Evan turned the corner, with some confidence in his step, as he adjusted his shoulder bag slightly. He sipped at his hot cappuccino though the plastic spill-proof lid as his eyes rolled upwards towards the sky. It was a bright and crisp morning that didn’t require a jacket, but the hot coffee was still a welcome help.

He was making his way to Lombardi Street, a new fashion start-up that was probably younger than the shoes on his feet at that moment. He had walked the route the day before, just to make sure he knew where it was so he wouldn’t be late on his first day. He had just moved to the city less than a week ago, his flat still filled with half packed boxes, and he was still getting his bearings on the city. This part of town appeared to be an old warehouse district, but had a distinct about to be very trendy feel to it as start-ups and new restaurants seemed to be moving in by the minute. His flat wasn’t real close, but still walkable.

He tugged at his sleeve, pulling it down to his wrist, then after a moment he pushed it back up to his forearm. He was unsure of which looked better, as he fiddled a third time with his white, waffle pattern textured shirt. As he adjusted the sleeve again, some coffee popped out of the tiny drinking hole and Evan quickly danced to one side to make sure the drops didn’t land on him. It would surely stand out on the white shirt, or even the grey tweed pants that were accidently a perfect color match to his canvas shoulder bag.

First days were always awkward, especially for him. He was always slightly socially awkward to begin with, and he always had the lingering feeling that no matter what room he walked into, someone would know who he was. It was rarely an outright recognition, but that sideways glance, followed by the occasional question: you look familiar, what college did you go to?

It had subsided greatly over the past few years, but he never knew how to answer the question. UCLA… no, you don’t look familiar to me… I sure we haven’t met before.

Those things in his past seemed like so long ago, a time he'd now like to forget.

Evan walked up to the entrance of Lombardi Street. It was hard to miss, the big glass doors with the purposefully minimalist logo emblazoned across it.

He pulled the door open, then stepped aside as three very fast walking employees barged out. “New employee orientation?” he asked, but they didn’t stop or indicate they heard him. He walked into a cacophony of noise and action, with people walking fast in every direction, looking like they had been there for hours already, even though it was only 8:30AM.

He walked cautiously into the space, the old wooden floorboards flexing under his feet. He was worried he’d walk into the path of any one of the many people darting about, all looking like they were on a mission of such importance, the future of the company depended on them being somewhere right away.

“Excuse me…” that group didn’t stop either. He walked over toward the desks that were set up in the all open work environment. “New employee orientation?” He asked like a little kid asking a shop owner how much the candy costs, while looking down a few crumpled bills in his hand.

The person didn’t look up from his laptop, but extended his arm and pointed. His other hand never stopped typing. In the corner was an all glass conference room, with about 15 people assembling inside. Evan made his way, making sure not to interrupt the flow of fast walkers, and once again tugging at his sleeves, only to push them back up again. He reached the door.

“Hi, you’re just in time…” the guy standing at the front of the room said. His sentence trailed off and he snapped his fingers in the air, indicating that he wanted Evan to introduce himself.

“Evan, I’m going to be working in marketing.”

“Evan, thanks for joining us. Take a seat, we’ll start in a moment.” The man enjoyed a light yellow sweater with the shirt underneath untucked and sticking out. A look Evan was never able to pull off. He looked around the long table, and only one chair was open. His choice was made for him.

He plopped down in the Herman Miller Aeron chair, and set his shoulder bag on the floor next to him. Setting the cappuccino onto the table in front of him, and he turned to the woman sitting next to him.

“Hi, I’m Evan.”

That is the basic story idea. What is it about him, his past? We can figure that hook out and incorporate it into the story. Maybe each of them have something they are trying to leave behind, something that ultimately draws them together?

I have a profile posted at DPPProfiles if you want to see more about my writing style, etc.

I prefer to RP via email, but it's not a must.