Chapter 26 #2
“Someone will get you.” She keeps typing on her keyboard, not having looked up at me once. I control my exhale, trying to calm my tingling nerves as I turn around to sit in one of the white crisp chairs.
Despite the cold reception, I would love the chance to work here.
Fleur is a mix of Parisian fashions and American hustle.
The main lobby has two white chairs decorated with color pillows, pastel colors and in shapes of flowers.
The wooden coffee table in front had magazines and colorful flower-shaped coasters.
The walls are plain too but decorated with carefully placed art and coordinated colors.
It’s beautiful.
The greenery in the corners of the room is carefully picked out, placed so that it has a wave of green along the wall and lines the large window in the front.
I wouldn’t mind working here on a daily basis.
“Malent?”
I dart up, my portfolio gripped tight in my hands. Despite how I’m feeling, I plaster a warm smile on my lips as a woman with light blond hair and blue-framed glasses waves me back.
Her office doesn’t follow the balanced whimsy of the main lobby. Black and white values contrast against each other in ways that make you want to get lost in. The mind is filled with daydreams and thoughts, filling dark black spots with ideas and inspiration.
The chic modern office matches the woman to a tee. Her tight white blouse and jet black pencil skirt make me feel like a kid.
I shake my head a bit, putting my game face on as I sit in the chair in front of her desk.
“Hello, Esper, I’m Jules. I manage the retail design clients for Fleur and am stepping in for Ms. Lovewell for today’s interviews. She had an emergency client this morning.”
My email conversation with Fleur didn’t notify me of who I’d be interviewing with today, but my quick search this morning told me that Jules is head retail designer and Ms. Holly Lovewell is head nest designer.
AKA, an omega-based designer.
My heart sinks a bit, thinking they might've paired me in the nest division just because I'm an omega. My face must betray my disappointment despite my effort to hide it. Jules raises her eyebrows but doesn’t comment as she reaches a hand out for my portfolio.
The silence is unnerving as she opens and pages through, moving faster than I think they should as her eyes rake over each design.
“Let’s not waste time here, Esper. You are an omega and your portfolio showcases mediocre work in the retail space as well as home.
You have no niche or direction.” My stomach drops further with each word from her mouth.
My eyes are tracked on her as she stares down, flipping quite quickly through my portfolio.
Not even bothering to look at me as she speaks.
“Why have you not picked a focus? I think the choice is obvious, no?”
I clasp my hands together in my lap, swallowing the tears that really, really want to break free at the two sentences this woman has said to me.
I blame the heat hormones for my straight-to-tears reaction.
But it’s probably just me.
“You mean nests?” I ask, deciding not to beat around the bush.
She gives me one swift nod. “I love nests and nest designs. But being an omega doesn’t make me an omega whisperer.
Experience trumps ideas. I may be good at designing nests, but I could also be good at designing commercial and home spaces, too.
We won’t know until I get the chance to work on different projects. ”
I swallow my nerves, willing myself to keep going. Jules is finally looking at me, and I can’t tell if that’s worse than her snub.
“Ms. Lovewell is a beta, and yet she’s the best nest designer in the state. Designation didn’t seem like a factor in deciding where someone should be at this company.”
Oh, god, that was dumb. My face goes red and I drop my eye contact with Jules. I could cross Fleur off my list of firms I could work for. Insulting the company is gonna get my resume and portfolio thrown right in the trash.
“So why should we give you a chance, Esper?”
My eyes dart to hers at the question. She’s leaning back in her chair, arms crossed and a single eyebrow raised.
I had a preplanned answer for this question. I swear I did. I practiced over and over again, but the words aren't coming to my mind.
Time to improvise.
I straighten in my seat and take a subtle inhale. “Everyone is a hard worker, everyone is passionate. But I’m flexible. I’m teachable. If you’re looking for someone who you can slot wherever you need them, whenever, that's me.”
My pulse is ringing in my ears. The silence is deafening, we just stare at each other. Jules’s composure is completely relaxed. Collected.
I bet she’s never nervous.
I’m so grateful for the scent-blocking spray in these rooms. Not that she’d have to catch my scent to know how sick with anxiety I am right now.
After what feels like forever, she gives me one final nod and I shoot up from my chair, ready to escape this beautifully suffocating office when I hear her clear her throat.
My hand freezes over the door handle. I’m almost too scared to turn around to face her again, but I know I don’t have a choice.
She has my portfolio in her outstretched hand, and if I needed one final nail in the coffin that is this interview, she just gave it to me.
“Thank you,” I mutter, hardly able to force the words past my lips as I grab my portfolio and walk out the door. The moment it clicks behind me, I let out a shuddering breath. Letting my hair cover my face, I wave to the front receptionist, who probably doesn’t even see me fleeing.
Only once I get outside do I swipe at the tears on my cheeks. My shoulders rack as I silently sob. Hugging my portfolio to my chest as I clutch my purse in my armpit.
My heels clack, the consistent sound bringing me a tiny ounce of comfort as I walk aimlessly through Downtown White Pine Crest.
This isn’t my first rejection, but gosh, does my skin feel burnt alive. The searing humiliation of it stings like whip marks on my skin. A fresh wound that follows me no matter how far I get from that office building.
“Omega, stop.”
I stop in my tracks, that voice exactly what I needed to hear.
My lead alpha’s scent hits me first, then his strong arms are around me.
He doesn’t turn me around to face him or walk so that he’s in front of me.
I drop my portfolio and purse as my tears and sobs become uncontrollable.
I cry into my hands as Neven hugs me from behind.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t try to convince me of anything. Doesn’t offer empty platitudes or threaten to murder whoever made me cry.
Just holds me.
He lifts his arm and I grip him like if I let go I’ll fall into the abyss. And I cry into his forearm instead of my hands, the soft fabric of his sweatshirt dampening with my tears.
I wanted that interview to go so well. I wanted it so bad.
And I just… I don’t even know where I went wrong.
“Let’s go to Juni’s,” he mumbles. He gently pulls away, grabbing my stuff off the ground and kneeling in front of me. His other hand goes to grab my thigh, encouraging me to get on his back. He lifts me up and hoists my legs to wrap around him. I lock my ankles so it's not so much work on him.
You’re never too old for a piggyback ride.
I lay my face on his back as he starts walking. I wonder when he got here, if he was here the whole time. Either way I’m so grateful to be with him.
Once, twice, three times I open my mouth to say something. Anything. I owe him something, I think. But each time, I just close them, looking like a blubbering fish, I’m sure. I sigh, closing my eyes as he walks. Juni’s should only be a few blocks but…
“I can walk,” I mutter against his wide shoulders.
“I know,” is all he says.
I scoff. “You can put me down.”
“Do I have to?”
“I… I guess not,” I say, gripping him tighter, adjusting myself so I can lay my head on his shoulder.
“Good.”
I bet we look odd… no, I know we do, but I find myself caring less and less with each step he takes. Isn’t this what alphas are for? Though I know Soren and Reed would probably do the same.
I laugh a bit, inhaling as much of his caramel scent as I can. Each whiff makes me calmer, sleepier. His pace, the light chirp of birds and rumble of cars, all the crying. A nap is very much needed.
After some cookies.
I could never say no to Juni’s chocolate chip cookies.