The 2020 republican presidential frontrunner is an obnoxious, morally bankrupt people-pleaser, but what happens when you become the person he's most eager to please?
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❝WHEN THE SECRETARY OF STATE TELLS YOU TO CALL HIM BY HIS FIRST NAME, YOUR FIRST INSTINCT IS CERTAINLY NOT TO DO SO.❞
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THOMAS JEFFERSON WAS an arrogant, pompous prick. Holding an entire press conference just so he could make a big, irrelevant speech on making the world a better place was just about the most conceited thing a person could do. And the fact that he expected people to show up was another thing entirely.
The worst part was that so many people did.
And that was how one Y/N L/N found herself at the press conference of a man whose political views she absolutely despised, who she'd heard nothing but malice about from one of her best friends, and who she'd hated; his presence didn't make hate seem like such a strong word.
She was seriously regretting her decision to be a political journalist.
Yes, we get it, world peace, reducing poverty, bullshitting your way through a speech you probably wrote a night ago, she thought, now can we get to the questions?
She huffed as he began to continue to his next point, frantically scribbling down his every last word despite the knowledge that every line was drawing her closer to insanity.
Though, it wasn't long before she found that the brink of insanity was almost worth it. And it only took seven words.
He was nearing something that sounded like a conclusion. While Y/N hadn't perhaps understood the purpose of the public address, she was itching to get to questions, so she could finally gain the material needed for her article. For her first serious article.
But that was when he said it.
"So, with these noble goals in mind, I find that it is in our nations best interest if I step down from my position as Secretary of State." He cleared his throat, closing his eyes as though preparing himself for whatever was to come. "I'm stepping down to run for president."
A collective gasp ran over the crowd.
I'm stepping down to run for president.
There was a skip as everyone jotted the words down, a moment of quiet before all hell broke loose and everyone around her started pushing toward the stage, demanding answers to their countless questions. Yet, all she wanted was not to get trampled.
She clutched her camera tightly and hunched her shoulders to shield herself as Mr. Jefferson called for order, though he could hardly be heard over the conundrum of a crowd. Finally, the man snapped.
"Hey!" he yelled, an annoyed expression painting his face, before the cacophony faded, and Y/N found herself able to stand normally without fear of being down for the count. "No questions will be taken today," --Y/N's eyes widened-- "as we feel that the public should be given time to process the news."
