Thursdays with Thomas Holmes

Punked?

I pushed the number 10 sign on the elevator and closed my eyes, mentally preparing myself for the interview. 

This matching tight brown pants and blazer with a white midriff underneath is killing me. This 5 inch Prada I'm wearing isn't helping either. 

I heard the elevator tick signaling that I was on the 10th floor. 

I opened my eyes. The first thing that I saw was the lighted sign that was hanging in the visitor's area: Studio 10B. 

I slid myself to the woman that stood behind the desk past all the people crammed in the area. Everyone seems like they're having a good time. 

There's people reading jokes to each other and some were just doing funny bits.

I think I even saw two people dressed as George Washington and Alexander Hamilton at one point. 

"Hi, I'm Jessica Ryan. I'm here for an interview." 

"Oh, please take a seat first. Mr. Holmes is uhh.. preoccupied at the moment." I don't know if it's just me or there is something implied in her sentence. 

The guys near us gave a silent snicker, the other one even walked towards us to give the lady a high five.

They seem to be good friends. I just raised my eyebrows, nodded and took a seat on one of their black couches. 

I really like the vibe of this place, not as formal and grand as the ground floor of the building, instead, the place looks comfy and feels a little bit homey. 

My thoughts wonder into what if  I get the job then quickly stopped myself. I shouldn't get my hopes up and this is my first try. 

"Miss Ryan." I heard the woman in the front desk call my name. "Your first interview will be conducted by one of our head writers - Mr. Bradey." 

I thought I was going to be interviewed by the host of the show. 

"Mr. Holmes is still busy with his current appointment. You'll meet with him later." She added, maybe my curiosity showed on my face. "Just go straight ahead, third door on the left." 

I'm now standing in front of the third door that is labeled as the writer's room. I knocked and opened the door; I'm pretty sure that what happened next will be the death of me. 

My tombstone will read: Here lies a daughter, a sister, a friend, and an idiot.

I put one foot forward first before the sight in front of me made me stop my tracks.

Two emerald green eyes were looking intently at me, two very familiar green eyes. 

He was out of his blue dress shirt and now was sporting a black long sleeve sweater, he was sat behind a desk full of papers and a laptop on his right side. 

I guess he was just as surprised as I was considering he stopped dead on whatever he was doing when I entered the room, not to mention he's wide-eyed and one of his eyebrows is raised.

He didn't take too long to recover though, he cleared his throat and straightened his posture. 

"Hello, cupcake." His eyes never leaving mine. "Aren't you going to sit down?"

He was now smiling, not his usual smile but something else. "Or are you going to just run off on me again?" His something else smile, is he mad? The way he said his last sentence made it seem like he's.. hurt? 

I'm still at halt on my tracks and I can't help but to put back my head a little, close my eyes and touch the bridge of my nose.

It feels like the universe is playing tricks on me again.