Tomlinson Designs

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Samantha Anderson

I held onto the notebook, hands shaking. I've never really considered myself to be a particularly nervous person. Today, however, I was a crumbling ball of anxiety. My stomach was in knots and I felt physically ill. It was nearing on embarrassing, although I don't think anyone saw me nearly trip on my heels as I was walking in.

At least, I hope to God above no one saw me.

Damn, that would be a fantastic way to start.  

I was beginning an internship with a massive fashion company after graduating with a degree in design and style. I was definitely not the classy woman that most expected in a place like this, but I sure could play the part. 

A man approached me. He had dark hair, all flying up in a styled manner. He wore a sleek navy suit with gold accents and a content facial expression. He exuded confidence and I recognized him almost immediately: Louis Tomlinson. 

"Hello, Mr. Tomlinson," I smiled, hoping I appeared calmer than I felt. I put my shaking hand out to grasp his large, muscular one. How the heck did someone have muscular hands?

Mr. Tomlinson was the CEO and head designer at Tomlinson Designs. He was a big deal and I could hardly believe I was meeting him on my very first day. More often then not, interns did not meet CEOs so the very fact that I was meeting with him spoke volumes about his company and his character. It also did a number on my nerves and anxiety.

This man controlled my paycheck and one slip up would pretty much boot me out. Mr. Tomlinson did not need me; however, I sure as hell needed him. 

"Hello, Ms.," he looked at his notes, searching for my name. He as holding a large portfolio, "Anderson! Welcome to Tomlinson Designs, we're excited to have you!"

"Thank you so much, I'm absolutely, thrilled to be here," I grinned, feeling my body relax a bit at his comforting gaze. He easily led me across the waiting room and towards his office. He gestured for me to take a seat in one of the leather chairs that sat in front of his desk. His office was, in one word, impeccable. The walls were clear glass, looking out across Soho with furniture that was all leather and a dark desk made of cherry wood. His office was nicer than my apartment.

It likely also costed a hell of a lot more. Designs were hung up all around the walls, with mannequins sitting in one end of the office. All of these helped show the creative aspect of his job beyond just his job as a CEO. 

"So, you're interested in men's and women's design?" he asked, looking through my application. His fingers traced the words, obviously looking intently at my hard worked application. I'd spent hours pouring over it, so it was pleasant to see him actually caring about it.

"Yes, um, during my time at NYU for my undergrad we had to do some work with men's fashion so I got really interested, although I typically worked in women's. Then, when I got accepted to Parsons for my M.A. I guess it just sort of stuck with me," I explained, probably sounding like I was rambling. A nervous Samantha equalled a very, very talkative one. 

"Very, very impressive. I see why we hired you," he grinned, referring to my credentials. "Well, you will be starting out as an assisting intern, for now. Which means you will be working alongside me, acting as more of an assistant than anything. My usual assistant is on maternity leave at this time so you will be filling in for her on top of classic intern duties: coffee runs, making copies, et cetera. I also hope to see you do some on-hands designing, just to gain the necessary experience you're looking for."

I nodded my head, overjoyed. He continued, "And, hopefully, if you do well, you will be brought on as a full-time, well-paid employee, but, like the rest of us, now is the time to pay your dues."

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