Page 33 of Wildest Dreams

“I, uh, I think on my feet…”

“See, that’s gonna be an issue, because we’re looking for someone who can think with their brain.” Stassia tapped her temple with a shellacked fingernail.

I curled my own beat-up, short fingernails into my palms, hiding them. I wished I could hide myself. “It’s a turn of phrase,” I said flatly.

“How lovely you know those, considering you didn’t even go to college.” Tara’s put-on sugary tone was faker than her lips.

The next ten minutes were extremely painful. I pushed myself through the interview, determined not to stand up and leave halfway through. My heart sank lower, like an abandoned ship, drowning deeper with each cutting word and patronizing joke.

This was the only interview I’d been invited to after sending more than three hundred applications. I’d thrown a wide net too, applying for positions in marketing, sales, and administration. This was beyond bad. It was catastrophic. How was I supposed to pay for my life once my deal with Rhyland was over?

And yet I didn’t stand up and walk away. Didn’t give them the pleasure of seeing me break. I sat through the whole thing, even tossing a few quips their way myself.

“Well, this was fun.” Tara and Stassia stood up in unison, smoothing down their preppy dresses with seamless choreography. “Don’t call us—we’ll call you.”

“Doubt it,” I murmured under my breath, inwardly furious with myself for thinking I’d stood a chance at getting this job.

They obviously heard me, because they exchanged amused looks, pressing their hands to their mouths and giggling as they turned their backs on me.

I stumbled out of the gorgeous building to the Manhattan sun and the pulse of the city—cars, tourists, businesspeople, food carts—beating against my skin.

I couldn’t breathe.

I’d never had a panic attack before, so I couldn’t tell if I was having one now. I just knew the world was spinning out of focus, blurring at the edges, like a photo being devoured by fire.

Snap out of it. You can’t afford to be weak. You have Gravity to think about.

I grabbed my phone and texted Rhyland. I didn’t want to call. I knew there was a good chance I’d burst into tears if I heard another human voice.

Dylan: Is Grav okay?

Rhyland: She is fine. I, however, want to fling myself out the window. She talks constantly. About the dumbest shit. Extorted me twice before noon. Threw three public tantrums. Chased after a dog instead of vice versa. I’m 99.5% sure I got all my cardio for the week running after her.

A smile tugged at my lips. Maybe having him as a neighbor wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me.

Dylan: Welcome to toddlerhood.

Rhyland: Forget welcome. When am I seeing the farewell sign?

Dylan: So…this is probably not the right time to ask you this. I just got out of the job interview, but I need a little time to clear my head. Can you stay for another hour?

Rhyland: $%^^$#@@#%&&

Rhyland: Everything okay?

Dylan: Yeah. I just need a second to collect my thoughts.

Rhyland: Do you need a dick pic to brighten up your day? Just because we can’t hook up doesn’t mean I’m not charitable.

Dylan: Drop dead.

Rhyland: It was worth a try.

Rhyland: Stay safe.

Dylan: What do you care?

Rhyland: If something happens to you, I won’t survive taking care of this kid until a family member comes to pick it up.

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