Bittersweet Hello. (H.S)

Seven

Rapid taps on the door disrupt my mind from drifting off and I get up to answer it, pulling it open to Eric on the other side of the threshold.

"Wow. You look like shit."

I frown in offence, contemplating whether or not I should slam the door in his face; not only because of what he's just said but because of last night.

"You're already walking on thin ice."

He shrinks back and puts his head down—almost like a dog with his tail between its legs... Please don't ask me why I thought of that because I really don't know.

"Yeah..."

I open the door wider for him to fit through and he takes a seat on the study desk chair, looking around the room to take in the damage. "What happened in here?"

I recall in my head walking through this very door as I shut it, remembering how I sank down it last night in disbelief after my rant to Eric on the car ride here and how I snapped into a mini fit of anxiety and then rage. Luckily Elizabeth wasn't here; she's been gone for two days. Which is strange.

"Nothing."

Eric sighs when he discovers my answers are going to be clipped; but what does he expect? I'm more hurt than angry that he would do this to me. I don't think all those nights he'd spent with me crying over Harry and vows of mine to not ever give him any of my time come the day I see him again, resonated inside his head before he pressed send. It really upsets me.

"I came here to apologise."

"Okay. Apologise." I feel a small twinge of regret at how snappy I spoke but I just leave it and watch him prepare himself, not really having a reaction to my tone. He takes a deep breathe in before speaking again.

"I'm sorry." He says.

He stares at me and I stare back, waiting for him to finish his apology, but there's just silence and his mouth only stays shut.

"Is that all?"

He looks around the room and then back to me again with a dumbfounded nod, head bobbing like a bobble head; I nearly laugh but keep it concealed with a stoic stare. "You want me to forgive you for telling Harry I was here without consulting me first?"

His head once again bobbles and this time it's extra hard to stop from smiling and I feel the corner of my mouth from turn up for a second but luckily his eyes wonder to the window above my bed before he sees it.

"Help me find a job." Since I was going to browse for some job vacancies and apply to a whole bunch, this is really good timing for some help. I needed to top up my bank account since it's been  getting close to the amount I don't want it going under and having someone who's been here for a while will help a lot with places to go and to avoid and such. Also it's such a big weight lifted off of my already burdened shoulders.

"A job? You need a job?"

I nod.

"Done. You've got a job."

"Well, I'm no professional job agent, but I'm pretty sure we need to find one first."

He gets up and throws himself onto my bed, making himself comfortable. "My mates dad owns a club. He's looking for employment and he's asked me, but since I'm fine with money I can put in a good word for you and get you the job." He places his hands behind his head and crosses his legs, "You know what to do and knew how to make all those different types of drinks since you were 15." He looks at me with a relaxed smirk. As if he's got it all figured. "It's good money too."

I really wouldn't mind working in a club—I know how to deal with drunks, make the drinks and all that fun jazz. I got my bartending license when, like Eric said, I was 15. Kind of. My uncle owned a bar and taught me the ropes after hours, during holidays I'd spend with him while my mother was working late shifts. He'd have to do paper work and the times he'd get done, he'd teach me how to make things like margaritas that he'd drink–I know, illegal but he was cool with it and never ever let me drink a drop of course. I even started working there during college as soon as I turned 18 and learnt even more.

"Okay. I'll try that." I say, my voice relaxed also. He knew the moment I opened the door I had forgiven him.

He pulls out his mobile and begins to type. Fast. The silence filling the room for a couple of minutes before he speaks.

"Okay, good. You've got an interview in 2 hours."

I'm suddenly stunned, a wave of nervous anxiousness washing over me. "What?"

He looks to me from his phone, placing it onto his chest. "Yeah. I've just gotten an interview for you with the boss in 2 hours—that's when he's free. So get ready, I'll take you."

As soon as I'm ready, we have only an hour left to get there. The nerves start to bubble in my belly.

"It's only a 30 minute drive so you'll be fine."

"So I'll be catching the tube from now on. Cool."

Eric looks at me and then back to the road again. "What? No. You're borrowing my car if you get the job."

Is he serious? "This car?"

He looks to me again, this time with an amused smile. "No. This is my baby. You can use my other one."

I watch him closely, "Is this all part of you sucking up? Cos when have you ever let me drive any of your cars?"

He chuckles, "No... Well partly, but I don't want you catching the tube at stupid o'clock and possibly getting kidnapped. Knowing you, you'd walk right into a gang related thing and they'd have to take you or kill you because you saw too much."

I laugh at his comment, "I would not."

"Yes. Yes you would."

Soon after, we arrive at a fancy looking club. No one was here expect for employees. I wasn't even sure if we were allowed to just walk in here like we just did but the inside was big and looked nice.

"Eric! Nice to see you! ... And you must be Dasha? Correct?"