Chapter 3
1455 Words
Lila stood in front of her mirror, frozen.
Her room looked like a tornado had hit it. Clothes were all over the bed, hangers on the floor, and a single black heel was missing its match. She had already tried on three different blouses, cried once, and accidentally poked herself in the eye with her eyeliner pencil.
"This is not a date," she muttered to herself, buttoning up the plain white shirt for the third time. "It's a job interview. A professional thing. With professionals. Who wears expensive shoes. And probably judge your handshake."
She stepped back and looked at herself.
Black pants. Crisp shirt. A blazer that was maybe a little too big but looked decent if she didn’t move her arms too much. Her hair was tied back in a low ponytail after her curling iron nearly burned off a chunk of it. Lip gloss. Light mascara. And nerves. Lots of nerves.
Jamie wandered into her room, yawning. “You look nice. You’re shaking.”
“Thanks,” she said, adjusting the sleeves again. “I’m not shaking. I’m... vibrating. From excitement. Or fear. Or caffeine. Not sure.”
“You’ll be fine, Lila.” He sat on her bed and reached for a granola bar. “Just remember to breathe. And don’t say anything weird. You always do that nervous rambling thing.”
“I do not ramble.”
“You once told our landlord you thought his dog looked like a ‘wise sea captain.’”
“I stand by that,” she muttered.
She checked the time—7:28 a.m. The interview was at 10, but she wanted to be early. Very early. Like... maybe they’d be impressed she showed up two hours ahead? Or maybe they’d call security. Either way, she couldn’t sit still.
Her bus ride felt like it lasted forever. She kept checking her email just to make sure the interview hadn’t suddenly been canceled. Her fingers drummed against her bag the whole way.
By the time she got off downtown, the city felt bigger than usual. And colder. She walked the block toward the glass tower that scraped the sky, Blackthorne Enterprises.
And it was huge.
Lila stopped across the street and stared up.
The building looked even looked bigger in person, it looked like something out of a superhero movie. Tall, sleek, and intimidating.
People in suits buzzed in and out of the revolving doors like it was no big deal. Like they belonged there.
She didn’t move. Her heart pounded.
What am I doing here? I’m not smart enough. I don’t even have real experience. I barely graduated. They’ll take one look at me and laugh.
The doubts hit her hard. Her hands felt clammy. Her throat tightened.
Then her phone buzzed again.
Jo: Don’t chicken out. You’ve got this.
She took a deep breath.
Right. This wasn’t just about her. It was about Jamie. About proving to herself that she could do something, be someone.
“Okay,” she whispered, straightening her blazer. “Let’s go.”
She crossed the street, clutched her bag tighter, and walked through the tall revolving doors of Blackthorne Enterprises.
The lobby hit her like a slap of cold air and expensive perfume. Marble floors. High ceilings. Everything sparkled. Even the receptionist looked like she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine.
Lila stepped up to the desk, trying not to trip over her own feet.
“H-hi. I’m here for the 10 a.m. interview. Junior Assistant position.”
The woman gave her a polite smile and checked her screen. “Lila Carter?”
“That’s me.”
“Have a seat. Someone from HR will be down shortly.”
Lila nodded and walked to the waiting area. Her heels clicked a little too loudly. She sat on the edge of the couch, hands clasped, pretending to scroll her phone while her heart beat out of rhythm.
She looked around at the space.
So clean. So modern. So… unreal.
I don’t belong here, she thought again.
But before she could drown in those thoughts, a woman in a black suit approached her.
“Ms. Carter? This way, please.”
Lila stood, legs slightly wobbly, and followed.
This was it.
She was about to walk into a room full of people who could either change her life… or send her home with a polite rejection email.
And somewhere up there, in one of the offices she’d just passed under, sat the man who ran it all.
Damien Blackthorne.
The elevator ride felt longer than it was.
Lila stood stiffly beside the HR woman, clutching her bag to her chest like it was a life vest. She tried not to fidget, but her fingers kept twitching. The silence was loud.
When the elevator doors opened, they stepped into a quieter floor, glass offices, dark wood accents, and expensive-looking art on the walls. Everyone here walked fast. Talked fast. Looked serious.
Lila swallowed hard.
The HR woman smiled politely. “This way.”
She led her down a short hall and into a conference room with a long table and chairs too clean to sit in comfortably. Lila took the seat she was offered, smoothing her blazer once again.
“You’ll be speaking with Ms. Lane and Mr. Peterson,” the woman explained. “They handle recruitment for our junior assistant positions.”
Lila nodded. “Thank you.”
A minute later, the door opened, and two people walked in.
One was a woman in her late thirties with sharp eyes and a sleek bob, Ms. Lane. The other was a younger man in a gray suit who looked like he hadn’t had coffee yet, Mr. Peterson.
They sat across from her and glanced down at their papers.
“Lila Carter,” Ms. Lane started, scanning the resume. “Just graduated from Ridgeview University?”
“Yes. A few weeks ago,” Lila said, trying not to let her voice shake.
“Tech major,” Mr. Peterson added, sounding a little surprised. “Interesting. We usually get more business majors.”
“I, um, I’ve always loved figuring out how things work. I built my first computer with spare parts when I was sixteen,” Lila said, then immediately regretted sounding like she was bragging.
Ms. Lane raised an eyebrow. “Impressive. Though I notice you don’t have any formal internship experience?”
Lila’s heart jumped. “I worked part-time all through school to help support my brother. But I kept up with personal projects, and I helped manage the IT lab during my last year. My professor said I had a good instinct for troubleshooting.”
Mr. Peterson gave a small nod. “That explains your letter of recommendation.”
Lila relaxed a tiny bit.
They asked a few more questions, about time management, working under pressure, how she handled conflict. She answered as honestly as she could, even when her nerves made her voice too high or her hands fidget under the table.
At one point, Ms. Lane leaned back. “Tell me, why do you want to work here?”
The question hit her like a wave. She hadn’t rehearsed a fancy answer. She didn’t want to sound fake.
So she told the truth.
“Because I need a chance. I know I don’t have a fancy resume or top grades. But I work hard. I care. I don’t give up easily. I’m not perfect, but I learn fast. And I think… sometimes you need someone who doesn’t just check boxes, but actually wants to be there.”
Ms. Lane blinked. Mr. Peterson stared at her for a beat.
For a second, Lila thought she’d ruined it by saying too much. Her stomach turned.
Then Ms. Lane gave the smallest nod. “Alright, Ms. Carter. Thank you for coming in. We’ll be in touch soon.”
That was it.
Lila stood, thanked them, and followed the HR woman back to the elevator. Her knees felt weak. She tried not to overthink every word she’d said, but it was impossible.
As the elevator doors shut, she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
Back in the lobby, she walked out like a ghost, her brain playing every part of the interview on repeat. Had she said too much? Not enough? Was she too honest? Too eager?
They’re not going to call, she thought miserably. Why would they? There are probably a hundred people better than me.
But she didn’t cry. Not this time.
She took the bus home with her head resting against the window, the city blurring past. She hadn’t nailed it—but she’d done it. She’d tried.
And maybe… just maybe… that was enough.
- Writer
