𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣.

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙬𝙤.

❝Yeah, are you my soulmate, my angel?
What do you want with me?❞

- Hi again, here's chapter two. Also, if I got anyone information about the White House wrong I'm truly sorry, I don't live in Washington, yet alone the us. I live in freaking New Zealand lol. Anyway. thanks for reading!!

---

"Does this look too controversial?" You questioned of your mother, staring at yourself in your tall, sleek bedroom mirror. The dress you were currently wearing certainly wasn't scandalous in any manner, but it was quite slim-flitting, more so than anything else you ever previously worn before. "No honey, it's perfectly fine. You look gorgeous. Just so, so very gorgeous.

You have to make a good first impression, remember that, your outfit included. It will be one of the first things everyone sees of you. And this dress is beautiful. I'm sure the present will love it." She said the last sentence of her statements with a suave voice, cheeky grin tugging at her wrinkled lips. You shook your head in amusement, gently doing up some of your curls, with the help of the mirror in-front of you.

"We might not even meet the president, mother. It's really just a tour. He'll probably just be in the oval office, which is strictly off limits for interns. We can only go in there if we have papers to deliver for him, which is a rare event." Your mother smiled at you, batting her slightly aged, but still loveable, still hold-able hand.

"You always fuss, Y/N. You just keep fussing over things, all the time. There's no need to fuss so much.

I'm sure everything will go swimmingly, dear. There's no need to be so overly worried. JFK might not even be your soulmate. It could be any random white house official. You don't have to be so concerned. I'm sure you'll do fine, no matter what your mind tells you. I have faith in you."

"I mean, it's insane! Me, a random, young intern girl, with the most powerful man in America! Insane! It's insane! Honestly, I hope JFK isn't anything of the sort, just as you said. I really do hope he's not my soulmate. I hope it's just some cute, respectable intern I get partnered up with for my tasks. That would make a lot more sense. That would be much better."

Leaving your room behind, you ambled back to your kitchen table, reaching for a fresh salad of garden-variety fruit; oranges, apples, plums, all the works. Fruit was sweet, and cheap, much more so than buying actual pastries and donuts, things that were way too expensive in your neighborhood, especially in the 1960s.

"Hey, don't spill fruit juice all over yourself, Y/N. You should have just had toast, I blew through my whole month's allowance on that dress. If you stain it girl, I'm going to be so beyond mad. That dress is going to get you a one-night stand with the president. You must not ruin it, I'm telling you."

You laughed slightly in response, wiping the citrus dribble from your chin, onto a life-saving napkin nearby. "Agh, I'm nervous, mother. What if I screw everything up? What if I embarrass myself in front of everybody else? What if I come back from the interning, crying my eyes out? I would be mortified."

"Well, I can say with full confidence, that you always screw everything up, girlie. This time doesn't have to be any different. I'm sure you'll screw things up just fine. Like I said, I have faith."

You proceeded to roll your eyes at your mother's irritating but amusing words, almost inhaling a glass of ice-cold water. It didn't have to be such a temperature, but it was refreshing enough to knock the sleepiness out of your noggin. "I'm 100% juice, 100% leg bouncing, 100% nerves. I'm a mess. A mess, I tell you. I'm such a mess. Oh Lord, maybe this is a bad idea. I'm already hyperventilating."