Meet Clara Andrews: A totally vacuous girl with a hangover... Read Free

twist my hair into something that can only resemble a bird’s nest. Taking my mobile from my back pocket, I type a quick out of office reply into my email settings. Luckily, Marc’s absence from work will make it easier for me to slip away.
    With my hip, I push open the door to the restaurant and walk straight into a checked shirt.
    ‘Oops! Sorry,’ I exclaim.
    Why am I so bloody clumsy? I look up into the face of my obstacle and I am pleasantly surprised by what looks down at me. It is easily six foot tall, with ruffled, mousey hair and big blue sparklers. He flashes me a huge smile and continues on his way. As I watch him swerve his way through the masses of tables, he turns back and smiles again. Not really wanting another projectile vomiting incident, I try desperately to stop the butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Blushing, I bow my head and stride back to my table. Only I could stumble across the hottest guy ever with vomit in my hair and panda eye makeup.
    ‘I’m really sorry, Li but I’m going to head home. I knew I shouldn’t have come in today. I just need to get some sleep.’
    ‘Don’t worry about it. I haven’t seen anything of Marc anyway so it shouldn’t be a problem. You get yourself home and I will text you later.’
    ‘Are you staying to finish your lunch?’
    ‘Hell yeah, I’m not leaving this bad boy for anyone.’
    I manage a little smile as she blows a kiss over the table before diving back into the world’s biggest burger. Wrapping my waterfall cardigan tightly around me, I secretly hope to see Mr Checked Shirt again before I leave. Trying to squeeze my way through the chino clan, my eyes search the room. Suddenly, I spot him, leaning against the bar, drink in hand.
    Argh! He looks directly at me, raising his hand and flashes another mega watt smile. I blush a ridiculous shade of crimson and practically throw myself out on the pavement. Fighting the urge to look back, I head in the direction of the office car park and climb straight into my black Hyundai i30.
    As relieved as I am to be heading back home, to my lovely roll top bath and curling up for some well needed beauty sleep, I cannot help but feel strangely bothered by Mr Checked Shirt. I put the car into gear and pull away from the car park, thankful that by tomorrow morning today’s hung-over nightmare will just be one bad, nauseas memory.

Chapter 4
     
    I awake on Friday morning feeling completely rested and weirdly gleeful, which is rather strange given that I am admittedly the world’s worst morning person. Mind you, it may have something to do with the incredible twelve hours of blissful sleep I had last night. What an amazing feeling it is to be hang-over free. Gone is the over powering nausea, the intense, throbbing headache and the mouth like a dusty sandal. I feel around under my pillow for my phone and have a quick scan through my emails. Mainly junk, the odd bank statement, a few Twitter notifications and one flagged urgent from Marc.
    I tap on the email and wait a second for it to pop open. My eyes skim over the lengthy message, taking in the gist as I go and tap out a quick fire response. Basically, I have an impromptu meeting at 9.30 with the new designer in the board room and under no circumstances am I to be late. I am actually quite excited to meet the designer as we are going to be working closely on the new winter line, so I really want it go well. This is my first big task since getting my promotion so I desperately want it to be a success. Thank God it wasn’t scheduled for yesterday, I chuckle to myself.
    I allow myself one last glorious stretch before hopping out of bed and making for the bathroom. After brushing my teeth for the required two minutes and almost having my head blown off by the power of Listerine, I wander back into the bedroom and open my wardrobe. Flicking through the rails of black in search of my most professional outfit, I chew my lip thoughtfully. I want something that shouts