“Yes, 2:00 p.m. with Mrs. Stevens. I’m Rachel Perry,” I reply, my hands clutching the chiffon of my dress as I try to calm the nerves that have begun to tickle up my throat.
“Would you like some coffee while you wait?” she offers.
I laugh at the thought of coffee and my stomach. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She tilts her head curiously at me.
“I’d prefer to not miss my meeting because I’m preoccupied in the lavatory,” I explain as properly as possible.
Her grin widens, revealing a large gap between her front teeth that makes her look even more endearing. “I’ve read some of your work. You’re good. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“Oh!” I gasp. “You’ve read my…”
“Fanfiction? Yes. I think you’re a little more known than you think, BarrettBeyondTheBadge,” Naomi says my username like it’s famous. She looks me up and down with wide eyes. “And you aren’t exactly what I expected.”
My shoulders drop slightly. “I know. I’m not exactly…polished.”
Naomi laughs lightly. “I meant that in a good way. You’re quite the opposite of Evan Michaels.”
“Is he here yet?” I question. “I mean, am I allowed to ask that?”
“Yes, you are. And no, he’s not,” she answers before the phone begins ringing at her desk. “I’ve got to get this. It’s nice to meet you, Rachel Perry. Feel free to have a seat, and I’ll let you know when Mrs. Stevens is ready for you.”
I nod my head. “Nice to meet you, Naomi.”
I make my way to a white leather couch that blends into the marble that surrounds it. I try to straighten my shoulders and sit up straight. I’m a chronic sloucher. Minutes pass with Naomi gleefully answering several phone calls that come through.
It’s 1:58 p.m. when I see him.
Evan. Michaels.
He breezes through the glass door as if it magically opens for him. He’s tall. Taller than I imagined him, since I’ve only seen himsitting down. His broad shoulders fill the space around him, like he belongs, because, well,he does.His blond hair seems to have the perfect ratio of hair to scalp, as if he is that precise with his hair care regimen. His skin is surprisingly tan for someone who seems to hide away from the world. He’s wearing a well-tailored suit but no tie, and the top button of his baby blue shirt is undone.
His posture is perfect. I’m positive he doesn’t have any issues with slouching.
He doesn’t even pause to look at me, as if he isn’t curious about the anonymous fanfiction writer that is here to meet with him and his publicist. Instead, he just holds up his hand to silence Naomi before she can greet him and strides effortlessly back through the hallway filled with glass walls and prestige until finally turning into an office.
So, that’s what success looks like.
It’s a lot different than me.
The phone rings again at Naomi’s desk.
“They’re ready for you, Miss Perry,” she practically sings. “Good luck.”
That was quick.
I stand, smoothing out my dress that I know is most likely wrinkled between the subway ride and nervous sweat.
“Thanks, Naomi,” I reply.
“Last door on your right,” Naomi instructs, winking at me. “You’ll love Melanie. She’s a doll.”
“And Evan?” I question, watching Naomi’s face falter from sunshine to storm clouds in a millisecond.
“Evan Michaels? That’s why I said good luck,” she says before the phone rings again and her voice is back to sounding like she’s just seen a box of fluffy puppies for sale.
I walk slowly down the hallway, reminding myself that this is my moment. My reflection is all around me in the glass walls, and I’m beginning to regret my outfit. I should have worn a pantsuit. My dress is a little too frilly, a little too pretty, and its paisley print is a little too boondocks and sipping beer.
