Elliot James

02.

A faint knock on the door, brings back him from the trance he is lost in- the trance being a certain blonde sitting on his lap, cradling him- anchoring him to the present. He cranks his neck, clearing his throat at the same time, stirring in his seat to get his point across. But, the girl takes his shift as another welcome sign and moans, putting on a show.

It seems like she didn't get the memo. He didn't expect her to have such less brain cells, but what did he really expect from her when he picked her up from the bar nearest to his offices' headquarters.

"Come in" He authorizes, praying to the gods, that a little intrusion would free himself of the clutches of the girl who was pulling at his hair. Literally, pulling at his hair which he fears would give away any second now.

I swear if she leaves a bald patch on my head..

A beat or two passes by before his eyes land on the most gorgeous human being he has ever seen, in his entire 27 years of life. Her beautiful evergreen eyes bulges, threatening to pop out of her eye sockets, his black ones closing momentarily. Not from pure bliss, but from utter humiliation. This is not the way he'd make a first impression on a girl, this heavenly. But for now, he'd have to make do with what he  is faced with.

At this thought, he briskly gets up, knocking of the girl on his lap to the carpeted floor. The blonde grunts and curses in a string, of all which is muted for his ears. His sight, his hearing and his feelings are all focused on just one girl, who is turning an attractive shade of crimson on her olive skin.

He sees she's trying to look as small as she can be, a Bambi caught in headlights, on wobbly knees who is trying hard to stand, and his heart clenches for reasons unknown.

"I'm so sorry, I thought Mr. Keller was in the room and I uh.. please continue", her eyes are finally lifted from the floor, gaze moving between him and the blonde, who he still doesn't know the name of.

Ms. Dimwit, suits her well.

He notices with pure amusement that the girl with a face full of freckles and an almost 5'6" figure is turning a deep crimson as an idea seams itself in his mind, making him smile. She furrows her brows, making them dip down creating a tiny v in between the brows. It baffles him how quickly he noticed this about her, when he couldn't  remember the face of the girl fully, who he'd made out with minutes ago.

The blonde girl seems hurt, ready to scratch his face and hiss at the girl who is standing, now inside the cabin. But because no one can look at him and not abide his commands, the blonde thus leaves him and the angelic beauty of a beetroot alone.

Really? Beetroot, He thinks for himself.

He clears his throat, a way of taming his wayward thoughts , trying to get a grip on his fleeting heart. For some, out of the world, galaxies colliding reason, she makes him nervous. Nervous, in a good way.

"Hello, please take a seat. I'll be your interviewer today, as Mr. Hamilton (formally known as Mr.Keller, her interviewer) reported sick and asked me to do it. He says this interview is, quite.. important", arching his eyebrows, he adds "... I can clearly see why". Just because he couldn't help himself.

She seemed like she wanted to shove his foot into his mouth and sew it, but just settles on a "I see."

"I didn't quite catch your name, miss?, he lingers on the miss, dragging out the s for effects.

"That's because I didn't give it to you, sir", she silently makes her move, in the mind game they have sprung themselves in their head. The ball is in his court, let's see if he scores or if he misses.

His glare usually fazes and dazes everyone who comes within its proximity but with her, it's the other way round.

"So what is it?"
And, he misses. Where did his smart talking mouth go, on a world tour? He didn't have the answer to that.