After fixing my hair and climbing out of my car, I check myself in the window’s reflection and straighten out my clothes. I can’t walk into a possible job interview with wrinkled clothes and mussed up hair.
The slight burn in my scalp follows me inside, but I ignore it and look around.
“Fiona.”
I turn and my eyes land on a familiar face.
“Chris?”
He smiles and holds out a hand, saying, “Hey, Isla told me you were looking for a job, and I happen to be looking for some help.”
“You’re who I’m meeting?” I ask, shocked. I haven’t seen Chris in years. We’d been good friends when we were kids but had drifted apart due to our interests. I try to think back to the last time we talked but can’t remember when it was.
Chris chuckles. I smile. Isla always thought we would be a cute couple,
