Chapter 5. We Won't Get Along

"Um, I, uh..." I went blank. "I, um, I am Shirley Hamilton, and I would—" I had gone blank, not knowing what to speak within two minutes, jumbling up all my words.

"You're not here for your interview," he cut in. "Come to the point." I scowled at him.

I took a sharp intake of air and said, "Can you please look at me while I'm talking to you?" It felt like I was talking to air this whole time.

I noticed him wriggling his brows before he let out, "Excuse me?"

"You're excused."

"Haha. Very funny." He faked a laugh and looked up to glare at me.

I smiled in satisfaction. "Now that's more like it."

He leaned his back against the chair and said, "Would you stop beating around the bush?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." I straightened up and thought of a way, to sum up, my needs in one sentence. "I want your time."

"Well, great. You can leave now. Because I don't sell time." Dylan rolled his eyes.

I slapped my f