If not for my mother’s powerful genes that she shot into me in a healthy dose, I too would be guilty of this. Half the time, I barely remember lip balm because it’s cold outside. I say that to say that makeup is less than an afterthought. But that next day (which thankfully did not disrupt my classes since I was way ahead on my assignments and could miss a day or two, not that he asked), I found myself taking special care with my outfit at least.
I still didn’t go crazy with the makeup, but I found something other than my uniform of jeans and hoodie to wear for our meet. The slacks hung on my hips just right, and the white silk button-down contoured to my waist and hugged my embarrassingly huge tits in ways that I had no control over, but at least they were covered.
I studied my almost turquoise eyes that no longer needed glasses of any kind after laser surgery except for the ones I wear to shelter my vision from the rays of the sun. There wasn’t shit I could do about my bouncy blonde curls, so I left those alone. I could wish for some more height on my five foot three frame since the media says he’s about six foot two, but whatever. I for damn sure wasn’t about to wear heels, so ballet flats it is.
Once I was dressed and ready to go, I grabbed my purse and headed out. All the way there, I kept going over my spiel. Now, his office isn’t far from the university I now attend and my brother’s old alma mater, which isn’t far from the university that Deidre and Tessa attended. I think I read somewhere that he liked it here so much that he decided to stay instead of heading back to the Northwest where he originated.
None of that mattered right now, though, so I stayed focus on what I wanted from him and how I was going to get it. And then I was led into his office and forgot my name. “What the fuck!”
Samantha
Well done, Samantha, way to make a good first impression. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the flow of word vomit from my mouth and tried really hard not to stare at the man who turned away from looking out the high rise window when I walked in. I pushed on the door a little and read the name again just to be sure.
“Samantha?” He was giving me a very odd look as he came forward with an extended hand. I wasn’t gauche enough to wipe my palm on my slacks even though it felt suddenly drenched with flop sweat, so I took his and hoped for the best. “Jared Macalister?” I posed it as a question, still not sure how to reconcile the Adonis before me with the picture in my head.
I was hoping he hadn’t heard my involuntary outburst when he burst that particular bubble with his next words and a smile. “That’s quite the vocabulary you’ve got there, come on in and tell me what it is that’s so important we just had to meet.” I hadn’t exactly worded it that way, but never mind.
“Don’t do that.” Look, I’m not sure what happened, but somewhere between his assistant opening the door to usher me in and him looking up from his computer screen, every lick of sense I ever had went on vacation. It’s a sure bet that I’m never going to see this man again anyway, so it doesn’t matter what I say or do, but still. I found myself being just a little bit annoyed that he was not what I expected and knew my snarky bitch of a twin was about to show her ass.
He had that stupid smile that should be outlawed plastered on his way too awesome face, and I didn’t know what the hell to do with myself. Samantha, get a grip; you’ve seen a man before. Yeah, but not one as hot as this! Whatever they all suck in more ways than one. You got shit to do that does not involve wondering how long his… stop it.
Usually, one of my inner monologues can get me to snap out of whatever fog I’d fallen in, but not today. I have to pull my shit together for the next few minutes at least or wing this shit somehow for now. I’ll figure out what in the Sam Hill is going on with me once I beat feet the hell outta here.
“Do what?” He had that same look on his face like I’d just gotten off the short bus. Meanwhile, my eyes were glued to the dimples that were barely visible in his cheeks. “Is this a joke?” There I go again, but you’ve got to forgive me. As a bona fide nerd, geek, dweeb, anorak, I know very well what my ilk looks, smells, and sounds like.