Chapter Seven: Three and a Half Hours for Nothing!

“Miss Yennifer,” he repeated, as if he were tasting her name on his lips. “Did you come all this way to interview me, or to try seducing me again? Because you’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

His words kept repeating in her ears. Rage filled her so fast; all she saw was red!

She stared at him, still in shock at both the words he uttered and the fact that she was completely wrong. He knew who she was. All this time, he knew. He had stood there in the lobby pretending not to recognize her, letting her think she’d imagined the whole humiliating business, and now he was speaking to her as if she had deliberately marched into his life with flirtation on her mind. When all this time he thought…

Wait, seduce him?

Did he really just say that?

Her face burned all over again, but this time, it wasn't embarrassment but anger.

Tightening her grip around my handbag, she astonishingly asked,

“I’m sorry?”

George Ashford simply stared at her with a blank look. If anything, he seemed mildly entertained. He had seen enough women, most especially female journalists, react to him to know the usual script, but this? This was surprisingly new. Either journalists had developed award-winning acting skills, or was it specifically hers? He thought as he whispered “journalists” and shook his head in disappointment.

This made Yennifer even angrier, him looking completely unaffected by the fact that he had just insulted her.

“I hate repeating myself, Miss Yennifer. I asked if you came here for an interview,” he repeated, his voice cold and his words punctured, as if he was losing his calm by the minute “Or are you here to finish what you couldn't finish in the bathroom?” he finished off with a cold look.

Yennifer couldn't help expressing her shock anymore; her mouth fell open as she processed every word. The moment she fully understood what he meant, she screamed out,

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Am I?”

“Yes!” The word came out louder than she intended. A few people walking across the parking lot glanced in their direction, but she didn't care.

For the last two days she had tried not to think about the disaster of accidentally walking into a man's shower, seeing him butt naked, apologizing, and running out of that bathroom so fast she had nearly broken her neck on the way out.

And now he was standing there, looking at her as though she had plotted the whole thing for sport.

“I did not seduce you,” she snapped. “And I certainly did not try to. If I had known the bathroom was occupied, I would never have walked in. 

George's mouth twitched; though whether from amusement or irritation, she could not tell, and he himself wasn't sure either. He wasn't as sure why he was still here listening to her deny everything when he had practice, if it was curiosity to know her next line of action, anger that she invaded his privacy or both, he'd find out soon

He took a step closer, and suddenly there was much less parking lot between them. “Miss Yennifer,” he said, in that infuriatingly measured voice, “you are trying to tell me that you walked into my private bathroom by accident. The one that clearly says out of bounds to the public, hmm?”

“By accident, Mr Ashford. By accident!” Feeling her temper fray. “ Christ how do I make you get this”

He only looked at her then, calm and unreadable, like he was appraising a painting he hadn’t decided whether he liked yet, the look beginning to drive her nuts, and that was what finally did it. 

Pointing at him, she said coldly, “You know what? Forget it. I can see it's of no use explaining anything to you, you piece of …”

Cutting herself off, she spun on her heel and marched away before she said something that would cost her whatever tiny shred of dignity remained. Each click of her heels on the tarred parking lot sounded sharper than the last. She lifted her chin, determined to walk like a woman who had not just been publicly accused of trying to seduce a man she had only just learned existed. 

All the while, her thoughts ran hot and wild. She had spent three and a half hours waiting. Three and a half hours memorizing questions, enduring stares from workers and visitors, reviewing questions until she practically memorized them, and following this man all the way into his parking lot.

And what did she get for it? An accusation. A ridiculous, insulting, completely unfair accusation

Stepping a bit further away from him, a thought came to mind: “My career” The thought struck like cold water, causing her to abruptly halt her steps, her feet no longer able to move just from the thought echoing in her head

With eyes squeezed shut and jaw tightening, she let out a loud miserable groan, “Ughhhh”

My career, she said out loud; this time, the reality of the fragility of her career hit her so hard she almost winced.

Recalling what she promised herself in the bathroom just before coming to TAH, “She's doing this”, come what may

Heaving a reluctant sigh, this was not just about George Ashford. It was not even really about the bathroom, no matter how humiliating that had been. This was about the opportunity Mr. Harrison had trusted her with. It was about the permanent position at Languard Media House. 

Her pride, unfortunately, had never paid the bills. She had already walked away from her boyfriend and her family when they chose Lily over her. She had packed her life into two boxes and moved into Chloe’s apartment because she had nowhere else to go. She had lost enough. Not this. Not her career too.

“Get yourself together, Yennifer,” she whispered. She took one long breath, and released, then another, and turned back with the kind of confidence only desperation can produce. 

George was still standing beside his car, trying to understand the woman before him, not knowing if he should applaud her confidence, stupidity or both. He had seen women and had his fair share of them, and none had ever stood up this confidently to him

Still deep in thought, he noticed her approaching again, his expression giving nothing away.

Stopping a few feet from him, “I apologize,” she said, her eyes locked on his, as if daring him to not accept her apology.

His eyebrow lifted slightly, quite in humour this time as he commented, “For what exactly, Miss Yennifer?”

Swallowing her irritation, Yennifer said in a mellow tone only because she needed this interview, “For losing my temper.”

But he said nothing, so forcing herself to continue, “I really am here for an interview, Sir; if only you could spare me a few minutes of your time, it'd be deeply appreciated by Languard Media.”

George leaned back slightly, the picture of calm. It was almost irritating how unbothered he looked, as if her entire emotional collapse had merely given him something interesting to do with his afternoon

His eyes moved over her face as though he were searching for something. A lie, a weakness or an ulterior motive.

Yennifer, unsure of what he was looking for, stared confidently at him, almost daring him 

But whatever it was he was searching for, she guessed he didn't seem to find it. 

At last, he said, “I’m a busy man, Miss Yennifer. Book an appointment.” 

Her eyes burned before she could stop them. Looking away so fast as not to be noticed, Yennifer blinked hard against the sting

“After waiting three and a half hours,” she whispered sadly 

When she looked back, he was already opening the driver’s door. Panic tightened in her chest. “Mr. Ashford,” she called quickly. “Then perhaps another time?”

George paused, and for one ridiculous second, hope flickered, but he simply looked at his watch and crushed it without mercy. 

“I'll see,” he curtly replied 

That wasn't a yes or even a maybe. No, it was barely a response. Yennifer stared at him as he got into the car, too tired to be angry anymore, too proud to look defeated. “That’s it?” she muttered under her breath. 

At the same time, George revved the engine to life, and she stepped back as the car pulled away. Watching it disappear through the parking lot.

Her shoulders dropped from the tiredness felt from just that short conversation, like she was carrying the weight of the world. “Unbelievable.”

Looking down at her notebook, where George Ashford — interview still sat there, blank and insulting. Three and a half hours of nothing. 

Just as she was about to leave, her phone buzzed in her handbag. She pulled it out, and the name on the screen increased the frustration building up in her

Mom.

Her stomach churned, not from hunger but disgust; she'd yet to forgive her parents. So she watched it ring and stop; seconds after the phone stopped ringing, a message appeared.

“We need to talk. Please come home.”

Then another message: “Lily wants to talk to you too,” and this caused Yennifer's fingers to tighten around her phone.

Lily. Of course 

Gulping down nothing but dry air, she muttered, "I'm not ready yet” she whispered, though even that sounded uncertain. Maybe she never would be. 

Locking her phone, she slid it back into her handbag and lifted her chin with the bleak determination

of someone who had already survived enough to know when to walk away. 

As she said dismissively,

“Not today.”