Our Way

“I’m not sure I would be able to work with you.”

My face falls. “Why not?”

“At the risk of being unprofessional, I have to tell you that I’m physically attracted to you.”

“Oh.” What the fuck? “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“I’ve never worked with someone I was attracted to before, have you?”

“Umm.” Jeez, this guy doesn’t mince his words.

“I’m very professional, and I’m in a relationship,” I lie. “You wouldn’t need to worry about that.”

He smiles to himself as if liking that. “Well, that makes things easier. I’m a professional, too.”

I clasp my hands in front of me.

He stares at me for a moment, as if assessing the situation. “I have one more person to interview this afternoon. I will let you know tonight, by email, if you have been successful.”

“Okay.” I smile.

He stands and holds out his hand to shake mine. “Goodbye, Dr. Morgan.”

“Call me Henry.”

I force a smile. Oh hell, this interview is weird. “Okay, Henry, I look forward to your email. Have a lovely weekend.”

“You, too.”

I turn and walk out of the room, not entirely sure what position it is that I’ve just applied for.

Who the fuck tells a person they are interviewing that they are attracted to them? What was that about?

I smile to the girls as I walk through reception. Does he tell them that he’s attracted to them, too? “Goodbye.”

“Bye.” They call.

I get into the elevator and shake my head. “Wow,” I whisper to myself.

Maybe he was just being honest. I mean, if he is a serial player or sleazeball, he wouldn’t say that to me in an interview, he would just perv on me while I worked.

I shrug. It takes all types, I suppose. I walk out of the building, across the street, and into the bar to find Nathan.

He’s sitting at a table in the back, scrolling through his phone with a glass of scotch in front of him.

“Hey.” I smile as I sit down.

He puts his phone down. “How did it go?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Fine, I guess. I find out tonight but the job sounds great.” I can’t elaborate on what Dr. Morgan said to me or Nathan will march into his office like a psycho. He’s a tad overprotective.

“What do you want to drink?” he asks.

I glance over the selection. “A glass of red, please.”

“Okay.” He gets up and disappears to the bar. I take out my phone and text my two best friends. These ones are my girls—the ones I tell everything.

Just got out of my interview.