~*JUNE*~
I've been standing outside Mr. Macaulay's office for a solid thirty minutes.
Well, not just standing—more like pacing back and forth like a nervous suspect waiting to be called in and absolutely ruined in an interrogation room.
My feet drag me in restless loops in front of Mr. Macaulay’s office door, while my eyes stay locked on the massive mahogany door.
The polished gold nameplate bearing the name Tristan Macaulay gleams under the overhead lights, its elegant engraving somehow making the whole thing even more intimidating.
Every time I try to knock, my stomach twists and my courage evaporates.
Fuck. I don't think I can do this.
I can't do it.
I can't walk into his office and speak to him.
I know exactly what will happen the second those grey eyes find mine.
My knees wi
