Title: Breaking the Rules (1/1)
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Author: perfect_pride
Rating: PG-13
A/N: This is not my first fic, but it is my first Devil Wears Prada fic. I'm a little nervous about posting it but I decided to bite the bullet and just do it. It's based on a prompt that iamfree2 posted to the DWP community a couple of weeks agoke. Anyway I thought it'd be interesting to incorporate into a DWP fic because I can so easily see something similar happening at Runway.
For the purpose of the fic, the timeline of events has been adjusted. It is set before Paris, but Miranda and Stephen are already getting a divorce.
Andrea Sachs lived her life according to ten complicated and exhausting rules, imprinted in her memory and stuck to the bedroom wall. Ever since her employment at Runway, Andy had been forced to learn a numerous amount of information in order to keep her boss happy. The threat of humiliation, loss of her job and being blacklisted from every publication within New York meant that she learnt rapidly what was expected of her.
Nevertheless, she inevitably make several mistakes along the way; the most notable being the time when she dared to walk up the stairs within Miranda's home. Now that was an experience which she did not wish to repeat.
On a daily basis, she learnt yet more do's and don'ts from an often sarcastic Emily, who couldn't seem to understand why Andy was in a permanent state of shock over the tasks she was required to carry out. The curl of her upper lip and glare in her eyes would probably have terrified Andy if she had not already been on the receiving end of a Miranda look. Emily was like a fiercely loyal, protective Rottweiler for an owner who quite frankly, didn't deserve it. When she first began at Runway, Andy had considered it more than pathetic, and she doubted that Emily had anything else in her life to focus on other than Miranda Priestly.
But she didn't have a leg to stand on anymore. Nate had left her, her friends had stopped being her friends, and the last time she'd actually had a proper conversation with her parents was over a month ago. What free time she had was spent eating and sleeping, because Runway sure as hell didn't allow for either of those, and the only difference between herself and Emily was that she resented what the magazine had done to her life, whereas Emily embraced it.
Well, whatever floats her boast.
Andy didn't kid herself that this was what she wanted, but she did make fun of herself for putting up with Miranda for the sake of what she wanted. Emily could shove her loyalty where the sun didn't shine, because Andy had a list pinned next to her bed (the fridge would have been more original but she still couldn't bring herself to associate Miranda with food; it tended to kill her appetite) that she would casually glance over before she slept at night.
Not every rule could be added to the list; the entire wallpaper would be made of Miranda Rules otherwise. However, the most important were noted, and certain rules had been categorized together in order to make sure everything was at least included in a generalized way. For example, "Phone answered at all times" alluded to not only taking Miranda's call on her cell phone at 3am, but other important calls that were received in the office during the daytime.
The ten rules were a reminder of everything important about her job. They served as a constant reminder as to what was expected of her, and ultimately it probably did aid her in her work and help her to do a better job as Miranda's assistant. Now all she needed was a photo of Miranda's glare of disapproval every time a rule wasn't followed, and the list would become some sort of poster.
Genius.
*
It wasn't as if Andy tried to break the rules, she just managed to fairly easily. At best it earned her a glare from Miranda and at worst... well she spent hours running around looking for an unpublished manuscript. Good times.
It was two o'clock on a Friday afternoon when she managed to surpass the manuscript incident. She had just arrived back at Elias-Clarke from dropping off Prada outfits that were used in a photo shoot that morning, and she was dead on her feet. Miranda had been in a particularly foul mood from the moment she arrived at the office, glaring at Andy the moment she lay eyes on her; which Andy could only take to mean that Miranda absolutely hated her new Valentino skirt. She'd worn her Jimmy Choo shoes and the Versace shirt before so ithadto be the skirt; which was extremely annoying considering that she'd forked out for it from her own pitiful salary.
She entered the lift with several other people; two clackers included. They were whispering amongst themselves about a girl from the beauty department named Betsy whom Miranda had just taken it upon herself to fire. Andy wouldn't be surprised if the sole reason for this was the fact that her name was "distastefully southern" and didn't fit in with the image that Runway was trying to project. She took a moment to pray for the now jobless clacker, because she was certain that nobody else would even spare her a second thought once they had finished gossiping about her dismissal.
The lift came to a stop at the floor of Runway, and with a heavy heart, Andy exited. She dreaded the thought of what hideous task was required of her next. According to Miranda's schedule she was in the office at the moment, so it was almost certain that Andy was going to bear the brunt of her anger. She was a lucky one in a million, that was for sure. Sighing, the young woman tried to enjoy her last few seconds of freedom as she began the walk to her desk, when she spied Miranda a few feet ahead with a look of utter disdain worn upon her face. Whether this was work related, something to do with her impending divorce from Stephen, or just an average mood swing Andy wasn't aware, but she was sure she would soon find out from the grapevine if it was something major.
Unfortunately; disaster struck. Miranda tripped, seemingly over thin air, and there was nothing for her to grab in order to steady herself. She was standing alone in the middle of the vast open space of the foyer, and she fell forward, smacking her knees on the ground and sending the papers in her hand flying in all directions. The expression on her face twisted itself into a contortion of pain, though Miranda didn't allow herself to so much as wince. Apparently that renowned self-control of hers was present no matter what the circumstances.
The two clackers in front of Andy froze. They gasped, looked at each other and took off in the opposite direction, heading out of the nearest exit that just happened to be a fire escape. Evidently they didn't want to step over Miranda, but they didn't want to help her either; especially not if they were going to end up following Betsy into the unemployment queue. Andy couldn't help but roll her eyes at their behaviour. Ok, so Miranda had fallen, but was there really any need to be that melodramatic?
For a moment, Andy considered heading towards the fire exit too, knowing that it was the safest option. But then just ignoring Miranda was rude, and besides; what if she was really hurt? Andy couldn't just stand back and do nothing; it wasn't in her nature. Screw the rules, she was going to make sure that Miranda was ok.
"Miranda?" she said tentatively, walking towards the Editor and kneeling down before her. Miranda had managed to pull herself up from her crumpled position so that she was sat on the floor. "Are you hurt?"
Miranda remained silent and glared at her with pure venom, but Andy knew her well enough to realize that behind the poison there were other emotions. In this case most likely to be mortification at falling in a public place coupled with pain from the fall itself.
Feeling bold (and also thinking that if she was going to get fired she may as well go all out and mess up big time) Andy placed a hand on top of Miranda's and tried again. "You fell pretty hard... maybe we should get you checked over." Boldly, she used her other hand to pull up Miranda's Chanel skirt a couple of inches so that it was above her knees. She hadn't broken the skin so there was no blood, but they were already turning red which suggested that there was going to be some serious bruising. Staring down, Andy wondered what the hell she was supposed to do now. There was no blood for her to clean up and for some unknown reason her heart was beating faster than before. Either it was delayed nerves or she was about to go into cardiac arrest. She didn't allow herself to consider the third reason. She couldn't, and so she pulled back her hands.
"Andrea," Miranda finally spoke, though it lacked her usual bite. "I need you to pick up my papers."
"Your... your papers?" Andy stuttered, before it dawned on her. "Oh, the papers you've dropped." She looked around.
"Yes, the papers I've dropped," Miranda said impatiently.
Andy stared at her. And stared. What was wrong with her? "So... you're ok?"
"Excuse me?" Miranda's eyes narrowed. A dangerous sign. Tread carefully, Andy.
"I just... I mean..." Andy took a deep breath and started to speak again. "Are you sure you're ok? You didn't answer my question and I know that that isn't what you do, but in the circumstances I kind of thought that you might, you know, answer me." She paused. "I don't mean to be rude or to ramble, but your papers aren't exactly what's important here. I mean, I'm worried that you're hurt or something and you might need me to phone a doctor if you can't stand up. Or... or I could help you to your office and... stuff."
"Stuff?"
Andy cringed. She'd been so careful not to use that word ever since her first day, and now she'd undone all of her hard work with one momentary lapse. "I'm sorry, Miranda," she said meekly, losing her confidence. "I'll pick up your papers right away."
"No," Miranda said, and her voice sounded softer than before, and kind of... amused. Andy chanced a look up and saw something unidentifiable in her eyes, mixed with a hint of confusion. "Just have Emily do it."
"Oh, ok," Andy nodded. She pulled herself to her feet, ready to go and do as Miranda said.
"Wait," Miranda commanded.
Andy frowned in confusion at Miranda. When she observed the expression on Miranda's face, she understood. She did want help from Andy, but she couldn't bring herself to ask for it. With a smile on her face that came more naturally than expected, she held out her hands for Miranda to hold onto.
With a slight shake that could only be noticed by watching as closely as Andy was, Miranda grabbed the younger woman's hands and slowly hauled herself up. She was even lighter than Andy expected her to be, and a flash of concern bolted through the young woman as she worried that Miranda could be more hurt than even she herself realized. Hoping she wouldn't regret it, she said carefully, "Miranda, are you certain that you aren't hurt? You're so fragile."
"Fragile?" Miranda sneered, and instantly Andy knew that she had said the wrong thing.
Desperately, she tried to rectify the damage she'd done. "I just meant..."
Miranda gave her a fierce glare. "That's all."
Oh. So that was that then.
Brilliant.
*
The rest of the day could only be described as painful for Andy. Miranda was nothing short of evil and took great delight in sending Andy out for Starbucks three times, rearranging her schedule five times, and running to the Closet seven times. Any sympathy that Andy had had for Miranda had vanished completely, and she herself was in an awful mood as she typed out an email to Vivienne Westwood's people, asking if she wouldn't mind having her collection ready for Miranda to view an entire month earlier than it was that simple, she thought angrily.
"What is wrong with you?" Emily sneered from across the room.
"Huh?" Andy replied.
"You're bashing the keyboard like your fingers are miniature hammers. It's quite distracting," Emily observed.
"There's absolutely nothing wrong with me," Andy denied, and then backtracked, though she kept her voice low so as not to be overheard. "No, actually, there is. I try and do her a favour-" she jerked her head in the direction of Miranda's office. "And she repays me by treating me like crap as usual."
"You mean you're the source of her even fouler mood?" Emily hissed, eyes flashing wildly. "What on earth did you do?"
"She fell over, and I helped her up," Andy stated, sticking to the shortened version and avoiding the use of the word 'fragile'.
"You did WHAT?" Emily roared the last word. "Have you finally lost it?"
"What was I supposed to do, leave her there?" Andy argued.
"Yes! Yes, you were supposed to pretend you hadn't seen anything and walk in the opposite direction. Have you learnt nothing?!" Emily seemed to be on the verge of having a fit.
Andy felt her face turning red, though for once it wasn't from embarrassment. She had had enough. "I've learnt that basic human manners and trying to be nice are evidently not appreciated around here. I've learnt that giving a damn and actually caring about Miranda is utterly pointless because she just punishes you for it. Oh and I've also learnt that I'm not pretty or skinny, that I'm a useless excuse for a human being and a walking fashion disaster," she ranted.
"Well, at least you've learnt something," Miranda drawled, standing at the door of her office.
Emily smirked.
Ordinarily, Andy would have gulped, apologized and prayed that she wouldn't be fired. But there was only so much she could take, and so she merely glared at Miranda, waiting to be told that it was time for her to leave the building and not bother to come back.
"Leave, Emily."
Andy stood to gather her things and... wait. Emily? Huh?
"Yes, Miranda." Emily did as was asked of her, though she couldn't hide the look of shock upon her face. It was obvious what she was thinking; surely Andy should be the one to go?
Andy stood still, frozen to the spot as she tried to work out what exactly was going through Miranda's head. She wore a perfect poker face and was staring at Andy without giving away anything. She was most probably still in a horrible mood unless something miraculous had happened such as Stephen getting run over by a bus; or she'd put a hit on him and had just had the call to say it had been successful. Seeing as the chance of either of these scenarios was slim, Andy was sure that her fury was still very much present which meant that she was...
"Andrea, I wish to see you in my office."
... for it.
Uh oh.
*
Andy stood before Miranda's desk as she had many times before, and waited for what was sure to be the lecture of her life. She briefly wondered if Miranda was somehow going to work cerulean blue into it as a reminder of just how well she had managed to demean Andy before, but then she realized that Miranda didn't need to remind Andy of any humiliation. She achieved degradation on a daily basis without even trying, and the fact that Andy automatically assumed she was going to be ridiculed spoke volumes.
"Fragile," Miranda stated disdainfully, standing on the other side of her desk and watching Andy. "Fragile."
"It's just one word, Miranda. It didn't mean anything." Andy explained, though she wasn't sure why.
"It's offensive," Miranda replied. "To the persona that I portray."
Andy snorted. "What, because you don't want people to recognize that you're human?"
Miranda glared.
It had no effect. Andy was no longer frightened of the Editor; she had seen a glimpse of emotion in her eyes when she had fallen. Maybe it would get her fired, maybe she would have to face the consequences and she would live to regret it, but she couldn't stand back and not say what she thought. "I'm not trying to be disrespectful, because I do respect you. But I... Miranda, I approached you when you fell because I care about you. And I can't help that, it isn't something that you can teach someone not to do."
"No it's not," Miranda agreed, surprising Andy. "But we don't always act on our feelings, do we? Sometimes it is best to take a different course of action because otherwise we will end up suffering." Her tone of voice suggested that this was no longer related to the fall but was about something else. Something deeper.
Andy felt as though she had entered the twilight zone. Miranda was actually having a discussion with her, though of course, that could change at any moment. For now, Andy took advantage of it and replied cautiously, "No, we don't. But at the same time, if risks were never taken then you wouldn't be where you are standing and I definitely wouldn't be working for you. If I hadn't given what I'm sure you refer to in your head as my 'pathetic little speech' when I interviewed for the job, then we wouldn't be here today. Sometimes doing the sensible thing isn't the only option, Miranda."
For a second, Miranda looked awed. And then, quick as a flash it disappeared, and she said quietly, "I actually thought your speech was rather brave."
"Oh," Andy paused. "Well... thank you."
Miranda waved off her gratitude. "You don't understand, Andrea, because you're still learning. It isn't that manners and kindness aren't appreciated by me, it's that I'm not allowed to appreciate them. To run a fashion magazine such as Runway and be successful in doing so, there is no time for niceties."
"I accept that," Andy replied. "But that doesn't mean you have to make me feel like an idiot for being worried about you injuring yourself."
"You're not an idiot," Miranda countered, and there was a sudden warmth in her eyes that Andy hadn't seen before, but suspected had always been there, well hidden. It was like Miranda was no longer shutting herself away, allowing Andy a little more of what she was behind closed doors. For the first time, Andy found herself thinking that Miranda was truly beautiful. She'd glimpsed it earlier when Miranda had allowed her defences to weaken after the fall, but here, now, it was fully visible in her eyes. It took Andy's breath away, and she tried not to stare, scared that this was going to end with her running out of the office in tears. Because if Miranda hurt her now with an insult or abuse, then it was going to hurt. Really hurt.
"You might want to take that back," Andy replied, and Miranda looked confused. "Because..." She paused. She wanted to tell Miranda that she was beautiful, and kissing her suddenly seemed like a fantastic idea. But she thought that was probably pushing it, and so instead she quipped, "On my first day, I answered the phone and asked someone from D&G how to spell 'Gabbana.'"
Miranda looked amused, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "I'm glad you didn't ask me, because I most certainly would have fired you there and then."
"Yeah, I imagine you would have," Andy smiled, feeling more at ease. She'd covered. Thank God.
Miranda cleared her throat. "You should probably get back to work and let Emily know that it's alright for her to come back."
Andy nodded.
"And it goes without saying that this... is between us," Miranda said carefully.
"Of course." Andy didn't know what this was but anything that was just between herself and Miranda was fine by her. Progress had been made.
Well done, Andy.
*
That night, Andy delivered the Book as usual, and was just on her way out when she heard Miranda's soft voice call her name from the study.
Apprehensively, she made her way towards the room. Miranda's mood had improved after their discussion, but that didn't mean that she wasn't irritated once more. She was the most unpredictable woman that Andy knew, and so she wasn't going to kid herself that Miranda would want to talk to her again unless she had some sort of evidence to back it up.
Like Miranda sitting before her, looking relaxed and comfortable. She was still wearing her makeup and her hair was immaculate, but she had changed into a short cream dress robe that came above the knee. Andy swallowed. She needed to focus and not think about the crush that somewhere in the past twelve hours she had apparently developed on her boss.
"Is there something you..." Andy allowed her gaze to drift from Miranda's face down to her bare legs, her snow white skin that was teasing her. And then she noticed the deep purple bruises on Miranda's knees, and was distracted from her libido completely. "Oh my God, Miranda. Are you alright?" She walked towards the Editor, and knelt before her, examining the bruises.
"They look worse than they are," Miranda stated.
"Are you sure? Do you want me to get you some ice?"
"I'm fine, Andrea," Miranda said impatiently, and Andy snatched her hands away at Miranda's tone of voice. "Sit down," Miranda commanded, but softer than she usually did.
Andy did as she was told, eyes wide and watching Miranda, ready to tense at the first sign of an insult.
"Will you stop looking at me like I'm about to kick you?" Miranda said in response to Andy's posture.
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize. Just..." Miranda closed her eyes and ran a hand through her hair. She looked frustrated. But Andy had no idea why.
"What's wrong?" She asked gently.
Miranda opened her eyes. "You're getting very bold, aren't you? Question after question... touching me."
"Don't you want me to?" Andy blurted out before she could stop herself. Apparently, somewhere along the line she'd developed some sort of attraction to her boss, and the lines between employer and employee had been blurred into oblivion. When this had occurred she had no idea, and more to the point, she had no idea how to fix it.
"I..." Miranda faltered. "No."
Andy was sure that she was lying, but she didn't think it was a good idea to accuse Miranda of not being truthful unless she was sure. If she was wrong then she was definitely fired. That wasn't even the worst of it, if things escalated then she could very well end up with a sexual harassment suit served upon her and her entire life would be ruined, not only her career in journalism.
"I should go then," Andy stood.
"Excuse me?" Miranda seemed taken aback.
"Well you don't like me showing concern for you, so unless there's something you need I should go," Andy said, matter-of-factly. It was probably best this way if she really thought about it. She walked towards the door.
"Back to your boyfriend?" Miranda spat viciously.
Shocked at the sudden, pure hatred in Miranda's voice, Andy reflexively snapped her head around. Taking a moment to consider Miranda's reaction, she suddenly understood. Miranda was jealous. And if she was jealous then that meant that Andy wasn't the only one with a crush or... something. "I don't have a boyfriend," she informed Miranda, trying to keep her voice level. She shakily walked back towards the Editor.
A beat. "You don't... you're not in a relationship?" Miranda asked finally.
"No."
Miranda noticeably relaxed, and then tensed again. "I see."
Sitting back down, Andy leant forward and said softly, "Why does it matter?"
Miranda snorted. "It doesn't."
Andy exhaled, psyching herself up for the fact that she was quite possibly about to commit career suicide. "You're doing a pretty bad job of acting like you don't care, Miranda."
Eyes narrowing, Miranda opened her mouth to no doubt deliver a sarcastic reply. Andy however beat her to it, and carried on speaking before she chickened out. "I'm not going to announce to the world that you're capable of actually having feelings. I just want to know because... it would matter to me. It would matter a lot."
Now it was Miranda's turn to ask a question. "Why?" Her eyes were bright, slightly hazy in a way that they had never been before. It was real emotion that Andy could see reflected in them, and it only served to hasten her heartbeat, cloud her thoughts even further.
Andy swallowed nervously. This was it. Quite possibly the only chance she would get, so she had better make the most of it. "Ok, I would really appreciate it if you would not fire me for what I'm about to do. Or at least fire me and give me a decent reference."
Miranda quirked up an eyebrow that blatantly said, "If-I-don't-like-what-you-do-unemployment-will-be-the-least-of-your-worries."
Oh well. Too late to back out now.
Andy kissed her.
She leant towards Miranda, closed her eyes, placed a hand upon her cheek and kissed her. Seconds later and Miranda hadn't kissed her back, but she hadn't stopped or slapped her either. Flickering her eyes open briefly, Andy saw that Miranda had shut her eyes and didn't look like she was about to murder her. Encouraged, the young woman relaxed and parted Miranda's mouth open with her own, nibbling on her bottom lip and sucking gently until she felt Miranda shudder.
That was the catalyst. Moments later and Andy found herself straddling her bosses' lap with Miranda's nails digging into her back. Not only was Miranda reciprocating the kiss but she was pulling Andy towards her and initiating further contact. Their tongues clashed in the battle for dominance, Andy gasping as Miranda arched into her and slipped a hand underneath her shirt. Her skin was warm to the touch, and Andy knew that never again would she think of Miranda as an Ice Queen; not when she was so beautifully human.
"Wait," Andy gasped, pulling back. "What... what about Caroline and Cassidy?"
"They're in bed," Miranda said hoarsely, trying to compose herself.
"We can't... I mean what if they..." Andy tried to explain, but her mind was fuzzy and she couldn't think clearly.
"I know," Miranda said regretfully, her reluctance to stop obvious. "You should go."
"Yeah," Andy agreed. "But this isn't over, is it?"
Miranda eyed her carefully. "I should hope not, Andrea."
Andy grinned. "Good." She placed a chaste kiss on Miranda's mouth before she extracted herself from Miranda's lap and stood.
"Earlier on," Miranda said suddenly, standing up herself. "You said something that I've been wondering about."
"Oh?" Andy frowned, hoping that whatever it was wouldn't ruin what had just developed between herself and Miranda.
Miranda continued, "You said that you had learnt from working at Runway that you were not pretty or skinny," she paused. "Do you really believe that?"
"Yeah, I do," Andy shrugged. "I never used to but being surrounded by people who look like models and sometimes are models doesn't exactly do wonders for my self-esteem."
"You're wrong," Miranda said quietly.
"Oh yeah right," Andy scoffed. "You said it yourself when you called me the 'smart fat girl.'" She didn't mean to sound so bitter but she had been really hurt by Miranda's words at the time, and there was still a little soreness as far as her appearance was concerned. Back in Ohio she had always felt beautiful the way she was, but being thrust into the world of fashion had stripped away any positive thoughts about the way she looked.
Miranda sighed, evidently trying not to lose her patience. "I was... irritated by your failure to do your job. But I would never have hired you if I didn't think you were pretty. You may be bigger in size than any other girl at Runway, but you're fine the way you are. Besides..." Miranda allowed her voice to trail off, apparently debating her next words.
"Besides what?" Andy prompted after a few seconds of silence.
With a roll of her eyes at Andy's impatience, Miranda eventually continued, "It is entirely your fault that I fell earlier."
"Huh? What?" Andy struggled to see the relevance of Miranda's fall to the current topic of conversation.
"You and your ridiculously short Valentino skirt... I mean really Andrea, even by Runway standards that was extremely daring," Miranda said, her cheeks flushing at her admission.
Andy grinned. "You fell because you thought my skirt was daring?" She tried not to jump up and down on the spot with happiness. "Or because you were too busy staring at my legs?"
"I don't appreciate being mocked," Miranda snapped.
Despite the older woman's tone of voice; Andy didn't take offence. She realized that it had taken a great deal of courage for Miranda to voice her praise aloud; especially as it wasn't something she normally did with her assistants. Not wanting Miranda to completely close off to her, Andy stopped grinning and raised a hand to touch Miranda's cheek. "I'm not mocking you; promise," she said seriously. And then, more playfully. "My apologies for being so distracting."
"Yes, well..." Miranda muttered, still annoyed but calmer than before. "Perhaps you could wear it out of the workplace from now on, or with an extremely thick pair of pantyhose."
"Sure," Andy promised. If her distracting Miranda was the sole reason for her mood that day (she didn't have the courage to outright ask Miranda, so she could only assume) then she would most definitely choose her outfits more carefully from now on. "Perhaps we could discuss what garments are suitable for work, tomorrow evening at some point?"
"I'll have to check my schedule," Miranda replied, not committing herself, evidently still narked at Andy's teasing.
Knowing full well that Miranda had no plans and that she was just being difficult, Andy shrugged and said lightly, "No worries, I'll ask Emily if you're busy. I know she pushes the boundaries frequently, but she always manages to keep it appropriate. I'm sure she wouldn't mind giving me advice."
Miranda glared. Jealous much? Andy thought smugly, though she was careful not to let it show in her facial expression. "There's no need for that," Miranda informed her. "You know... I'm sure I will be able to spare an hour or two."
"Great," Andy smiled. She placed a kiss upon the corner of Miranda's mouth and dragged her thumb across her lips in a gesture of affection, knowing that if she did anything more she would never be able to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow."
Miranda stared mutely as Andy walked across the hall, unable to formulate a reply. And then just as Andy opened the door and was about to exit, she called out, "Wear pants tomorrow. Preferably not tight ones."
Score.
*
Before bed that evening, Andy carried out her usual ritual of reading over the rules:
Miranda Rules
1. Ask no questions whatsoever, no matter how confused.
2. When Miranda tells you to be somewhere by a certain time, always arrive 15 minutes early.
3. Heels that are at least three inches to be worn at all times in Miranda's presence. Despite how annoying she is, no bashing Miranda's head in with said heels.
4. No touching. Or molesting, groping, or tickling, either. Obviously.
5. Starbucks must be scalding hot. Test by spilling a little on own wrist. If it burns then the temperature is acceptable.
6. Phone answered at all times. Even during sex.
7. No tears, because they only make Miranda angrier, not to mention scarier.
8. Eating is forbidden within the presence of Miranda.
9. No sick days, even if the loss of a limb is involved.
10. When the words 'That's all' are uttered, that really is all. Get. Out. Sharpish.
She'd surpassed herself that day by successfully breaking two of the rules and not only keeping her job, but earning a place in Miranda's good books on top of that. Maybe, she suspected, it was time to do a little revising of them; especially where number four was concerned. Obviously she had to continue to follow the rules in public, but she was sure that Miranda would show her a little more lenience in the future regarding the others, and not terrorise her into following them at every available opportunity.
She grinned.
Breaking the rules had never felt so good.