With his head down, Blaine made a beeline for the door of the newspaper, realizing too late that there was a pair of Sid boots standing in his way. He nearly tripped on them, his shoulder brushing roughly against the ribs of the person in the boots. "Sorry," he mumbled, probably not loud enough for the person to hear him, and went out the door anyway.
Climbing into his car, he glanced back at the building, catching a glimpse of the person—a man, a very good looking man—still standing just inside the door. The guy looked vaguely familiar, but Blaine couldn't place where he'd seen him before. He shrugged it off, heading down the street to the HR office.
The forms he had to fill out were pretty cut and dry, asking for all his personal information. This allowed his mind to wander as he sat in the uncomfortable chairs, thoughtlessly supplying his dad with all the information he already knew.
Who was that guy? he mused to himself. He was cute. Like, super cute. And he didn't look that much older than me. Five years at the most. I wonder if I knew him in high school. Probably not. I didn't know anyone in high school, really, and no one knew me. That's part of why I was so eager to get out of there and head to L.A. Not like that really worked out well for me; here I am anyway, filling out paperwork for the newspaper and living with my parents. A real winner I am.
He shook himself. Now was not the time to be thinking like that. Was he exactly where he wanted to be? No. Definitely not. No one was making movies in the middle of Ohio, least of all him. Was he doing okay, though? Yeah. In the grand scheme of things, he was. He was making money now that he was working as a junior reporter, he had a roof over his head and food to eat, and he had a car and the opportunities to make himself into more than what he was if he wanted to. So, why was he feeling so low about all this?
"All set?" the clerk, Ryder, asked when he went back over to drop the paperwork off. Ryder had been a year behind him in high school and had, apparently, not gotten out of Lima either.
"All set," Blaine confirmed, handing over the clipboard.
"Are you doing okay? You seemed a little lost to the world over there."
"I'm fine."
"How's your family doing? How's your brother?"
"They're fine. Coop is doing well, too. He and his fiancé are getting married next year. They're pretty excited."
"Great! Glad to hear it."
"Yep." This was what Blaine hated the most about small towns: gossip and pointless chatter. Ryder didn't really care about how his family was doing. He didn't really want to know if Blaine was okay. He just wanted to fill the quiet while he checked over the paperwork to make sure everything was good to go. Blaine would have preferred to stand there in silence.
"Well, everything looks good on my end," Ryder finally confirmed after a few excruciating minutes. "Was there anything else I could do for you?"
"No. I think that was all. Is there anything I need to take back to the news office to prove my paperwork is done?"
"Nope. I'll fax over what they need by the end of the day or early tomorrow. You can tell Joel that if he asks."
"...okay." It was strange for Blaine to hear his dad called by his first name, and it took him a moment to figure out who Ryder could even be talking about.
"You know, I'm surprised you're back here, working for the paper. I know we didn't really interact in high school, but I remember your senior interview in the yearbook was full of dreams for L.A. You went to school out there, didn't you? What happened?"
Blaine waved his hand, dismissing the questions. "It's a long story, one I'm sure you don't want to hear."
"Actually, I've got no—"
"Sorry. I've got to get back to the paper; I don't have time to get into it. Maybe some other time." His heart clinched at the thought of having to talk about L.A. at all. It was a bad dream he desperately wished he could forget, but he knew the chances of keeping it a secret from everyone were pretty slim. Sooner or later, some of the details would get out, and he'd have to deal with the looks of sympathy and all the "poor Blaine; how awful" questions and comments he'd get. Today wasn't that day, though, and while he felt bad about cutting Ryder off, he did need to get out of there. "I'll hit you up for a lunch date soon. I really do have to go, though. Sorry." He smiled apologetically. "Bye, Ryder."
"Bye."
It didn't take Blaine long to get back out to his car and drive the few blocks back to the newspaper. Once he'd found a parking spot, he took a few deep breaths, centering himself for going back in and starting work. His dad had mentioned a new photographer being brought on staff. Blaine hoped they were nice since it sounded like they'd be working closely together, at least for a while. Maybe they would turn out to not be from Lima, and they could turn into a friend, a real friend who had no background in Blaine Anderson and what he'd been like in high school or had been through in the last eight years. Maybe something good would actually come out of working for his dad at the paper.
Once he felt calm and clear-headed, he stepped out of his car, squared his shoulders, and walked into the building, trying to find that air of confidence and belonging he wanted to give off to the new photographer.
"He back there?" he asked Tina as he walked by her desk, jabbing a thumb in the direction of his father's office.
"Uh, yeah. He is, but he's got…"
Blaine didn't stick around to hear the rest. He walked down the hallway, sticking his head around the door without knocking. "Hey, Dad?"
His father's voice stopped, and he looked up at him sharply, surprised to see his son.
"Everything's filed. I was just checking to see if the ne—" He cut off as he caught sight of a pair of sparkling blue eyes looking at him from a chair in front of his father's desk. His gaze became glued to that perfect, handsome face, and his breath caught in his throat. He thought he could hear the other man gasp, but he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he could no longer speak. All he could do was stare.