Page 1 of Love Not Qualified

ONE

HAELYN

My tongue rested on the left side of my bottom lip as I flicked the pen between my fingers. With each swing, it touched my temples.

Tap. Swing. Tap. Swing.

I tucked my tongue back inside and replaced it with the end of the pen while I searched through a pile of thoughts in my mind.

CVs were the worst part about finding a job. Ihatedcreating a polished version of myself, flawless and with brilliant work experience, when I was nowhere near that. Sure, I had the experience, but the places I gathered it from weren’t exactly legal. More specifically, I wasn’t legally old enough to work anywhere. As a result, there’s no way to prove I was ever hired.

I tucked my dark curls behind my ear, trying to focus.Okay. I have to take it from the beginning.

At sixteen, when Dad got drunk and spent all our savings gambling, I worked nights as a bartender and days as a dishwasher in a club. It was a horrible time in my life—I had covered my umber skin with tons of makeup and stuffed socks into my bra in an attempt to hide my real age.

That’s one, but I wasn’t sure I should’ve written it down.

At seventeen, I was a dog walker and nanny for six months. That was something I could’ve used. I thought it was decent and showed that I was a hardworking girl at an early age.

But again, I had no actual proof I did that.

Yet it’s not as if anyone hiring me would investigate so deeply that they’d contact everyone I’ve worked for to ask about my performance.

If they did, they would find out I lost two dogs in one day, one dog was bit by the other, and was fired because I gave a kid a piece of chocolate.

Okay, it wasn’t just one, but I couldn’t say no. I had remembered the times my mother would hide sweets from me, so I knew I was doing that kid a favor. The parents just couldn’t see things the way I did.

I worked at a fast food truck after that, and then as a mechanic. The latter didn’t work well because I had lied about my experience and almost set a car on fire.

I sat up straighter in my chair.

Fuck that. I was going to write all of my previous jobs on this CV. There were too many for them to reach out to each one. Even if they did, I was a different person now. I was twenty-one, and I deserved a second chance.

The bell rang and I jumped to my feet from behind the front desk of the sportswear shop I was working at. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I lost track of time after ordering myself an Uber.

Glancing between the family that entered the store and the clock behind me, I realized that it was past seven, and time for me to leave.

“Hi there,” I said, pushing myself onto my palms so I could see them better.

The man’s head moved in my direction while his wife—presumably—and kid went to the left side to look at some clothes. He tipped his chin forward, ready to go after his family.

“We’re closed,” I continued with a smile, eyeing my phone that just lit up with a notification that my Uber driver was here.

He looked around, then lowered his eyes to his watch before they met mine. “It’s seven thirty.”

I nodded and pushed a button to close all the lights, then stuffed the CV in my purse as I walked over to them. “I’m sorry.” I gave them an apologetic smile. “We close thirty minutes early to clean up.”

His wife joined him, her brows furrowed. The man took the kid in his arms as I walked toward the exit, but he didn’t move. “Then why do your hours say eight rather than seven-thirty?”

Are you serious?

I adjusted the strap of the purse on my shoulder, moving my weight from one foot to another. “It’s only on Sundays.”

He huffed, then walked out with his wife and kid, murmuring something I couldn’t decipher.

It wasn’t my fault they decided to come here at the last minute. I was going out with my friends, and not a single soul had entered the shop in two hours. He should’ve been happy I didn’t close then.

I secured the store for the night and got into the Uber waiting for me outside, then messaged Merielle that I’d be there in five.

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