After he turned his back on me, I stood there, frozen in place.
I hoped—prayed—that he'd turn back, look at me with anything, even pity, if it meant he'd show mercy and give me the job.
I couldn't bring myself to turn around and head home. Suzette was probably waiting, ears perked for good news, and how could I face her with tears in my eyes again?
Finally, when he was out of sight, I fought the urge to chase after him, to kneel and beg. There was nothing left to do.
All that remained was to go home and try again. I'd keep pushing until I landed a job.
Maybe this was the goddess' way of saying sleeping with your potential boss was a terrible idea.
I walked back to where my car was parked and climbed in, slamming the door a little harder than necessary. I wouldn't think or talk about him anymore. I'd bury whatever thoughts I had of him deep—he clearly wanted nothing to do with me. My fists tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.
