asked her the typical questions and she gave them the typical responses, ones that she had rehearsed time and time again, ones that she had given plenty of times to plenty of panels like them. Despite her experience in interviews she still struggled, feeling tense, like she was going to explode in a fit of hysterics at any moment. She maintained her calm though and did her best not to look like the wreck she knew she was.
She warmed up as the interview progressed, felt a little more human when it came to a head. By the time it was over, when they asked her their final questions, then asked, as they all did, if she had anything to ask them -- the one question that usually stumped her, and one she usually responded to with a polite smile and a shake of her head -- the interview was over. They seemed happy with her, Shirley didn’t know if that was because the competition -- like the crazy woman with the short legs and loud smile -- were useless or because her practiced manner had won them over.
They seemed ready to offer her the job but stopped short their eagerness when they noted the apprehension on her face.
“Why don’t you have a look around, mingle a little bit if you want,” the main questioner said. He checked his watch with a smile and a flick of his wrist. “Most of the staff will be starting their dinner break around now, so you can talk to them, get it straight from the horses’s mouth,” he said with a grin, adding, “you can make yourself a coffee in the break room if you’d like.”
Shirley nodded. “I might just do that,” she said. If she wasn’t going to take the job she didn’t really think anything would change her mind, but after the morning tension, she felt like she needed a coffee.
She shook their hands, left them with pleasant smiles and then shifted out of the room. The remaining tension rushed out of her like air from a deflating ballon. She sagged into a hunchback, groaned delightedly and grinned.
There was only one person inside the kitchen. A man sitting alone, looking boredly into a steaming cup of coffee. She thought it was the same man she had seen when she walked past, the broad back hunched over the counter. He was thickly set, his biceps prominent through a slim fitting blue shirt that hugged his muscles. He looked up at her when she entered, smiled broadly. She melted. She didn’t know if it was because her heart was still beating fast, if it was because she was still deflating from the tense interview and he was the first man she had seen since returning to normality, but as soon as she set eyes on him she couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t stop admiring him. He had a gorgeous smile, handsome with the right amount of mischief that curled the corners of his lips and indented a slight dimple on his right cheek. His dark eyes were deep and suggestive. He was a good ten years younger than her, but his stubbled chin and rough, wavy hair suggested a hard working, hard living man.
She sat down opposite, her eyes never leaving his.
“Hey,” he grinned.
She tried to reply but her words caught in her throat, she just smiled instead.
“Coffee?” he asked after a few moments of silent staring.
She snapped out of her trance, nodded and then moved to drink her coffee, before realizing she hadn’t actually made any. She stood up, but he bolted up before her and held out a hand.
“Allow me,” he said, gesturing for her to sit as he wandered over to a coffee machine.
“One sugar or two?” he asked as she stared at his broad back, at the way the cotton fabric of his shirt seemed to stick to his muscles.
“None, please.”
He looked at her over his shoulder, gave her a cheeky wink, “Sweet enough, eh?”
She nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. She tried to tone it down with a smile.
He came back to the table, put the cup down in front of her. She wrapped her palms around it, thanked
She warmed up as the interview progressed, felt a little more human when it came to a head. By the time it was over, when they asked her their final questions, then asked, as they all did, if she had anything to ask them -- the one question that usually stumped her, and one she usually responded to with a polite smile and a shake of her head -- the interview was over. They seemed happy with her, Shirley didn’t know if that was because the competition -- like the crazy woman with the short legs and loud smile -- were useless or because her practiced manner had won them over.
They seemed ready to offer her the job but stopped short their eagerness when they noted the apprehension on her face.
“Why don’t you have a look around, mingle a little bit if you want,” the main questioner said. He checked his watch with a smile and a flick of his wrist. “Most of the staff will be starting their dinner break around now, so you can talk to them, get it straight from the horses’s mouth,” he said with a grin, adding, “you can make yourself a coffee in the break room if you’d like.”
Shirley nodded. “I might just do that,” she said. If she wasn’t going to take the job she didn’t really think anything would change her mind, but after the morning tension, she felt like she needed a coffee.
She shook their hands, left them with pleasant smiles and then shifted out of the room. The remaining tension rushed out of her like air from a deflating ballon. She sagged into a hunchback, groaned delightedly and grinned.
There was only one person inside the kitchen. A man sitting alone, looking boredly into a steaming cup of coffee. She thought it was the same man she had seen when she walked past, the broad back hunched over the counter. He was thickly set, his biceps prominent through a slim fitting blue shirt that hugged his muscles. He looked up at her when she entered, smiled broadly. She melted. She didn’t know if it was because her heart was still beating fast, if it was because she was still deflating from the tense interview and he was the first man she had seen since returning to normality, but as soon as she set eyes on him she couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t stop admiring him. He had a gorgeous smile, handsome with the right amount of mischief that curled the corners of his lips and indented a slight dimple on his right cheek. His dark eyes were deep and suggestive. He was a good ten years younger than her, but his stubbled chin and rough, wavy hair suggested a hard working, hard living man.
She sat down opposite, her eyes never leaving his.
“Hey,” he grinned.
She tried to reply but her words caught in her throat, she just smiled instead.
“Coffee?” he asked after a few moments of silent staring.
She snapped out of her trance, nodded and then moved to drink her coffee, before realizing she hadn’t actually made any. She stood up, but he bolted up before her and held out a hand.
“Allow me,” he said, gesturing for her to sit as he wandered over to a coffee machine.
“One sugar or two?” he asked as she stared at his broad back, at the way the cotton fabric of his shirt seemed to stick to his muscles.
“None, please.”
He looked at her over his shoulder, gave her a cheeky wink, “Sweet enough, eh?”
She nodded, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. She tried to tone it down with a smile.
He came back to the table, put the cup down in front of her. She wrapped her palms around it, thanked
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