FicWad

I sat in my cramped little cubicle at work, staring listlessly at my computer and strumming out random strings on my bass guitar. I'd already finished all of my articles for next week's issue of Graphic Noise and now I had absolutely nothing better to do.
"Perk up kid, don't look so bored," the resident photographer, Adam, popped his head over the side of the cubicle that connected mine to his. He climbed on top of his desk and hopped over the wall into my cubicle. He wore the usual black beanie over his messy brown hair, a black Hawthorne Heights hoodie, ripped jeans, and checkered Vans shoes.
I blushed and pushed my chair back a little to make more room for him. "I already finished all of my articles..." Great, another chance to totally embarrass myself.
"Yeah, I figured that much," he pushed me and my chair off to the right and started messing around with my laptop. I sat there blushing like crazy and biting my lip. "Here we go," he stepped back from the computer.
I looked at the website he had pulled up. It was for UnderRated, the band he played guitar and sang back up in. Adam clicked a media player and one of the band's songs started playing. I listened to it for a minute. The music had a hardcore drum beat with lightening quick guitars and a steady bass. Adam's voice was amazing and his lyrics were awesome.
"It's nice..." I could have kicked myself. Who are you kidding? You love UnderRated, and yet all you have to say is "It's nice."
Adam looked a little hurt, and I wanted to seriously throw myself out of the window. "Nice? That's it?" he asked.
I could feel my cheeks burning crimson. /Say something, say something.../But the words wouldn't come.
"We have a gig Saturday, if you want to come see us," Adam even sounded hurt. "But if you don't, that's OK too."
I sucked in a big breath of air, "I'm sorry...I like your music..." I swallowed. The office felt like it was 100 degrees and my hands were shaking. "I'll see what I'm doing Saturday."
Adam looked way happier than he did a few seconds ago, "OK, I'll print you out a flyer with the info." And with that, he shoved his hands in his hoodie and walked away.
I closed my eyes, leaned back in my chair, and groaned. /Idiot, idiot, idiot.../I sighed and started strumming on my bass again. My cheeks were still red and burning.
"Hey you," now it was my boss's turn.
"Hi Zack," I mumbled.
Zack had black hair with red streaks randomly scattered throughout it. He was wearing a black and white striped shirt and black faded jeans. He rolled his eyes, "So much for a warm welcome for your boss." He smirked.
I bit my lip. "I'm done with all of my articles for the next issue."
Zack smiled, "For being so shy, you sure do get a lot of work done."
I blushed: I didn't really like people pointing out my shyness. It was OK when Miranda did it, because she was my best friend. She knows my whole past and everything. She understands me, most of the time. Other people just saw my shyness issue as some mental problem, and it didn't make me want to talk to them anymore.
"I don't understand how you get through interviews," Zack ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up all over the place.
I shook my head, "With a lot of mental brain kicking and deep breaths." Oh shoot, did I just say that? Judging by Zack's goofy smile, I'd say I did.
"Wow, two months and I finally got sarcasm out of you! And it was in one sentence!" Zack smiled widely at me. "So it really is you who types those articles, not your alter ego."
"Writing is easier than speaking for me," I turned back to my computer, forgetting that I had left the UnderRated website up. I hope he doesn't think I'm slacking off.
Zack shook his head, "I see Adam was assaulting your mind with more UnderRated. Jeez, that kid never shuts up about that band." He paused, expecting an answer from me, which I didn't give. "So, um yeah, I got another interview for you."
I closed out of the website and propped my bass up against my desk. "Who's it this time?"
"You're never going to guess who!" Zack smiled like a kid in a candy shop. I didn't offer any guesses. "Oh come on Rory, just give it a shot. It's not like you won't get the interview if you don't get it right."
I sighed and thought for a moment, "Is it someone from October Fall?" They're in the area this month. Oh great, that means it's another fantastic interview in this cramped little warehouse we like to call our office.
Zack smiled more, if that was possible for him to do without stretching his face to the breaking point, "Nope, but you're close. Think of the record label."
"Decaydance?" I thought for a little bit more. OK, I'm sick of doing this.
"That's the label," Zack was oblivious to how old the guessing game was getting.
"That's the only Decaydance band in the area," I said.
Zack laughed, "And what makes you think the interview is live?" I shrugged my shoulders. "Alright, I can see I'm scaring you back into the shell, so I'll just spill before you revert to not talking in complete sentences."
I sighed, grateful he was giving it a rest.
"Well, he doesn't normally do this type of thing, but word got to him about Graphic Noise at a concert," Zack paused for a dramatic effect. "And since you happened to be at that concert, I thought you should have the honor of doing the interview through AOL instant messenger." Zack smiled proudly, as if he had just delivered me the news of a lifetime.
And then it clicked. The concert. Miranda told Fall Out Boy about Graphic Noise. "Who is it from Fall Out Boy?" I asked Zack.
"The one and only Peter Wentz!"