𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 ✓

TWO

-

It's five-thirty when I knock on the door that leads to my boss's office. An absent grunt tells me to come in. I twist the doorknob and open the door to the spacious office he has, with the most amazing view over New York, even better than mine. I hold the door open and motion for Sebastian, who's been walking behind me, to enter first.

"Ladies first," I whisper in his direction, and he sighs and enters without further comment.

"Stan, Emmons," our boss welcomes us, "Please, have a seat."

With a queasy feeling in my stomach, I do as told, and sit on the left chair while Sebastian plops down on the right one, running his hand through his brown hair to tame it. Or maybe it's a coping mechanism.

"So, I bet you are wondering why you two are here," the man in the suit continues. It's a pinstripe suit in the most disgusting blue-ish green color I've ever seen. I focus on the salt and pepper scruff on his face and nod.

"I can assure you that it's no bad news," he continues, his gaze is still focused on his computer screen before he eventually looks at me, then at my office neighbor. He pushes his silver glasses up his nose and examines our faces for a bit. No one says a word, and I'm almost afraid to breathe at this point. What could it be then?

"Emmons, you are getting fired," Sebastian dryly comments with a vicious side-eye glance, and I shake my head, fighting the urge to flip him off. I'm so done with his cocky behavior.

"No one is getting fired, Stan," our boss agrees in a rather confused tone, "The opposite, actually."

"A promotion, I assume?" Sebastian asks, and I raise my brows. That does sound tempting.

"Indeed," our boss nods and his gaze drifts back to whatever is on his screen, "I plan to promote one of you to an assistant executive journalist, responsible for most of the topic decisions and writer of an own column on the front page."

My heart drops, but in excitement. This job would be perfect for me. I know it. I gaze over to Sebastian, who is crossing one leg above the other while scratching his beard.

"One of us," he then repeats our boss's words.

"Exactly," he says, "I will have an eye on both of you for the next month to see who deserves the promotion."

"I've been here longer than Mr. Stan," I blurt out, and both men look at me in surprise. I've been quiet for a tad too long. Sometimes, I tend to do that when my thoughts overwhelm me, and right now, my thoughts mainly consist of how amazing this promotion would be and how heavenly an office all for myself would be.

"You're both the most important writers for this magazine," our boss states, "So you're both up for the job. I hope I don't regret choosing you two."

"You won't," Sebastian quickly assures, and I shake my head, kneading my hands in my lap.

"Dismissed," our boss mumbles and turns back to his computer. I get up and follow Sebastian to the wooden door that we entered through earlier. Surprisingly, he holds it open for me without another word. As I walk past him, I can't help but mumble, "Sycophant," under my breath.

"I hope you know it's clear that I basically already have that promotion in my pocket," he says after gently closing the door behind him, "He didn't want to make it obvious. Make it seem like fair competition."

"Please," I scoff, strutting to our office as quickly as possible, "You're so gonna lose."

"Lose the privilege to share this office space with a nerdy know-it-all, yes," he sarcastically replies, "What a shame."