once for five minutes while visiting me at work and instantly hated her. And Belinda doesn't hate anyone.

"She is such a little snake, I bet she'll try to get you fired, but no way is it gonna work. She's just jealous because you're better than her and it pisses her off. I mean, her seniority can only stretch so far until that new company sees her for the worthless writer she is," Belinda huffs as she walks into her and Jeff's room.

"And don't you dare go thinking that if you had just kept your mouth shut that this would all be different Anastasia! You are a wonderful writer and editor and I can't have you thinking you're anything short of amazing. S&S values your opinions! That's exactly why they promoted you so quickly – because you're a valued employee. So Marcy can shove it." She yells from the other room as she changes out of her work clothes.

"Who can shove it?" Sebastian asks as he walks through the door with two bottles of wine in each hand. Sebastian "Stanny" Bates moved in a few months before I did – we instantly connected and he's one of the best friends I could ever ask for.

"Marcy Germain, evil bitch extraordinaire," Belinda says as she takes the bottles from Stanny and starts pouring generous glasses for each of us.

"Goddamn right she can shove it! Bitch called me cute when she met me. I may be a queen but I'm not fucking cute," Stanny grimaces as he takes a healthy swig of wine. He hates being called cute almost as much as he hates cats. "Sweetie, I wanna hear all about the drama, but I stink to high heavens so let's push pause for 30 minutes while I shower," he air kisses me as he walks into the bathroom, wine glass in hand.

It's moments like these that remind me of how thankful I am to have these people in my life. Supportive, loyal, and understanding friends are few and far between as you grow older. I smile at my friends as we all relax and make dinner. As I'm attempting to teach Belinda and Jeff how to chop bell peppers, we chat about our days and what we might want to do this weekend if it's not raining – I've been dying to find some more hiking spots around Seattle – lord knows I'll need some stress relief after this week.

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"Hot damn, it smells fucking fantastic in here!" a booming voice echoes throughout the apartment as Jeff pulls the vegetables out of the oven. We all laugh at our unofficial 5th roommate as he walks in the door with his work bag slung over his shoulder and a bottle of wine in his hand.

"Grey! You've emerged," Belinda smirks as she takes the wine from his hand and kisses his cheek. "Where have you been this week? If it weren't for your workouts with Stanny, I would've thought you'd fallen off the face of the earth!"

"Big screw up with a build is all. It's for those project houses down by the freeway and I just couldn't let it go into anyone else's hands. Too close to home I guess. I just needed to see it through. Too many people depending on that low rent complex to just let it sit and wait for city council to fix it," he shrugs as he helps himself to a piece of asparagus. Elliot's been a part of the group for less time than I have, but he already feels like family. He runs his own construction company and hired Belinda's interior design firm to work on some of the more-high rent buildings. They hit it off and before we knew it, he was spending more of his time here than at his actual apartment. He's got a toothbrush here and everything.

"Well we're glad to see you back in the land of the living Elly," I say as I hand him a glass of wine.

"You know Banana, you're the only one who can call me that without getting smacked," he smirks at me.

"Because we both know who'd win that fight," I throw back and Elliot nods in agreement. My dad, Ray, is an army vet and has taught self-defense for years. I could take Elliot out in a second and he knows it.

Once we've all settled in and plated up the food, Belinda raises her glass, "A toast, as always, to the commencement of Venting Dinner! May your bitching be heard!" We all raise our glasses in agreement.

"Alright so I started last time," notes Jeff, "so, Elliot, it's your turn to begin."

Elliot takes us through a more detailed version of the issues he's had with his latest housing project and it sounds frustrating. There's not enough low income livable apartments in the city near public transportation so he has been lobbying the city to add a few new bus routes to the areas he's developing but there's so much red tape that it's driving him insane. He says he finally called in a couple favors and now he's making some headway.

"Which brings me to my next topic of the night, my family," Elliot says with a flourish. He mentions his family often, but they're usually spoken about in a positive light so it's odd for him to be bringing them up now. "Specifically, my sister," he takes a large swig of wine and continues. "Mia seriously needs to grow up. I'm honestly a bit concerned for her. She's got such a good heart but her brain's all clouded by her entitlement. She doesn't act like a spoiled brat, but she just doesn't seem to think there are any real consequences to her actions! She spent all that time in Paris studying that pastry crap and now she's decided she wants to study fashion at FDIM instead! What the hell! Does she think that that fancy ass pastry school was free? Does she not care? She keeps on saying that she's too creative to follow the regimented system of pastry but she should've decided that a year ago! It's just so fucking frustrating. And she won't take me seriously when I tell her she needs to get it together."

"That girl needs some disciplined routine ASAP," Stanny says as he takes a bite of his steak, chewing contemplatively. "Oh my god! You should send her to me! I'm such a bitch! I'll run that flighty attitude right out of her! Oh please oh please oh please! I was made for teaching people how to become better through fitness. It'll work, I swear on Prince's grave!" He all but squeals.

"Actually, that just might work Stan," Elliot says, rubbing his chin. "I'll run it by Christian and we'll figure out how to get her to agree."

"Why do you have to run it by your brother?" Jeff asks.

Elliot sighs, "Because the big dumb idiot has his own ideas on how to get Mia to stop jumping around so much. He funds most of her shit and he says he's gonna just cut her off financially until she shapes up. It's like he's never met Mia or something. No way in hell would that work. She'd throw a fit and then lay those puppy dog eyes on him and he'd cave in a heartbeat. I'm thinking he should just threaten cutting her off if she doesn't agree to work with Stan." Elliot doesn't talk about his brother much. He says it's because his brother is really private so he doesn't tell Elliot a lot but I'm thinking it's more that Elliot rarely sees him so he doesn't actually know what he's doing most of the time. I'd kill for siblings though, even ones that hardly talk to me.

Elliot turns to me and raises his glass, "Alright Banana, I pass the venting torch to you."

"Ugh, I don't even know where to begin. On one hand, I'm really glad that S&S got bought out so we can stay afloat. The magazine deserves to be saved, even if the topics aren't something I really want to write about. But on the other hand, this probationary period has only just started and it's already driving me crazy! Everyone is acting like a freaking stepford wife! Pretending everything is fine and dandy when we all know that we're drowning. If the magazine was doing so well, why the hell would we have needed a buyout?! People just seem to be sticking their heads in the sand and not taking responsibility for their mistakes. They're acting like this new company will just come in and fix everything without asking why things needed fixing in the first place," I take a breath and a healthy sip of wine before continuing, god this feels so good to just let it all out. I love Venting Dinner.

"And Marcy is just breathing down my neck right now because she doesn't see me as a coworker with genuinely good copy to contribute, she just sees me as her competition! But I'm not trying to compete with her! The big wigs come in tomorrow and I'm so nervous that they're gonna round up all the senior staff and ask for recommendations on who to keep and I'm gonna get the sack all because I called Marcy out on fucking plagiarizing an article when I first started! It's not my fault she decided to copy someone else's work! I'm the better writer! I'm the better editor! But it won't matter at all, because she has goddamn seniority." I huff and sit back in my chair, draining my wine glass and reaching for the bottle.

"What's the company that bought out Shape & Style?" Elliot asks as he and Belinda start clearing plates.

"Honestly, I forget. Marcy mentioned it once but she wasn't supposed to since we're still in the probationary period. I didn't recognize the name though. Wasn't any publishing company I've ever heard of. Lisa, our editor in chief, let it slip that they're real new to publishing but surely I would've heard about them. I guess I'll find out tomorrow when the head honchos come in. I think it started with a G, but it was an acronym so I don't really remember."

With that, I pass the venting torch to Stanny and tuck into the german chocolate cake Jeff bought from the bakery down the street this morning, forgetting momentarily about my troubles as I listen to Stanny gripe about a new client and get lost in the bliss of delicious chocolate.

We continue the process until everyone has had their turn to vent about whatever's been bothering them and at the end, we all feel relieved and relaxed. Sometimes, you just need to let it out to really let it go.

That night, I crawl into bed, my head swimming with nerves about tomorrow and I fall into a fitful sleep, wondering and worried about what tomorrow will bring.