Alex's POV

"Come on babe... Come in, I'll help you release the tension from this week..." Emma attempts to bribe in a seductive voice whilst kissing my neck as we sit in my car outside her door.

"Not tonight, Em." I say sternly, beginning to get a little irritated with her constant pushing, she'd been going on at me like this for a good ten minutes. I'd usually jump at the idea of her helping me 'release the tension from this week' but tonight I just want a little time to myself. Apparently, she doesn't get that.

As she continues her ministrations down my neck I lightly push her off and give her 'the look' as Nicky calls it. The one where I mean what I say and I'm not in the mood to play games.

She sighs and exits the car in a teenage strop as she storms up to her door and slams it behind her without so much as a goodbye. I simply sigh and roll my eyes at her child like behaviour.

I rev the engine of my beloved car back to life as I put a cigarette in-between my lips and light it. As I inhale the sweet taste of the nicotine into my craving lungs I pull away and start my drive home. The traffic light is red as I approach it so I take the opportunity to blast out 'Smoke on the water' as the iconic and familiar riff from Deep Purple crashes over me at a high volume. I smile at the memory this song holds as the traffic lights proceed to green and I pull away and race home.

I pull up to my apartment complex as the last few notes of the song play out my speakers. I turn down the sound system and flick my cigarette out the window before collecting my things and exiting the car. The lock on the car gives an audible click as I walk in to the lobby and take the elevator to my apartment - too lazy to trek the several flights of stairs up to the top of the complex to my apartment. After a minute upon entering the elevator, I arrive at the top floor.

'Home sweet home.' I think to myself.

I insert the key into the lock and unlock the door. I shut the door behind myself upon entering and rest against the smooth wood whilst releasing a long sigh. As I slowly exhale I feel all my aching bones and muscles relax and my mind stop swimming with everything relating to business.

I walk further into my open planned apartment and take an ice cold beer from the fridge and take pleasure from the satisfying noise of the cap being removed as the pressure from inside the glass bottle is released. I take a long, well deserved gulp from the heavenly (and much needed) beverage to then place it onto the black and white, marble island counter in the middle of the kitchen.

I stroll into my large bedroom and take out a pair of comfy jogging bottoms and a plain black cami top before changing into it. As I discard my work clothing into the washing machine in the kitchen I grab a hold of my beer and a take-out menu, deciding against cooking this evening.

I take a seat on my large, 'L' shaped, white leather sofa adorned with black pillows and allow myself to fall further into a relaxed state. I look out at the far wall that is made completely of glass and look at the busy streets of New York below me as night descends on 'the city that never sleeps'. I briefly tear my attention away from the beautiful sight to turn on the radio for a little background noise and call for some take-out, only to return my gaze to the window a moment later.

For the first time in a long time, I think about how much things have changed. If you told fourteen-year-old me that in ten years I'd be pretty well off, living in a high end apartment, Diane would have her own place and be living comfortably and I would be running my own software company and be well known and admired, I would have told you to fuck off. After all, when I was fourteen, Diane was working four jobs and I was working two of my own, we could barely scrape enough money together for bills and food, I never paid attention at school and I was constantly getting bullied for my clothes and overall appearance.

But here I am. Living in a high end apartment complete with new, clean black and white furniture that costs a pretty penny and more expensive appliances than I could of dreamed of at that age (to have a beat up 'brick phone' was my goal at that age). The second I had the money, I bought Diane a new place to live and furnished it despite her protests and putting a little something into her bank a month so she didn't have to work so much. She did everything she could for me and then some so it's only right I give something back to her, not that anything could ever repay her for all she's done for me.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of someone knocking at the door - food. I pay the delivery guy and take the food from his hands. I plate some up and grab another beer to then return to my previous position. I listen to the quite tones of the radio as I eat my meal, taking solitude in the peaceful bubble I have found myself in.

Considering the chance has appeared once again, I return to my earlier thoughts - thoughts of my childhood and how much I've changed. There's always that one person who doesn't fit in for whatever reason, no matter the situation, I was always that person. I was the girl sat at the back of the class, keeping my head down and hoping to avoid the stares and snarky comments being shared about themselves by the popular people like Jessica Wedge. I tried blocking it out, acting like I didn't care but it was exactly that; an act. It hurt hearing those things, I was just a kid. I didn't have any friends, I didn't have lots of money or high end materialistic items. That was probably what made me an easy victim.

But it wasn't all bad, I had three things I ever cared about and the only things I truly needed. (I knew I couldn't fit in anywhere because I wasn't pretty enough or cool enough or rich or enough or interested in boys and in the end I didn't care and the act had for years became true - hence why people see me as a hard ass bitch now who doesn't show emotion.) All I cared about was my Mom, my books/writing and my guitar. Only one person knew I had an interest in books and writing and playing guitar and that was Diane. She was and still is my best friend. Those are the three things that got me through all the shit I had to deal with; school, poverty, loneliness, Lee Burley... Those are the things that kept me sane and they still do now, truth me told.

I still have the book collection I had back then but with more added to it, I still have my beat up guitar (although I haven't played it in a while) and I still have Diane. I still write a lot too, it's become more serious over the years though. Before I would write little short stories but now I write whole books for no ones eyes but my own. But that's mainly due to the fact no one knows I write books.

There's not many people who do really know me, the real me. There's not many people I let in. Diane being the obvious exception. But then there's Nicky who I have formed a strong friendship with over the years, she's the only friend I have ever had now I come to think of it. Then there's Emma but she isn't friend, more of a reliable fuck when one is needed to put it bluntly. And then there's her... Those captivating blue eyes and soft blonde hair: Piper.

I think she's someone I could possibly allow to be a friend. She seems a nice person at the least and it doesn't hurt that she's easy on the eyes and the fact she can give me a little information on the competitor. She really does seem a great person, but when I look into those eyes - there's something she's hiding. There's a darkness that's swirling around in that beautiful head of hers and I'll be damned if I don't find out...

I stop my trail of though before it goes somewhere dark, it always does eventually. As a distraction I do something that I haven't done in a while. I go over to my beat up acoustic guitar and pluck each string individually, wincing at how out of tune the strings are. I get to work tuning each string, a happiness and contented feeling rising with each newly tuned string. I strum the six strings and give a little smile to the sound I haven't heard so long. I hadn't realised I'd missed it until now.

Thinking back to earlier in the car, I remember the progression to 'Smoke on the water'. I let my fingers glide over the string as the familiar tune fills the room. Some habits and comforts you never grow out of.

Piper's POV

I glance at the clock to see I've been reading for three hours given it is now nearly ten o'clock. I pick up my phone to see a text from Larry.

'Not gonna be home till late. Don't wait up.' Is all the text consist of. NO asking how my day was, what I've done, if I'm okay. Not even a hello.

I walk into the kitchen and pour my second glass of wine of the evening and grab an apple to please my growling stomach. I take a large bite as I enter the living room and am surprised to here my phone going off telling me I have a message. I sit back on the sofa, glass in hand and pick up my phone thinking it'd be Larry or Polly considering they are the only two people who text me. But I'm pleasantly surprised. It's Alex.

Alex: Is this a bad time to say hi?

Piper: Well firstly you aren't actually saying anything, you're typing it and secondly, no, it isn't.

I reply, feeling a little proud of myself for my sarcastic reply.

Alex: Well, aren't you feeling confident this evening. How are you?

The fact that my own boyfriend won't ask me how I am yet a virtual stranger would leaves me a little disheartened. But the fact she's asked brings a small smile to my face.

Piper: I'm okay, just relaxing with a glass of wine and a good book. Larry is working late. Yourself?

Alex: I'm okay. What're you reading?

Piper: 'The girl on the train' by Paula Hawkins. Heard of it?

Alex: Actually, I've read it. It's one of my new favourites.

A thought hits me, 'why has Alex texted me?' Knowing that the only way I'll get an answer is by asking her, I do exactly that.

Piper: Why did you message me Alex?

Alex: I meant what I said, I want to take you out for lunch or dinner or something. Or you can come to my apartment and I'll cook us something. Are you busy tomorrow? At roughly 7pm?

Piper: Yes, I believe I am. I know Larry has a conference somewhere up North and he has to stay overnight so I don't see a problem.

Alex: Good, I'll come pick you up tomorrow Miss Chapman. Text me your address.

I do as Alex asks and that's where our conversation ends. I get ready for bed and crawl under my duvet with a smile on my face. I know I shouldn't be feeling like this but I can't help the warm feeling in my stomach and the beginnings of butterflies fluttering around. I close my eyes and wish for dreams filled with a certain tall, raven haired, green eyed, secretary glasses wearing woman known as Alex Vause.