Jas.
I sat with the other applicants, perched stiffly on one of the cushioned chairs lining the quiet waiting area, my hands neatly folded over my resume. The hallway was tastefully minimal, with abstract artwork and a soft ticking clock that made me all too aware of every passing second.
All I could think of was getting the job. I needed this… not just to pay bills, but to feel like I wasn’t depending entirely on Zane or this arrangement we would be stepping into.
I had to know I could take care of myself, that I still had a life and identity that wasn’t wrapped up in someone else’s plan, even if that someone else looked like a fallen angel in dark checkered pants.
The overhead voice of the receptionist came again through the intercom, clipped and clear.
“Ethan Reynolds?”
The man
