The Devil Wears GUCCI || Larry Stylinson

Chapter 3.

Luckily, it hadn't taken him long to find the editorial building. The magazine's logo proudly displayed majestically over the front door did not allow him to do so.

The building towering in front of him was much bigger than he had imagined. The huge grey tower made Louis feel an extreme sense of anxiety. It wasn't helped by the bustle coming from the busy streets, even though the sun was barely visible on the skyline this early in the morning. But, he was in New York, that was no surprise.

Oh, God. Calm down, will you?

You haven't even set foot in there.

Stop being so pathetic, Louis. You can do this.

With a sigh and those words of encouragement to himself he crossed the street. He couldn't let his nerves get the better of him. The building wasn't the one that had to intimidate him, after all.

When he had called the number in the newspaper to make an appointment, he had thought —awkwardly— that it would be simple. They'd give him a date to show up, interview him, give him a yes or no, and that was it. Easy and quick, just as it had been at the other publishers he had already applied to.

It hadn't been like that.

First of all, he had to send his CV to the exclusive recruitment email, as he had been asked to do on that call. The lady who answered the phone explained to him, in a monotone voice, that he first had to go through a series of filters so that human resources could evaluate his profile and see if he could be suitable for the job. On top of that, he underwent a couple of online psychometric tests, which left him doubting himself more than once. Louis thought it was kind of funny that they would take an assistant position so seriously.

Once that was done, all he had to do was wait for a call back.

If Louis said he hadn't spent the last week pacing back and forth all over his flat, anxiously awaiting that damn call, he would absolutely be lying.

The waiting was slowly and painfully eating away at him. He refused to believe the obvious rejection that, once again, he'd had. He could almost see his application being deleted along with thousands of others. All being dumped like useless rubbish in some computer's trash bin, with a simple click. He wondered if the magazine's reason for not calling and clarifying that he hadn't been qualified was to spare him an awkward and embarrassing 'thanks but no thanks, good luck next time!' Louis preferred that kick in the arse to the silent rejection that was taken for granted.

It was yesterday afternoon, when he was taking it out on Zayn, that Brightness had called.

Zayn had made his presence known in his flat earlier that day, claiming he needed to calm his nerves. "Relax Louis, it's normal they take a while." He had told him, with a nod of his head and a slow bat of his eyelashes.

The words had the opposite effect, because all Zayn had gotten was an even angrier Louis and a, "Don't tell me to calm down, this is all your fucking fault!" As he unconsciously answered his phone —which was ringing and getting on his nerves— with a loud, "What the fuck?!"

He felt all the blood in his system rushing to his feet. His heart stopping a beat when on the other end of the line, after a brief silence, an awkward voice came through.

"Mr. Louis Tomlinson? I'm talking from Brightness magazine."

Fuck.

Oh, fucking life.

Louis had the ability to fuck up long before he even had a chance. Seriously, even he surprised himself.

With an awkward apology leaving his lips, he plopped down next to Zayn on the couch, expecting the worst. Much to his surprise, the girl on the line cleared her throat, then informed him that he had been worthy of an interview, that he was expected at the publishing house tomorrow and to ask for a Liam Payne.