Hate is a strong word

Chapter 1

I rocked back and forth in my chair, occasionally glancing at the clock on the wall beside me. I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and took a deep breath. The door across the hall suddenly opened, revealing a man in a suit. He nervously glanced at me before quickly walking towards the elevator, anxious to put as much space as possible between himself and the open door. This scared me, making me even more nervous when my name was called by a deep male voice from inside the office.

"Ms. Times."

Deep breaths, deep breaths.

"Ms. Times." The voice said again, this time with a hint of annoyance.

I stood from my chair and straightened my shirt. First impressions matter, and I wanted to impress. I slowly made my way to the open door and took one last breathe before entering. I walked into a large, clean office. A brown-haired man (judging by the gray in his hair, over 40) sat behind a neat desk, studying by what looks like from the back of the sheet my resume. He looked up at me from his seated position and gestured for me to sit in the chair in front of the desk. I quickly sat, already feeling the butterflies getting worse. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Hello Ms. Times. My name is Mr. Rogers, and I will be interviewing you today. I am the head of this company, so if you are fortunate enough to get this job I will be your boss. Let us start by reviewing your resume. Tell me a little about yourself."

I relaxed a little before saying exactly what I had practiced a million times in the mirror for the past month.

"My name is Rebecca Times, but you can just call me Rebecca. I live here in New York, am 20 years old, and I hate hot dogs."

He gives me a strange look after hearing the last part, but continues on anyway.

"Ok, Rebecca. Let's start with the questions. Why do you want to become a photographer for this company?"

"Being a photographer has always been my dream. I took photography classes in High School, and immediately fell in love. I have won a few awards because of my pictures, and I would love to make it my career."

He nodded, before writing something down on a notepad. I tapped my fingers on my knee and looked around the office. He had pictures of himself and his family everywhere, some older than others. His children seemed to be older now, about my age. He kept everything neat and didn't have very much furniture.

"Alright then. Why did you chose this company?"

"This company is very well known, and many great photographers have worked here at one point. I love to look at your magazines, and the skills shown are incredible. I believe working here would be a great learning opportunity for me."

"Alright, that's all I needed. Thank you so much and we will get back with you shortly."

I nodded and stood up. I walked to the door and closed it behind me, relaxing instantly. That was way shorter than I though, but I'm glad it is over. Now I just have to wait and see if I got the job.

I rode the elevator to the lobby and got a taxi. I took the taxi to my apartment building and walked up the stairs to my apartment . I fumbled for my keys and unlocked my door, instantly crashing on the couch. I had worked constantly for the past month preparing for that interview, so now I had no idea what to do. I turned on the TV and watched a couple of episodes of full house before I felt my stomach rumble. Not in the mood to cook anything, I ordered a pizza. After about 20 minutes, I heard a knock at my door.

"Hello, one medium cheese pizza with a small order of cheese sticks?" The pizza delivery guy asked. He was tall, brown-headed, and had the bluest eyes I have ever seen. I caught myself staring and blushed.

"Oh, right. Yeah, that's me." I handed him some bills and waved goodbye. Right before I closed the door, he stopped me.

"Ok, I know this is weird, but can I have your number?" He scratched the back of his neck nervously, and I giggled.

"Sure." I wrote it down on a napkin and gave it to him. "My name is Rebecca."

"Nash, nice to meet you. I'll text you. Bye." I waved again and closed the door. That was weird, but nothing new. I get asked my number all the time, so I shouldn't be surprised. The problem is, they never seem to text me, so I didn't expect Nash to do the same. I flipped open the pizza box before inhaling the whole thing. I was hungry.

I went to my room and changed into some PJ's. I crawled into my bed before checking my emails and looking on Pinterest.

Two hours later, I finally decided that it was time to go to sleep. Yes, I was on Pinterest for two hours. It's easy to get sucked into it. Just as I was about to cut off my lights, I got a phone call. Who would be calling me at this time of night? I looked at the number and didn't recognize it, but I answered it anyway.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Times?"

"Yes?"

"You got the job."