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Two

Wednesday---5:05 PM

“You’re late” I state flatly. A slight smirk played on their lips.

“Our apologies, the traffic is really bad and all the streets blur together. Too many numbers” the blonde boy, who my research tells me is Jack Johnson, replies flippantly as if keeping someone waiting for hours is okay.

“Let’s get this over with then,” I turn on my heel and find an empty table towards the back where it was somewhat quiet.

“Shit. You’re all business huh?” Jack G chuckled as he spun his chair around so he could straddle it.

“Yes, well, some of us have deadlines we have to keep” I shoot him a forced smile as I fished my notebook and tape recorder out of my bag. My cheeks burned as I felt his intense stare on me the entire time. What’s he looking at? Probably the monster zit that decided to rear it’s ugly head this morning. Did I put concealer on it? Shit, I can’t remember. Wait, why do I care again?

“Alright so I’m just going to ask you a series of questions, basic get to know you type stuff, then shoot a couple photos for the column and we’re free,” I rattle off as if this is the hundredth interview I’ve conducted today.

“Alright, shoot” Gilinsky replied leaning forward a bit.

“When and how did you two meet?” I ask, beginning to scribble in my notebook.

“We met way back in kindergarten, at like five years old” Johnson replied with a laugh, as if he couldn’t believe such a thing was possible.

“Yeah we were wearing the same t-shirt, both named Jack, it was fate” Gilinsky finished. I nod and scribble their answer down in my notebook.

“When did you find you had a flair for music?” I continue.

“I think J has always been musically talented, he plays piano and taught himself a lot of cool songs he liked and I basically just started laying on some vocals one day” Gilinsky replied.

“Don’t let G fool you, he was in choir in school too, he didn’t just magically start singing one day. He’s always had that talent” Johnson replied.

The next ten minutes continued with inane questions such as favorite foods, colors, embarrassing stories about one another, you name it. My internal self-righteousness was screaming; this is such a waste of time. I should be interviewing senators, Spielberg, anybody!

By the time I reached the last question I hardly knew what I, or they, were blabbering on about anymore. All of these questions seemed to blur into the next one, so without really reading or comprehending I regurgitated the last question on the list in front of me.

“So, any burning desires in the romance department?” I asked. As the words fell from my lips I felt myself die internally. Burning desires? Asking complete strangers about their romantic life? You’ve got to be kidding me. The guys chuckled and glanced at each other before raising their eyebrows slightly. I’m embarrassed for them.

“I thought this was just the ‘basic get to know you’ stuff,” Gilinsky teased quoting my exact words from earlier. I cringed even harder and slid down into my seat. Any further and I’ll be on the floor.

“Oh jeez, I-I’m s-sorry about that, I didn’t know they included that...” I trailed off, clearly flustered.

“Let’s just say my past was messy” Gilinsky offered trying to redirect this awful trainwreck. I half-smile politely.

“I think I have all I need here so you guys can go” I say throwing my shit in my bag as fast as I can.

“Woah, woah, woah, didn’t you need pictures?” Johnson asked. Damnit. He was right, I did.

“Oh..yeah I guess I do, but it’s raining and disgusting outside I don’t think I’ll have the proper lighting or scene for this” I rub my forehead, actually starting to stress out because I needed these photos, my deadline was Friday.

Clearly seeing me start to have a meltdown, as indicated by my eye twitch, the guys actually did something that made me feel better.

“Hey don’t stress it, we have like a million headshots laying around we can just forward them to you” Johnson offered.

“Oh god, would you? That actually saves my ass like A LOT, you have no idea” I sigh in relief.

“Do you have a phone number or something” Gilinsky chuckled, once again catching me off guard.

“Oh, shit. Right. Uhm...hang on my journal is here somewhere..” I say desperately clawing through my bag.

“Here, just use this” Gilinsky handed me his brand new iPhone XR with the new contact screen up. I gulped, is this really happening? He just needs your e-mail for work purposes, relax crazy.

I typed my name into his phone and attached my e-mail address that I use for business related things, and tapped save. His gaze never left me the entire time I tried to remember how to spell my own name. I was so flustered and honestly unprofessional, they must think I looked like an idiot who didn’t know what she was doing.

I stood to leave and the boys held the door open for me. I shook their hands as we waited out on the sidewalk.

“Thanks for meeting with The Review, I’ll be sure to send a draft of the article to your manager once it’s done” I say, side stepping to hail a cab.

“Yeah no problem” Johnson replied breezily.

At this point I was just dying to get out of here and into a taxi where I never look back. I just want to get home, write this article, then forget I ever met them.

“Hey, I’ll be in touch about those photos” Gilinsky smirked as he leaned into the cab I was climbing into. Oh, right. I guess it’s not that easy. I waved goodbye as my taxi sped off, I glanced behind me and could still see and feel Gilinsky’s intense stare for blocks.

I leaned my head against the scratchy vinyl seats of the cab and exhaled deeply. Well that was incredibly awkward. At least the hard part is over. I arrive at my apartment and set all of my things down on the bar. I slump onto my couch to take a breather. My phone pinged with a notification, so I unlocked it to see the little “1″ on my mail app. There in bold letters was an e-mail “From: Jack Gilinsky”

Hey y/n,

I’ve attached the headshots that you needed, let me know if you need any others.

It was great meeting you today, take care.

-Jack Gilinsky

Phew. There it was. A strictly professional e-mail just following up with what we had discussed, nothing weird. This is fine, all of that was in my head and I don’t have to see his god-like face again. I will be flustered no more! Then I scrolled and saw it.

P.S.

If you’re wanting to know more about my current dating life, a private interview can be arranged. Be in touch xxx.

And there it was. In small print at the bottom of his perfectly professional e-mail. a “P.S.” A post script. P.S. never adds anything good to a letter. It’s where you add everything you really want to say, or is too hard/risque to say in the main body of the letter. An offer to meet him, privately. Why did he have to bold the world private? Why three kisses at the end? That is what “x, x, x” stands for. Maybe he’s just being sociable after his time in Europe. That’s probably what it is, this wasn’t meant to be anything and I don’t have to do anything about it. I’ve got what I need to finish my assignment and that’s the end of it.

Right?