Mr.OCD's Messy Assistant (Completed)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2
Sarah Jones POV

Officially I was late for work on my first day of the job.

Ironically, my resume claimed I am a very punctual person.

Hope they did not select me because of that because if they did, I will officially be the first person to retire on the same day I got hired. But I might set a new guinness world record.
Does not sound too bad if I put it like that.

I had to be there sharp at eight and now it was fifteen past eight.
Whilst running like a rabbit, I managed to catch a glimpse of a man inside the elevator as its door began to shut on my face.

"Hey, stop the elevator" I shouted to catch his attetion.

His gaze rose to pierce through my own but he stayed put as if set on a non responding mode. Realizing he wasn't making any attempt to stop the elevator, I screamed again.

"What the hell! Stop the elevator."

Sighing, he finally pressed the stop button. As the door opened wide, I sauntered in taking a sigh of relief. I took a side glance at him to give him a piece of my mind but his beauty caught me off guard. Wow.

He looked handsome. No. Not handsome, that is not the right word. Rather, he looked perfect.

Immaculately dressed in a crisp fitted black blazer and matching dress pants with a satin white shirt underneath, he is what would be rightfully defined as carved out of perfection. His suit was so ironed, I bet if I tried to find a single wrinkle there using a microscope, I would not be able to do so. The smooth crease free surface standing out against the confines and dips of his hard muscles laying beneath the teasing clothed exterior.

And his shoes, uhmm well ignorance is a bliss so let's ignore them. They were only making me self-conscious about my own dirt-laden heels. Does he buy new shoes for freaking 365 days of the year?

Then I glanced at his face. Flawlessly gelled black hair, not a single hair out of place. I repeat, not even a single hair out of place.
Wish I had brought a scarf to hide my bird's nest.

He had a perfectly straight nose, more than perfect hazel green eyes with perfectly long thick eyelashes with an all too perfect razor-sharp jawline.
Yeah, perfection everywhere.

Except his forehead, not that it was not perfectly structured, it was, but right now I could spot frowns adorning it.
Now that I was out of drooling over his perfection, I noticed that he was fisting his palms on his sides trying to control something. But what exactly? I could only think of three options.

1. He was so attracted to me that he was trying to control his, as I would label 'manly urges'. Why does he look so offended by the way. Wait, was I naked? I just glanced at myself to be sure. No. I huffed in the air. His loss.

2. Maybe I was stinking. That could explain his expressions. I even tried to sniff my armpits discreetly just to be sure. No man, I was not stinking.

3. Now, it had to be the third option. He was constipated.

Yeah! I won if I guessed it right.

Or maybe I lost, because the very next moment the mother earth or, in my case, the elevator tried to punish me. It shook and stopped.

Was it my fate to die on my first day of job? You see, I am not some creepy, overly emotional and sentimental person, but I had just watched Final Destination two days back, I had to be skeptical. I was scared of my unknown fate.

So, I did what immature people would do. I started crying.
"Uwahhh... Uwahhh"
"What would my babies do? What if I die here?"

Okay. I know I was overreacting, and my own crying sounds made me want to vomit. I sound so ridiculous when I cry.

"You have babies?"

The man next to me asked in his deeply perfect voice.

"Yeah, five babies."

He looked at me from head to toe. What is he trying to do?

"Hey, eyes on my face." I snapped.

"You do not look like a mother of five".

More crying.

"Does your husband work here?"

"I do not have a husband."

He probably chocked on air or his own spit. I have no idea why.

"But you have five kids."

Oh that. Oops.

"I meant my kittens."

Suddenly, I remembered something and started laughing. He looked at me, probably trying to figure out if I was some psychotic who had alternating crying and laughing fits.

"You know, in novels, if an elevator stops working and one of the lead roles has a panic attack, the other person kisses them to divert their attention."

He looked as if a a train had struck him down. Too dazed to express anything. Words definitely carry weight.

I bit my lip trying to control the heat that was radiating off my ears. Great way to embarrass myself in front of this epitome of perfection. What would he think of me? An attention seeker.

"How practical. I am impressed by your solution, Miss..."

Coughing away my embarrasment, I tried to indulge in a conversation with him.
"Sorry. By the way, I am Miss Jones."

I held my right hand in front of him to shake. His gaze shifted from my hand to my face and then back towards my hand.

Was he handless? Why was he taking so much time.
Finally, million years later, he took his hands out of his pocket.

Oh so he does have hands.
His hold tight, exhibiting strength.
And right after shaking my hands, he took what appeared to be a sanitizer out of his left pocket and sprayed his hands.

What the actual hell? Am I a virus? I so want to smack his head into the elevator door.

Freaking perfect neat freak!

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Author's Note
Thank you for reading.

Vote if you are late at work like our female lead Sarah.
Comment if you are always the punctual one.

P.S I am mostly punctual. But I think one of the cons of being punctual is you have to wait for those who are not.😂