I woke up excited about the day – a surprising reaction considering where I was and what I was going to be doing. I didn’t mind travel in general, but this town had never been the highlight of my travel destinations. And under normal circumstances I’d have preferred slamming my head into the wall as opposed to interviewing college kids.

Shit, some of these interviewees could be mine in another month or two. I’d been so excited about the promotion I hadn’t really thought about what it was going to be like to try and manage a fresh faced, wide-eyed graduate.

None the less I jumped out of bed, showered, and dressed in my favorite suit while I whistled softly.

As I sat in the back seat of the cab, I shuffled through the resumes for today. I was interviewing ten people over the course of nine hours. A fancy luncheon put on by the college thrown in the middle and a social mixer tonight.

Edward Stanton III, Joseph Michael Stronghold (yeah, the dude put his middle name on his resume – that alone should have discounted him), and on and on the list went with third and fourth generation names. Throwing the resumes back on top of my laptop bag, I pulled out my phone.

Me: Ready to kill it on those interviews?

Bianca: Ugh, no. Do you think I can wear sweatpants?

Me: Not unless they’re phone interviews.

Bianca: Boo.

Me: Knock’em dead. See you at eleven.

Bianca: You too.

Bianca: Actually, no – be nice!

Her last demand came as the cab pulled up to the university building where the interviews would take place and I chuckled as I paid and thanked the driver. I found the small conference room I’d been assigned for the day and set up for my first interview.

I wasn’t entirely sure what it was I was looking for in an employee. Obviously, I wanted someone intelligent, well spoken, and I guess if I was being honest I wanted someone with the same sort of work ethic and dedication that I had – or at least as most I could hope for.

At five ‘til eight, a young man in an ill-fitting three-piece suit stood nervously in the door.

“Hi, are you Joseph?” I asked, moving to the door in an attempt to make this kid relax a little. Nothing sounded worse than sitting through an interview while the person across the table stuttered out short answers and avoided eye contact.

When he nodded, I extended a hand and then motioned for him to have a seat.

“Thanks for coming out today, Joseph.” Taking a seat across from him I slid him the packet HR had sent with me. “You can take these with you. It’s a little about the company, the office in New York, and our benefits package.”

“Thank you,” he fumbled with the papers before tucking them into his portfolio.

I leaned back in my chair hoping my relaxed posture would put him at ease. “I took a look at your resume last night and I have to tell you, it looks great. I think you have a lot of the skills and experience we’re looking for in an entry-level analyst.”

Okay, maybe I was stretching the truth a little, but the way his face softened, and his shoulders relaxed, I knew it had been the right thing to say.

“Why don’t I tell you a little about Harrison and Mac and then we can ask each other some questions and see if this is something you might be interested in. Sound good?”

By the end of the interview, I liked Joseph Michael Stronghold way more than I’d anticipated. I’d even forgiven him for using his middle name on his resume – almost. He’d need some confidence behind the scenes before I could take him to a client site, but I put him in the “keep” file and actually meant it when I told him that it had been a pleasure talking to him.

The next two interviews were flops. Edward Stanton III either had no idea what my company did when he signed up for the interview or he’d wanted to waste my time. And Natasha Lamoure had spent more time pushing out her breasts and posing for me than she had thinking about the answers that were coming out of her boldly painted lips.

When I ushered Natasha out of the room, I spotted Bianca making her way across the empty space between the conference rooms. The rooms ran along the far wall, each boasting a magnificent view of the campus. But my view – damn, 8B looked all grown up. The tap of her black heels echoed in the otherwise quiet space and her uneasy smile, aimed right at me, made this whole day – the whole trip seem worth it.

“Hi,” she said when she got within speaking distance.

“Miss Winters,” I said and waved her into the room, closing the door behind her. “You look great.”

She smoothed her hand down her black skirt. “You’re the first interviewer to ever tell me that.”

A deep chuckle escaped from my upturned lips. “Yeah, I think my HR director’s ears are probably ringing.”

I moved toward the chair I’d been using for the interviews and paused. I looked down at my watch. I already knew the time, but I needed something to do with my eyes that didn’t involve mentally undressing the woman in front of me. Being here with her felt all kinds of fucked up. We were playing some twisted mentor/mentee game that looked harmless but felt like it could slice me wide open.

In this small conference room standing behind a thick, oak desk that had been designed for intimidation, I only wanted to make her feel equal. “I’ve got about twenty minutes until the next roman numeral shows up. Do you still want to do a mock interview, or do you want to go grab a cup of coffee or something?”

“Please,” she sat down and slumped into the seat. “I’m really regretting my decision to blow off preparing last night.”

Taking my seat, I ran my hand down my tie. “Alright, Miss Winters, why don’t you start by telling me a little about yourself.”

Her eyes widened in panic, but she took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay, I’m in my last semester and will graduate with a B.S. in Electrical Engineering. My interest is in signal processing, specifically machine learning.”

“Very good and do you have any experience – internships or co-ops?”

“I had an internship with Mollie Engineering last summer where I was able to contribute to their machine learning team.”

“You spent your summers in New York?”

She broke character for a moment, her face lighting up. “Yeah, call me crazy but I love New York in the summer. Everyone else is hurrying off to their beach homes and the streets are quieter.”

“Quieter because everyone is trying to escape the heat,” I said thinking about the sticky hotness that soaked into the concrete and set the city ablaze during the month of July.

“I don’t mind it,” she said, shaking her head and a wistful look overtaking her face. “My parents have an outdoor patio where we plant a little garden every year and there’s a mister out there with these big, ugly lounge chairs with mismatched cushions where my mom and I sit with a book or an iced tea. It’s my favorite place in the whole world.”

“You miss New York?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. I could tell she did by the way she talked about it and the look that crossed her face every damn time.

She nodded, her smile falling. “I miss my family.”

“Siblings?”

“Two brothers. Leo and Donnie. They’re seventeen.”

“Twins?”

“Yep, never a dull moment with those two around.”

The way she said it made me picture her sitting quietly in a noisy house just taking it all in. I had never been able to do that – stand on the sidelines when things around me escalated into anarchy. When things got out of hand, I either became louder and more obnoxious to drown out the noise or I’d run.

That’s who Bianca was, she was the silence – still and unmoving, barely noticeable at all until it was gone. But I’d lived my life in the chaos and noise and had strived for nothing but peace and quiet since I’d been on my own. I had learned to appreciate the silence. I needed it. I craved it.

“What does your family think of you staying for grad school?”

The way she instantly worried at her lip gave her away. “You haven’t told them.”

“I will if and when I decide to stay, but the twins will be graduating high school soon and preparing to do their own thing anyway and mom and dad are probably counting down the days until they have an empty house.”

“You don’t really believe that, or you’d have already told them.”

She laughed softly and repeated, “I will tell them if and when I decide to stay.”

Her posture stiffened, and her face became stoic – a sign she was ready to get back to the interview.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I never planned to ask this question in real interviews. I thought it was a bullshit question. Nobody knew where they’d be in five years’ time – not even in a year’s time. We rolled with life’s punches and adjusted. You could have a hope and a plan, but how often did those work out the way we dreamed it up in our heads? But I was curious about little 8B and what she wanted for herself.

“I’d like to be working for a company that creates products that are cutting edge, but whose core values are still dependable and loyal to its employees and clients.”

I appreciated her insight, and I could tell she meant it – every word, but I also knew there was a good chance another interviewer was going to see her answer as a copout.

“What about you specifically, how do you see yourself fitting into a company like that?”

She looked like she was pondering that for a moment. I bet she already knew. Had already considered this question as she’d considered everything.

“I’d like to lead teams or projects. I think I’d be good at managing moving pieces and driving toward a common goal. While I’ll be grateful to work my way up and be a member of a team until I’m ready to lead my own, I see myself as a leader.”

When she’d stopped speaking the room grew quiet as I let her response hang there. I let it soak in. It was the perfect response, but even better – it was true.”

She fidgeted in her chair, obviously waiting for my response. My approval.

“That was beautiful, 8B.”

A small, forced laugh left her mouth. “Beautiful?”

I nodded. “It’s the best answer to that question I’ve ever heard.”

“Isn’t this your first day of doing interviews?”

It was my turn to laugh. “Trust me, that answer is your golden ticket. It’s thoughtful and sincere and says a lot about you knowing your strengths like that.”

She nodded and let out a breath. “Any more questions?” she asked tentatively.

“One more.” I crossed my ankles and leaned back into the cushioned office chair. “What is your biggest weakness?”

Without hesitation she said, “I am good with numbers and details. I love researching and proving theories. I’m a hard worker and I will put in the time and hours necessary to meet deadlines, but I,” she looked down at her laced fingers that laid on her lap. “I can come across as selfish. My focus makes it hard to notice the feelings of those around me. I don’t always catch on to subtleties and nuances. I realize this is something I will need to work on.”

My throat tightened, and my chest burned. How had this girl, this woman, become so self-aware at such a young age?

“No need to be quite so sacrificial in your answer. Just let them know you are prone to tunnel vision when you’re meeting deadlines. They’ll appreciate that quality when phrased a way that benefits them.”

She nodded again, some of that confidence that had been building since she sat down seemed to chip away and I wanted to help her find it again.

“Just remember, the people interviewing you, no matter their title or merits, have weaknesses too. We all do, none of us are perfect. They aren’t looking for perfect.” I scrubbed a hand over my jaw. “I’m not looking for perfect.”

We stared at each other and it felt like our interview had turned too personal. Like we’d both revealed too much about ourselves. Her more than me, but considering I didn’t tell anyone jack shit, I’d given her more than I was comfortable with.

“So, any last words of wisdom?” she asked, standing shakily.

I mirrored her movements and stood, rounding the table. “You could try picturing them naked.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Is that what you did when you were interviewing for jobs?”

“Nah,” I shook my head. “I went with a slightly different approach.”

Her eyebrows drew together, and she waited for me to elaborate.

Leaning in, I brought my lips close to her ear. “I went commando.”

“Seriously?” she asked with a nervous laugh as her eyes drifted down to my crotch.

Was she wondering if I was free-balling it right now? My dick stirred at the thought of her considering the underwear situation, or lack thereof, in my pants. “I can’t even remember if it was intentional or not. Maybe it was so I’d feel like I’d somehow got the better of them without their knowing or maybe I just hadn’t done laundry in a week.”

“And that worked?”

“I got a job. I can’t speak to whether or not my lack of underwear was the cause or just a lucky coincidence.”

Her smile was big and conspiratorial as she leaned in, not as close as I had, but close enough that I was all too aware of her faint floral scent and the light pink gloss that coated her lips. Those full, pink lips parted, and I went rigid. I didn’t trust myself to so much as breathe.

“I think I might try that,” she said in a husky voice that was flirty and sexy, and maybe I was reading too much into every move she made because she had me so tied up, but I was starting to think 8B might be feeling this thing between us too.

Just maybe Bianca was into me for real. Not because I was helping her and not as a fake anything. In fact, I wasn’t even sure my 8B was capable of faking something so good.

As she walked out the door, I was already preparing my next move.