Aria Langley was twenty-six, single, and in a hurry.
With dark brown hair tied into a messy braid and a pair of oversized glasses slipping off her nose, she raced through the busy morning crowd like her life depended on it. In a way, it did. Her job interview started at 9:00 AM sharp, and it was already 8:58.
She was dressed in a navy blazer—borrowed from her best friend—and worn-out sneakers that squeaked on polished floors. Her laptop bag was stuffed to the brim and stubbornly refused to zip. Of course, this was the day the zipper chose betrayal.
As she sprinted into the lobby of Westwood Enterprises, her laptop bag burst open. Her laptop slipped out, took one bounce off the marble floor.
"Out of the way!" she yelled, but it was too late.—as it launched itself, missile-style—straight into the face of an unsuspecting man.
Adrian Westwood, thirty-two, CEO and every bit the image of elegance, took a step forward. He was tall, with short, jet-black hair combed neatly, and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. His grey suit was ironed to perfection, his black shoes polished like mirrors.
He turned just in time for the laptop to hit him squarely in the temple.
Adrian stumbled. Then slipped. And finally landed on the floor with a loud, painful thud.
Aria gasped and skidded to a stop, her hair bouncing and glasses flying off.
"Oh my God! Are you okay?" she exclaimed, rushing over to him, cheeks flushed with horror.
He groaned and blinked up at her, dazed. "Did you... just attack me with a laptop?"
She knelt beside him. "No! I mean, yes—but not on purpose! I swear it just flew out of my bag, I didn't even see you there—"
"Because you weren't looking," he muttered, attempting to sit up but wincing at the sharp jolt of pain in his ankle.
"I am so sorry," she said, genuinely panicked now. "Do you need help? Should I call someone? Oh wait—you're bleeding—oh God—"
"It's a scratch," he said, though his voice lacked conviction. He tried again to get up and failed.
"Okay, that's it," she said. "I'm calling the receptionist. Just—don't move."
By the time security and building staff came rushing over, Aria had retrieved a cold bottle of water from the front desk and was awkwardly offering it like a peace treaty.
"Here. For the bump. Or the shock. Or both."
He stared at her. She stared back. Then muttered under her breath, "Worst. First impression. Ever."
He raised an eyebrow. "You think this is a first impression?"
"I had an interview here," she said. "Had. Past tense. Because there's no way they'll let me work here now. Not after I assaulted the CEO with a Lenovo."
He blinked. "You have an interview here?"
She groaned and looked away. "Well, that seals it. I'm going to be blacklisted in every office in the city."
Paramedics entered the scene and started checking him, but he waved them off.
As he was escorted out on a wheelchair, he turned his head slightly. "Next time, try carrying a briefcase. Or a leash. For the laptop."
She looked up from the pile of her scattered papers. "Noted."
And with that, Aria Langley watched her future roll away—literally—on a wheelchair.