Selfish Appetite [5 Seconds of Summer]

[13]

"Disconnected."

- - 
a/n: long chapter coming 🍂

Sloan 

It's 14:02 in the afternoon when the first itch starts in my suit jacket, an annoying reminder of the formality of this moment.

I try to discreetly adjust the collar of my dress shirt, scratching the back of my neck in the process. The skin there is clammy, soaked with sweat.

Seven minutes later, a petite secretary in a bright yellow dress steps into the reception lounge. Her presence, like a sudden burst of sunshine, interrupts the droning monotony of the sterile space.

The plaque inside the spacious elevator reads Rose Morrison Institute of Mental Health, bathed in an unforgiving, blinding white light.

The elevator's music is a familiar tune, but its cheerfulness only irritates me as I keep my cool, glancing sidelong at the woman beside me—who, despite her official smile, looks like someone I might end up calling Sunflower for no other reason than the brightness of her outfit.

She offers a polite, somewhat awkward smile as the elevator ascends.

I can't help but wonder: They've rescheduled my interview three times already—are they really going to hire me or just reject me quietly after this?

The anxiety gnaws at me, but I recognize the illogical nature of these thoughts. If they've bothered to interview me, it means I made the cut. They want me. They're interested.

"She will be with you shortly." Sunflower says with another brief smile before exiting, leaving me in the sterile quiet of the empty office.

I take a slow breath, forcing my thoughts to focus.

I make my way to the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the sprawling city reveals itself. Rush hour has already begun in full swing, the streets gridlocked with traffic. The honking of horns fills the air as dozens of cars try to bully their way forward, as if honking will make the lights change faster.

Across the street, I spot another building—another mental health institute. Its presence is almost ironic. I vaguely recall passing it while I was submitting resumes—They focus on working with kids, and that's not my area of expertise.

Before I can linger further, a voice cuts through my thoughts.

"Miss Bennett."

It's firm, silky, and a little startling, making me turn toward its source.

I smile politely at the woman now standing at the entrance. Dressed in all black, she motions for me to approach her desk. We exchange a firm handshake, and she offers me some water. We sit, the air still, tension hanging just below the surface.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Qadri." I say, trying to mask my nerves with a smile. "I hope it's not inappropriate for me to mention how much I admire your work. I've read all your published papers."

She smiles, and it's warm, though there's a glint of something playful in her eyes. "It's not inappropriate at all. I love meeting fans." she jokes, her tone easy and light.

*

An hour later, the interview has concluded, and Qadri shakes my hand once more.

"It's been a pure joy conducting this interview, Sloan. You did great."

"Thank you so much." I smile, the tension finally ebbing away.

"Keep your phone on." she adds with a reassuring nod that practically lifts all the weight from my body. "I have a feeling you'll be receiving a call pretty soon."

*

By the time I reach Alex's office, the air has shifted—my nerves still buzzing, but lighter now. Alex claps once, excitement evident in his voice.