The second I’d taken his hand, he’d made me follow him out of the office and told me he had to run off to a Press Conference.
“I’d take you with me,” he’d said, looking apologetic, “but it’s only ten minutes away and I don’t have time to prep you properly. Not on your first day of the job, anyway.”
“I learn fast, sir,” I’d vowed. The idea of being part of a real-life press conference… being so close to power is an opportunity most people would kill for.
“Nevertheless, I don’t want to overwhelm you.” He’d tapped me comfortingly on the arm. “Tell you what, how about you go pick me up a triple mocha hazelnut latte, sweetie?”
I’d nodded quickly, eager to please my new boss. But how was I to know that this place was an actual maze? I assume there must be a cafeteria somewhere around here. But there are no signs or directions to indicate exactly where it might be.
My phone buzzes. I covertly smuggle it out from my pocket and glance at it.
Lacey Smith: hope your first day is going well! wishing you luck xxx
Lacey Smith is my best friend. She’s the only other person apart from Trevor and my dad that I’ve been able to stay in contact regularly with for the last few years.
However hard I’ve neglected my social life and focused on my studies, Lacey has always tried harder to be my friend. I’ll always be grateful to her for that.
I type a message back, despite being so helplessly lost.
Veronica Waters: It’s been a bit stressful. But I’ll tell you all about it later.
Somehow I find myself back in reception. A new woman, with hair even blonder and straighter, has replaced Rebecca as if by magic.
As much as I loathe asking for help, I eventually cave. It makes me feel like an idiot, but at least I’ll be able to get Mr Andrews his drink.
“The cafeteria? It’s just down the hall,” the receptionist tells me. I can see the judgement in her eyes. She probably has me figured out as some good-for-nothing nobody. Or worse, an intern. “Just down the hall, and then to your left, and then your right, and then take the fourth corridor going upwards and turn again.”
When I eventually find the cafeteria, it takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust. It looks absolutely alien to the kinds of cafeterias that I came across in high school and college. Gone are the grimy floors covered in half-eaten food and strands of hair. The White House cafeteria is all shiny leather chairs and freshly pressed tablecloths. Why had I ever expected anything different?
The queue is fairly long, but standing in it is at least a brief reprieve from being lost. At least I know what I’m doing.
But when I finally have Mr Andrews’ triple quadruple hazle-whatever in my hands, the next problem in my life rears its ugly head. Where am I supposed to go with it?
The Press Secretary’s office sits in the West Wing. So heading west is probably a good idea, then. But where exactly is that?
Perhaps I’ll be able to get a better understanding of the building’s layout if I step outside. I head out of the cafeteria, searching for an exit. When one appears, I take it without hesitation.
The open sky greets me cheerily. I take a deep breath, taking in the fresh air. I’ve barely been a White House intern for two hours and yet it already feels like much longer than that. So much has happened.
I look around, trying to work out where I’ve come out of. I’ve never seen the White House from this angle before. The area is fairly secluded, with high stone walls surrounding me and grass growing gently at my feet. Who knows where it might lead?
Still, I can’t afford to turn back. Mr Andrews’ coffee is growing cold with every moment I hesitate.
But as I pass further and further through the outdoor passageway, I start to grow worried. It only seems to stretch further and further without any sign of another entrance.
Maybe I should turn back. Maybe I’ve made a mistake.
“Damn it,” I whisper under my breath.
My first day - no, my first real hour - on the job and I’m already making errors. I hope Mr Andrews doesn’t think badly of me.
I turn on my heel and spin around, sighing as I do so. But instead of marching backwards…
I find myself with a face full of something.
“Mmphhh!” I scream, although it comes out more like a wail.
My legs give out from underneath me and the colors of the world around me spin. I’m half aware of myself toppling to the ground and half-aware of something else. Something unspeakably mortifying.
I’m not alone.
Someone is falling with me. Another human body hits mine and within seconds, it’s all over. Our legs are a jumbled mess, clashing and struggling against each other in a fight to stay upright.
My eyes are closed tight but I brace myself for pain. The moment before I hit the ground seems to draw itself out, stretching out longer and longer…
And longer…
And longer?
I open my eyes in confusion.
There’s a man on top of me.
A man who has his hands on my chest. Tightly.
Without thinking about it, I scream again.
“Hang on.” The man, it appears, has a voice. “Give me one second-”
Mercifully he extracts himself from me and rolls over, pushing himself onto his feet. I know I should move too… but it’s all I can do to lie there on the grass, blinking up at him. What just happened?
He offers me a hand. I stare at it. It’s another few seconds before I realize he’s asking me to take it.
I consider it for a moment, but then-
“My coffee!” I gasp, sitting upwards.
I look around frantically, searching for the cup. When I find it, it isn’t good news. I hope the grass was thirsty because it’s being treated to a nice hot serving of latte.
I groan.
“I don’t expect you have much of that coffee left,” the man says, following my gaze. “Now take my hand.”
It’s an order. But I shake my head disappointedly, pushing myself to my feet. Not only have I failed to get Mr Andrews’ coffee, but I’ve also managed to crash headfirst into another White House employee. It’s one thing to mess up yourself… and it’s another to be a liability towards others.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I say, pushing myself up with my own two hands. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”
But then I make a mistake. I look at him.
Holy shit.
It’s like looking at the sun. My natural instinct is to avert my eyes and look away for fear of being blinded. I can’t feel anything but disbelief. This man cannot be real. He has the type of face that looks like it belongs on a TV screen and nowhere else.
His dark hair looks freshly cut and styled, impossibly perfect in a way I am sure doesn’t just happen naturally. High, angled cheekbones cut across a smooth, slightly flushed complexion.
It’s his stormy grey eyes that pull me in the most. They stare at me, unblinkingly, like his entire world is waiting on my response.
His lips are pursed tightly. I swallow thickly, hanging my head. He’s angry with me.
“So, do you make a habit of pushing people to the ground?” he asks me, his voice cool.
“No, sir. I’m sorry. It’s my first day here and I’m lost,” I try to explain.
“Just be more careful next time,” he snaps.