ROUND 4 IS CLOSED

Mar 21, 2011 19:37

ROUND 4 IS NOW CLOSED
PLEASE PROCEED TO ROUND 5

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round 4, !prompt

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[2/3] Not Awkward At All - Re: Dillinger Jr/Sam — Romantic Comedy style anonymous March 30 2011, 06:07:01 UTC

I must've looked like an idiot for staring at the nameplate on his desk for a good twenty-seconds or so before tripping over myself to place the report on his desk. Kevin Flynn, it said. Yep this was his office. Seriously, how did I not know that? I was so caught up with nerves I couldn't even remember whose office it used to be.

"Oh, um, I was told you needed these so...here they are," I managed to get out and took a step back from the desk. Smooth, Dillinger, real smooth. Now the head of the company thinks you're mentally challenged.

"And...I'll just be going now." He gave me a funny look, kind of like he didn't understand what I was doing in his big, posh, CEO office.

"It is so great to have you back, really," what am I saying. "I've heard so much about your work for the longest time, and all the amazing things you've done -incredible breakthroughs, I have to say." He's looking at you funny again. Back away, Dillinger, back the fuck away. "I can only hope that I'll get the opportunity to work with you."

Great, GREAT. Now he's going to throw you out of his office. You make the best first impressions, Dillinger.

"What did you say your name was?"

Oh my God, he doesn't even know who I am! Just lie. Lie, and back aw-

"Oh, I am so sorry," tell him Bob Dylan, for fuck's sake, anything but- "Edward Dillinger Junior, sir, nice to meet you."

Way to go.

"Dillinger? Huh."

Huh. Huh? WHAT DOES HUH MEAN?

I practically bolted out the office -exaggeration, of course -and all I could think was was that a good huh, or a bad huh? What the fuck does "huh." mean?!

Curse my good looks. Why couldn't I have been born average enough so that I'd be forgettable? Of course, then Sam might not like me as much as he does, but...

And so I carried on seeing his son behind his back.

"Are you sure you can't stay any longer? Really, Sam, a curfew?"

"It's not a curfew," he smiled and shook his head, tossing his napkin at me.

"Come on, I feel like I'm taking out a sixteen year old girl and I have to get her home by ten or her dad will kill me-"

"Hey, hey. That's just-"

I didn't hear the rest of what he said because the pounding of blood rushing to my head was too loud. It wasn't just that the head of the company I've slaved away for who thought I was an idiot.

My boyfriend's dad has good reason to think I'm a fucking moron.

This made me slightly more self-conscious.

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