Like Orion & Spark

9: Positive, Negative

My interview happened in the early morning before class. I picked out my nicest dress shirt and tried my best. The only thing left to do was wait for the phone call, and my nerves were going haywire.

I hopped on a bus to arrive at Kieran's place. The streets careened past the window as I pressed the button on Trevor's noisy Walkman with my thumb. His music taste was a mixture of pop songs and hip-hop, but it was better than nothing. (Kid, do you know what a Walkman is? Ah, come on. You don't have to roll your eyes. I was just checking. Do you remember you had to show me how to make a spreadsheet? Technology is not what it used to be, stop making me feel old.)

I pulled the cord and got off at the corner of Pleasant and Cherry street. I was still wearing the same shirt I'd chosen for the interview, and hooked my finger through my tie to loosen it, hoping I wasn't overdressed.

Arriving at Kieran's apartment building, I slipped off my headphones and buzzed into his intercom. The door beeped, signalling that it was open.

I sighed and went up to the fifth floor, getting lost in the hallway for a moment. The dull carpet was scuffed, dotted with the occasional potted plant at every corner. I'd just walked past an apartment door when it opened, slightly ajar.

Kieran leaned against the doorframe, dressed in a tight-fitting t-shirt layered underneath a burgundy sweater that came down past his waist. "Hey, you."

I stopped mid-step to smile in his direction. "Ah, I almost missed you for a second."

He pushed open the door, and I followed him inside. It wasn't a large apartment, big enough for one person, with an entryway that branched off into the kitchen and the dining area. The glass table was at the centre, between a sectional leather couch and the TV.

"And I thought I was going overboard," he said, shooting me a grin. "It suits you, though."

"Yeah, right." I placed the Walkman on his countertop, padding through the kitchen section. It was surprisingly tidy. I had to wonder if he'd cleaned preemptively, or if his apartment was always this dustless. "I had an interview earlier. Didn't have much time to change, so I'm stuck with workplace casual."

"Oh, that explains the tie. What are you interviewing for, an internship?"

"Basically." I gazed through the window, at the entryway leading to the street below. From his apartment, I could trace the path I travelled a few minutes prior. My breath fogged the glass, and I absently drew a smiling face before it faded. "I really want this job. It seems like the perfect place, but I'm not sure the head researcher liked me."

I'd done more searching on MARS while looking through the bus routes on the library computer. The leading professor of MARS gladly told me all about their investigations into genetics and how they planned on dedicating an entire team to the subject. If I got access to that, I would surely have an answer. Although the vibrant glowing around my hands hadn't made another appearance, I couldn't be certain.

"I gave them the phone number for the fraternity," I said. "They're supposed to call later tonight."

Kieran took a seat and politely patted the cushion next to him. "That's fast, isn't it? Maybe that's a good sign."

I wasn't sure what to think. "It could be. I don't know anymore. It feels like nothing ever ends the way I want it to."

"I'm sure that's not true." I glanced at him out of my periphery, unable to discern the expression clouding his features. Was it concern, or something else? Part of me still couldn't believe he was talking to me, much less that I was inside his apartment, and he wanted me there. "There has to be something that turned out perfectly."