Meet Scarlett Striker, a bold and quirky journalist for the Seattle Times. She's fun, confident, sassy, and just the right amount of weird. Scarlett is determined to rise to the top, no matter what it takes.
When her boss offers a golden opportunity...
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Another day in the office, actually my second week. I walk in wearing a black pencil skirt and blazer with a white blouse underneath. I didn't want to wear my black high heels, but Scarlett insisted, and now here I am, teetering slightly as I make my way through the office, balancing Chris's coffee and mine.
I step into Chris's office, and as usual, he's on the phone. It's my second Monday here, and surprisingly, I don't hate Mondays anymore. I'm actually enjoying this job. Maybe a little too much.
I approach his desk and set his coffee down gently. Chris holds up one finger, signaling me to wait. So I wait, trying to look busy and important.
"Yes, okay. I'll try, but I don't know if I can give you more information than what I did," he says into the phone, his tone firm but patient. I raise an eyebrow, my curiosity piqued. Who is he talking to?
"No, you can't just do that," he says, shaking his head slightly. I catch myself wondering what the conversation is about. My inner Scarlett is practically doing somersaults with curiosity. Chris sighs, "What is so special?" I awkwardly glance around the room, unsure of what to do. Chris notices my discomfort and points to the chair across from his desk, inviting me to sit.
I take a seat, trying to look as professional as possible, which is hard when you're dying to know what's going on.
"You know, it's great that you found that person intriguing, but I'm not sure I'm going to pull through with what you asked." There's a long pause before he continues, his expression softening just a bit.
"You are a strange dude, you know that, right?" he asks rhetorically, chuckling. "Alright, I have to go. We'll talk about this later." With that, he hangs up and turns his attention fully to me, a wide smile lighting up his face.
"Looking radiant this morning," he says out of nowhere, and I freeze for a moment, caught off guard by the compliment. Radiant? Who says that? Apparently, Chris Bryant does.
I can feel a slight flush creeping up my cheeks, but I manage to keep my composure and smile back at him. "Thank you, Mr. Bryant," I respond, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest.
"I just wanted to ask a couple of questions, if that's alright," he says, clearing his throat and glancing away, almost awkwardly. Is he embarrassed? Should I have complimented him back? The thought briefly crosses my mind, but I push it aside.
"How was your first week?" he asks, his tone warmer now.
"It was great. I really love working for your company," I say, opting to compliment the company instead of him directly. The last thing I want is to give him the wrong idea...though maybe I'm overthinking things.
"Great! I'm glad to hear that." He smiles, seeming genuinely pleased. "Now, let me show you something, and I want your absolute honest opinion," he says, getting up from his chair. I stand as well, meeting him at the side of his desk. We both lean against it, the proximity sending a small jolt of electricity through me. He holds up two pictures, but I'm too distracted by the way his shirt clings to his chest, the way his hair falls just so over his forehead. Seriously, Elizabeth, get it together.
