Twenty hours deep
Oh, it was enough time for you to change everything for me

Daphne Loves Derby, "Hammers and Hearts"

—

Anna Arendelle was not a very organized or punctual person.

Most days she was late, scooting into the office at a quarter past nine, having overslept despite the seven different alarms set to go off in succession at ten-minute intervals. On certain occasions, Anna's own sister had to call her to wake her up when she somehow managed to sleep through all of them.

"You're twenty-two years old now, Anna," she'd scold, and Anna could practically hear the scowl in her voice. "I shouldn't have to call you to wake you up for work."

On this particular day, Anna had only woken up five minutes late, and she scurried out the door with just enough time to snag a chocolate croissant and a coffee from her favorite streetside barista cart on her way to the office.

It was only mid-August but the weather in New York had chilled considerably. She had dressed herself in a high-waisted skirt made of olive-green suede with a black turtleneck tucked into the top, with matching black leather ballet flats and black knee-high stockings. Her strawberry-blonde hair was braided up and wrapped around her head in a messy, boho-chic updo reminiscent of a crown, and her freckled face was clean and bright; she never wore makeup to work.

After lunch she found herself sleepy and unable to focus on work; her turquoise-blue eyes were fixated on her computer screen as she clicked and scrolled, leaning an elbow on her desk, resting her chin on the heel of her hand and chewing on the cap of a pen when she was startled by a sudden male voice.

"Anna, I was supposed to have those proofs for the autumn style piece on my desk by eleven."

Shit.

Anna spit out the cap and whipped around in her chair to see Kai, the head of the design department, standing at the entrance of her office, tapping his fingers impatiently on the doorframe. He was a tall, but rotund, man, of average attractiveness, with stormy blue eyes and a bulbous nose. It was becoming more and more evident with each passing day that his reddish-brown hair was starting to gray as he approached middle age, yet his face still held a youthful appearance.

"Shit," Anna cursed out loud this time, as she began scrambling through stacks of papers on her desk. "I'm sorry, Kai. I totally spaced."

With an ease that only came with his years of dealing with the airheaded heiress of Arendelle Publishing, Kai strolled forward, reached down, and plucked a packet of papers from the bottom of a stack on Anna's desk with his thumb and forefinger, handing them to her with a smirk. She heaved a sigh of relief, but her face still flushed with embarrassment.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"Just because your name is on the company letterhead doesn't mean you get to slack any more than the rest of us, Princess." The comment wasn't malicious, but rather sassy with a touch of tough love, laced with a lightheartedness that was commonplace between them. His eyes glinted with good humor.

"I know, I know. I really am sorry."

He leaned over then, sneaking a peek at the browser window that was open on Anna's computer screen. The redheaded woman shrunk back in shame. He flashed her a knowing look before straightening back up to leave.

"Don't worry about it. Get them to me by the end of the day?"

"You got it."

He walked away from her desk and stopped at the door, turning around to address the young woman once more.

"Oh, and I like the blue hydrangeas better."

Before Anna could respond, her mouth hanging open as her jaw and throat worked to try to make a sound, Kai winked and left her office.

Maybe Pinteresting wedding ideas at work wasn't her smartest idea. But with the wedding only a month away and so much left to do, planning and finalizing the finer details had begun to take up most of her days.

Anna gazed longingly at the naked ring finger of her left hand. When her fiance had proposed it had been sudden, spontaneous, and so he hadn't given her an engagement ring. Nor could he afford one; as the youngest of thirteen siblings, he didn't receive much in terms of inheritance and had to make his own way in life. But that didn't matter to Anna; she wasn't materialistic, despite having been born and raised as the daughter of the most prominent publishing magnate of the century.

In only five weeks time she would officially become Mrs. Hans Westergaard. The thought made her swoon.

Anna discovered that her body could function on autopilot while her mind was otherwise occupied, as she spent the rest of the afternoon consumed by thoughts of the wedding: making copies as she considered the pros and cons of an outdoor reception; nibbling on the lunch that Hans had so considerately dropped off for her as she fantasized about flower arrangements; shooting off emails as she daydreamed about which hairstyle would elicit the best reaction from the guests as she walked down the aisle; proofreading documents as she wondered which color of nail polish would best complement her dress.

At half past five, Anna made her way between the rows of cubicles to Kai's office on the other side of the floor, a fresh stack of xeroxed papers marked all over with corrective ink nestled against her chest.

She was internally debating, deciding between ivory or aubergine table linens for the reception, when she smacked headfirst into something hard. The force of the collision caused her to stumble and fall backwards, landing roughly on her rump and sending her papers flying everywhere in a flurry of white and black and red.

"Oww," Anna moaned as she sat up, rubbing her sore bottom. She cracked an eye open to see the UPS man staring down at her as though he'd seen a ghost.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his timbre thick with concern. He was tall, even taller than Kai, and burly, with wide shoulders and a broad chest; the fabric of his chocolate-brown and goldenrod uniform seemed to strain against the masculine thickness of his body, the buttons running up the front of his collared shirt pulling taut, as though even the company's largest available size had been just slightly too snug for him. His tawny-colored eyes looked mildly distressed as he reached out a hand to offer to help her up, his other hand gripping the strap of his satchel with white knuckles.

"Oh yeah, pffft, I'm fine," Anna insisted in an overly exaggerated manner, dismissing his concern with a flick of her wrist and brushing his hand aside as she tried to play it cool. She winced when a shooting pain arrowed through her tailbone, but she hoped he didn't notice. "I should be asking you if you're okay, since I ran into you."

The young man shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Christopher, isn't it?"

"Kristoff," the man corrected. He flipped his shaggy, sandy-blonde hair out of his face with a tick of his head. "With a 'K'."

Anna noticed then that he was wearing a nametag that said "Kristoff" in bright metallic letters.

Duh.

He swallowed with effort and pointed towards where the ginger-haired woman still sat sprawled out on the ground. "You may want to, um…"

Anna glanced down to see that her skirt had hiked up well above her waist from her tumble, revealing her underwear. Today was laundry day, so of course she was wearing a pair of hideously girly granny panties patterned with tiny pink flowers and a petite satin bow; how mortifying.

Flustered, Anna quickly adjusted her skirt and leapt to her feet, smoothing the front of the material in a frantic bid to look put together and unfrazzled.

She jabbed a finger in his direction. "You didn't see anything."

Kristoff put both palms up in an amenable gesture of surrender.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" she huffed, going on the offense and putting her other hand on her hip a vain attempt to hide her embarrassment. "It's nearly six o'clock. Most people have closed up and left for the day."

Raising an eyebrow, Kristoff carefully grasped the wrist of the small, freckled hand that was still pointing at him and moved it to point at the UPS box right beside them, Anna's eyes following the motion the entire way.

"I pick up every day at five-thirty," he stated matter-of-factly, a hint of annoyance seeping into his voice. Sure enough, Anna could see that above the slot of the mailbox was a label that noted the daily pickup time as 5:30 p.m.

"Oh." Anna's blush darkened to an even deeper shade of scarlet. His fingers were hot on her skin, curled around her delicate wrist, and she squirmed her hand out of his hold.

"You wanna help me with this?" He gestured downward with a nod of his head.

Anna sputtered. "With what?"

"The mess you made."

Scattered around their feet was a mix of both Anna's papers and Kristoff's mail mingling together on the floor; he must've been in the middle of emptying the box when Anna crashed into him, causing him to drop his pickup.

"Oh, of course." Anna dropped to her knees and began scooping as much as she could. Kristoff crouched before her and began doing the same, easily snatching the pieces just out of her reach with his longer arms. They both reached for an envelope at the same time and their fingers brushed briefly, causing Anna to jerk her hand back as though he'd burned her. Kristoff gave her a look, but said nothing, continuing to shuffle papers together.

When at last they had separated the debris into two categorized piles, Anna gingerly lifted her own into her arms as Kristoff stuffed his stack of mail into his bag.

"Thank you," she said when at last they both stood straight again. "And, I'm sorry."

Kristoff lifted and dropped his shoulders. "No biggie."

Anna blinked. "That's it?"

"That's it what?"

"You're not going to say 'sorry' too? Or 'thank you'? Or even 'you're welcome'?"

The blonde man's brows furrowed. "Uhh, you bumped into me, remember?"

"So?"

"Sooo," he started, scratching the back of his head. "It's your fault."

Now it was Anna's turn to furrow her brows. "Yeah, but you could at least be polite about it."

"I should be polite because you weren't watching where you were going and made my job harder?" Kristoff let out a laugh. "You're crazy."

Anna's eyes widened in shock. "Well, you're rude. And you didn't make my job any easier, either. Now I have to go collate these, and I'm already past my deadline."

"That's not my problem," Kristoff scoffed, crossing his arms over his barreled chest.

The nerve of this guy.

Rather than stay and argue, Anna stuck her nose in the air and sniffed, turning and walking away from him with what was left of her dignity intact.

"Have a good evening, Christopher."

Who does he think he is, anyway?

"Be careful where you're going next time," he called after her. Anna only snorted over her shoulder in response, causing Kristoff to shake his head in mild amusement. Boy, was she a feisty one.