Chapter 3: We met again

[KRISTEN]

"I think you should stop calling names," I responded to her.

"Who are you to tell me what to do? Look, you messed up my day by showing up, my gorgeous car almost got a scratch, and now I'm late with my appointment because of you." She pointed her index finger at me, talking in such a loud tone, almost like a shout. "You can never get away with this," she continued.

I didn't know if I should get angry or just laugh because of this situation. Maybe earlier, I would have liked to punch her face from continuously doing that annoying hand gesture, where she almost hit my eye with her long nail. But now? I wanted to laugh, annoyed, because of how she overreacted. I mean, she was the one who was driving recklessly on a quiet road and almost hit me, but then she still had the guts to be mad at me for ruining her day?

"Look, it's fine, sue me. I wouldn't mind receiving a note from the police station. As a matter of fact, I would take it as an opportunity to report a reckless driver," I said as I raised my head, staring at the CCTV camera before looking back at her.

She looked even more annoyed than she was before, but I just decided not to care about her anymore since I had to go to the interview.

"You bitch!" I heard her shout.

But instead of minding her, I rushed my way to my destination.

Taking a few shortcuts almost didn’t seem like a short shortcut due to the crowd scattered everywhere, while some of them almost ate up the whole space. Not sure about it, but looks like a music event is currently happening.

Yeah, I guess so, since I heard someone singing beautifully, that almost made me stop and join those people watching him. Good thing is that I managed not to.

After 20 minutes of non-stop driving, I finally made it here in front of the gallery. I headed straight to where I think their office is, and then I saw a woman rushing somewhere holding a few documents. She ended up tripping, and all the papers scattered on the floor, so I quickly went and started helping her.

“Uhm, thanks!” she uttered.

“No worries.” I smiled. “I always ended up like this when I was still an intern. Good thing about it is, I’ve learned a lesson not to rush myself anywhere whenever I’m holding papers,” I continued.

We stood up once we finished gathering all of it. “Thanks again,” She smiled, and then I smiled back, handing her the other batch of papers I picked up.

“By the way, do you know where the HR office is? I’m sure I’m in the right place, but not exactly where I should be going.” I asked her.

“Oh! Are you here for an interview?” She asked, then I nodded my head. “I see. You just have to take the left turn, go straight and you should be able to see the office at the end of it.”

I nodded as I looked in the direction she was pointing at, then I stared back at her, “Thanks, uhm..”

“Mira,” She uttered as she smiled.

“I’m Kristen, by the way. It is nice meeting you in a not-so-nice way.” I responded.

I was nervous for a second that she might misunderstand my joke, like everyone else I met before, but then she laughed and said, “Yeah. That’s right. Anyway, I think you should go now, I mean, you wouldn’t want to be late for your interview.”

After that short encounter with a very sweet and cheerful woman, I headed straight to the office.

I took a deep breath before knocking on the glass door, then I heard a deep voice of a man saying, “You may come in.”

As instructed, I went inside the room and saw a man sitting on an office chair facing the opposite side.

“Good afternoon, sir. I’m Kristen Sterling.” I wasn't really sure why I felt nervous. Maybe because I had been standing here for almost a minute, and I didn't even get any introduction from him? Is this how the HR treats their applicants?

“I’m here for an interview…for the Event Coordinator position.” I uttered as I tried to look around.

My eyes stopped somewhere at the table in front of me. I felt relieved to see the sign since I finally got to know the name of who is going to conduct the interview, but then I was confused when I saw a woman’s name written on it.

“Rihanna Wilson?” I whispered.

He suddenly turned around and faced me, revealing his perfect look, those captivating green eyes, thick eyebrows, a pointy nose that perfectly fits his face.

“Rihanna isn’t here yet, so I will be your interviewer.”

His lips? Wouldn’t be surprised if anyone would not want to kiss him. Well, except for me. I’m not into wealthy and good-looking people at the same time. Why? Because their love is fake. They can’t be trusted.

“Do you have a problem with that?” He asked.

He somehow resembles my ex-fiance a bit.

“Yes,” I uttered, out of the blue.

“What?” He seemed to be surprised by what I uttered, so am I?

I shook my head in disbelief and quickly took back what I just said, “No, I mean, no. I’m fi–”

A sudden memory, or what do you call a flashback, made me stop talking for a moment. I just realized that he didn’t just resemble my ex but also someone I met briefly before, or should I specifically say, the other night.

“You?” I uttered in surprise.

“Ms. Kristen, I thought you don’t have any problem with me interviewing you?” He confusingly asked.

“Sorry sir, I, I think we already met before.” I uttered.

The interviewer raised an eyebrow in mild surprise at my statement. His composed demeanor remained intact, but there was a subtle shift in his expression.

"Oh? Have we?" he replied, his tone maintaining a level of professionalism.

I nodded, my uncertainty growing. "Yes, the other night at a bar. You... you helped me when things were getting out of hand."

His gaze remained steady, his eyes revealing nothing. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Ms. Sterling. I haven't been to any bar recently, and certainly not the one you mentioned."

His denial was calm, but there was a glint in his eyes that hinted at something more. I felt a sense of frustration, torn between trusting my instincts and accepting his words.

"I'm certain it was you," I insisted, my voice wavering slightly. "You intervened and, um, prevented something bad from happening."

He sighed, a subtle expression of impatience crossing his face. "Ms. Sterling, I assure you, I have not been involved in any such incident. Perhaps you're confusing me with someone else."

The air in the room seemed charged with tension. I couldn't shake the vivid memory of the man who resembled him, stepping in to protect me. Yet, here was the successful businessman, calmly refuting any connection to that night.

`

"I... I must be mistaken," I conceded, my confidence waning. "I apologize for the confusion."

The man nodded, a trace of a smile playing on his lips. "No need to apologize, Ms. Sterling. Let's refocus on the interview. Tell me more about your experience in event coordination."

As we delved into the professional aspects of the conversation, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. The mystery surrounding that night lingered, leaving me with a sense of unease as the interview progressed.