Wow (LINT) (Key)
“HOW ARE YOU NOT GETTING IT.” He runs his hands through his choppy, peroxide bleached hair. “YOU ARE A MUSICIAN YOU SHOULD KNOW HOW TO SMILE IN A WAY THAT’S BOTH SHY AND BOLD.”
His face scrunches up as he glowers down at you, more disgusted than angry, really. You’ve come to be very familiar with it for the last couple of days.
Key is like one of those really committed method actors that remains in character all the time. Either that or this complete asshole is more successful than you just because he’s prettier than you, and you can’t handle that thought.
You force on smile. You’re aware it looks painful because KEY IS ACTUALLY THE MOST PAINFUL PERSON TO BE AROUND.
He puts his fingertips together and leans back in his incredibly comfortable looking armchair. You shift in your blue plastic seat. The company only cares your lumbar support if your net worth is more than a couple of million.
Key flips his hair and smirks at you. He sometimes pretends that he’s a renowned psychoanalyst during your sessions sometimes. “If I had to describe you in three words, it would be ‘holier than thou.’ That’s not healthy, _____. I don’t understand why the CFO thinks you’d be anything resembling something of a success. You’re pretty cute, but you’re not dynamic at all. NO SEX APPEAL. Nothing about you says you’re…”
You debuted just a few months ago, but you have 2 years of training under your belt. Dealing with unbelievable people is a second nature by now, but Key and his calculatedly kissable lips makes you want to just.
“Leave me. I can’t handle anymore of you.” OH GOD, like it’s his choice. THIS IS HIS PUNISHMENT FOR NOT HEEDING HIS ONEW’S WARNING.
You heave a large, exaggerated sigh, collect your things, and add in an indignant eye roll just to be safe. No sex appeal. Hah. You’re sexy. Definitely sexy. You have lady parts, which is probably all Key looks for in a girl.
You’re about to close the door when you decide to channel your inner Beyonce. A smile crosses your lips, a sincere one, but you suppress it. You pull up your skirt just a little bit, scrunch your hair, and push the door open.
You smile, softly. “Hey… Key?” adorable and vulnerable. You bit your lip and walk across the blue carpeted floor. You stop at the other side of his desk. You wanna gag at how infantile your voice sounds, but most guys dig it.
He stands, one hand in his pocket, chin sort of raised, daring you to do something.
You slide one thigh onto the desk so you’re half-sitting on his precious oak desk. Damn, the acrylic finish is nice. What did he do, sell his grandmother’s soul?
You widen your eyes, smile, and pull on his total Republican tie. He leans in, a cocky playing on his lips.
His face is just a couple of inches away. He has really long, eyelashes.
You tilt your head, and he follows suit. You run one hand up his arms. They’re almost boyish.
You lean in a little bit more, surprising yourself. This is the part where you walk away, self-satisfied, leaving a crying Key crumbled in the ground with a nosebleed.
His lips brush against yours, and you can hear your heart beat in your ears. His lips are soft and warm and he puts on hand on the small of your back and pulls you in closer and -
You pull away, dazed.
Key looks surprised.