Dear Issy, // H.S.

"Next."

I walk into the cold room. My hands stay behind my back with my headshots and resume.

"Hi, I'm Isabelle Taylor." I smile at the man in front of me.

"I know who you are," He doesn't even look up at me, "Do you have a resume?"

"Yes," I smile, "I also have headshots."

The man looks up at me for the first time. His sharp blue eyes send daggers into my brown ones.

"I didn't ask for headshots, this isn't a modeling agency."

"Well I just thought-"

"You thought wrong."

I step back a step and watch as his eyes gaze over my resume. He pauses for a moment and shoots his eyes to mine.

"You have no dancing background or experience in ballet, how do you expect to teach a class when you have zero experience?"

If look's could kill, I'd be 6 feet under.

"Uhm-" I stutter.

"Get out of my office." He murmurs and sits back in his chair.

I stand there for a second. My absolute dream was just stepped on spit on by some blue eyed cunt. I am not going home without this job.

"I do have dancing experience-"

"Did not hear me when I said get out?" He spoke roughly.

"Could you let me speak, please?" I don't think I have ever spoken to anyone with that much attitude before .

His eyebrows raise and his mouth forms into a line.