“Do you have your manuscript with you today?” Mr Frost asked, the sun shone off his honey blonde hair, almost like silk.

“Yes, I did,” I answered, opening my purse and taking out my manuscript and passing it to him.

“It doesn’t look like a lot of pages here, Ms. Teagan,” He says as his eyes turn to confusion.

“Yes, well it’s not completely finished but that is everything I have so far,” I explained, trying not to admit defeat by writer's block.

“So you're starting it off, that’s not a bad thing, it means there's always room for improvement.” He says while slowly reading through what I have written.

I fidget with my hands as I wait for him to be finished, I didn’t want to rush him yet the silence was deafening.

Nervous, I chewed the inside of my cheek. The only sounds were the seagulls and the waves crashing onto the shore.

He looked up at me for a moment. His blue eyes were the same color as the ocean.

Then continued to read the rest.

About an half hour of reading he finally finishes and puts the manuscript onto his desk, then folds his hands together and makes eye contact with me.

“You can breathe you know,” He says half jokingly.

I let out an exasperated sigh not realizing I'd been holding my breath on and off for the entire half hour.

“Now, time for some questions,” He says, clicking something onto his computer.

“What inspired you to become a writer?” Mr. Frost asks

“I’m good with words, and I enjoy creating my own worlds, any way I see fit, there are no ‘Boundaries’,” the words flew out of my mouth without thinking about them.

He nods at my answer writing it down on his computer.

“What comes first when you write, The Plot or the Characters?” He places a hand on his barely stubbled chin.

“The characters create the plot. I'm just writing out their story,” I replied, blushing at how ridiculous that might sound.

“Can you elaborate?” Frost was intrigued by my answer.

“It’s like the characters created themselves and the story, all I do is write it out.” I say as I explain my reasoning.

“I never heard that answer before, '' he mutters entertainly to himself, continuing with copying things down.

“Is that a good thing?” I inquired nervously, wringing my hands together underneath my purse where he couldn't see.

“Well, it's not a bad thing,” He says, teasing me softly.

Holding my black purse to my chest as he looked through what I presume is my answers to his questions, I sat patiently as I took in his more serious demeanor, his heart-shaped lips were in a straight line, as his brows furrowed while he thought about something making his eyes like pools of water.

His short, yet spiked hair looked like strands of honey gold placed gently on his head as his navy blue suit brought his whole assembly together.

“Are you analyzing me, Ms. Teagan?” He asked, giving me a side glance as he continued to look through his files.

“Oh uh, no sorry,” I say looking away my face turned red as if he caught me in the act, I fumbled with the hem of my sundress, the color nearly matched his eyes.

“Your a writer, Ms. Tegan, you're supposed to analyze everything, that's what makes you describe the things you see, like a blue ocean that turns into the same color as the sky, or how the sun reflects off the water, just right as the waves come in,” He explains with a sigh.

He picked up a pen and taped it against his desk, before he spoke again.

“How do you handle writer’s block?” He asked as he leaned back into his office chair.

“I usually take a walk, just around the neighborhood until one of my characters gives me an idea,” I say with a small smile, as he bit the top of the pen as he listened to my answer.

“What happens if you get inspiration while you're out and you need to write it down so you don't forget?” Mr. Frost questioned, I took out a small notepad and brought it up enough to show him the cover.

“I use my notepad for notes and then when I get home, or I guess in this case here, I would type it all up when I get back,” I reply, taking a breath starting to ease more as the questions just turned into a regular conversation.

“We are a romance publishing company so there is a chance of some erotic scenes, how do you handle emotionally draining ‘Sexy’ or ‘depressing’ kinds of scenes, how do you get in the mood to write in those ways?” He addressed, placing the pen down, and placing his hand against his chin, his pointer finger against his lips as he awaited my answer.

“I just write whatever feels good, it's more of the after effect I deal with,” I say slowly.

“Alright, well how do you deal with the after effects of an emotionally draining scene?” Mr. Frost rephrased.

“Sometimes I got to re-read the scene and have a cup of coffee and perhaps take a little break to recall myself some time before returning to write,” I clarified my schedule.

“How long would these ‘breaks’ typically last for?” He sat up more, pulling his seat closer to his desk.

“Just long enough to recollect my thoughts,” I say thinking.

He gestures his head up and down, as he has both hands on the computer’s keyboard with his fingers tapping absently at the keys recognizing my answer.

He finished typing and took a moment to look at his watch, then looked up and smiled at me.

I smiled, back wondering if this was the end of our interview as he passed me back my manuscript.

Now thinking about it he didn't really say much about what he thought of my starting out novel, pondering in my own thoughts I haven’t realized he had stood up and began to fix his suit,

“How do you feel about chicken alfredo?” He questioned with a smile on his face.

Taken back momentarily at the random question I replied with, “It’s good I guess,”

“Great, let’s go. It’s lunch time.” He says laughing a little.

“I wouldn’t want to impose on your lunch break Mr. Frost,” I say feeling shy.

“Don’t be ridiculous, our interview isn’t over yet,” he says, gesturing me out of his office and shutting the door behind him.

We walked back towards the elevator down the hall. The grainy beige wall paper almost made me want to touch the rough exterior.

“Do you like our layout Ms. Tegan?” He pondered slyly.

“Yes sir, it's very fancy,” I say looking around as if I haven’t already.

“Our EA has a good taste in interior design, don’t you think?” he asked, thinking for a moment.

“It looks to be that way, the way you and Vivienne describe him,” I reply with a small smile.

“Yes, well she's a few short from the rest, which you may learn soon,” He says, cringing a little.

He pressed the down button as we waited longingly for the elevator.

“I hate to ask this of you, but when is your birthday?” He stood there with high hands in his pockets.

“My birthday?” I repeated halfway in a daze.

“Yes, the date you were born,” He laughed awkwardly as I snapped back to reality.

“It’s May 31st,” I say as I blinked away the feeling of a daze pulling me back, I must be tired today. I thought to myself as the sound of the elevator made itself known it had arrived.

I walked stiffly into the elevator, and Mr. Frost followed.

“I’m not making you… Uncomfortable, am I?” I shook my head, my eyes shut tight as he stood to the farther side of the elevator.

“No, I'm sorry I haven’t gotten much sleep since I got your email to meet with you, I was too excited.” I explained truthfully, with a small smile.

“Should we cut our interview short, then?” He asked more seriously now, I swallowed and shook my head.

“No Sir, I’ll be fine.” I assured him, I didn’t want him to think of me as incompetant.

“I wanted you to meet the EA of the company, I figured it would be the most efficient way to get to know you and your intentions with our company. -And I’m tired of asking all the questions,” He muttered the last part as quietly to himself as possible.

I smiled slyly to my self as I realized what Mr. Frost’s intentions were with the interview at least, not that I’d make it known of course.

“Oh, I told you my birthday, when is yours?” I poked the question at him, as he seemed a bit taken back.

“You can’t ask a girl those kinds of questions and then not tell her yours, it's bad manners you know,” I teased back, he's been doing that to me on and off the entire interview.

“No, it's just you were so dazed and confused I didn’t think you heard me,” He chuckled before he continued.

“It’s October twelfth, but usually when I ask that question people don't ask me the same question.” He says with a sigh.