"So, did you get the job working in the nut-house?" my friend Olivia asked as I sat down at the table she had saved for us.

"Olivia!" I snapped. "You can't call it that! They prefer you calling it a school. It's for children with special needs."

I had met her after she finished work, she was already at the bar waiting for me.

It was relatively new bar, only opened up a few months ago and it had lots of good ratings already. We had been meaning to visit it for a while now. I realised when I first stepped in to find Olivia buried in her phone that I wished I had visited sooner.

It was ultra-modern. A bar down one side with dark marble looking counter-tops, a row of glass shelves with bottles neatly on display under a row of blue spotlights. The bar stools were a mix of black and gunmetal. There was a row of booth-style seats along the opposite side of the bar and high-rise round tables in the middle.

Olivia had taken up residence on one of the high-rise round tables. I had questioned her choice of table when there were clearly more comfortable seats in the booths, and she explained that she wanted to be seen in case a hot available guy walked in. I had to fight the urge to moan at her in disapproval as I sat down, but there would be no changing her mind.

"Whatever." Olivia shrugged. "So, did you get it? Or did you yell at the interviewing panel again?"

"Shut up," I said, shaking my head at her in slight annoyance. But she only giggled at me. "I only had it this morning."

I hadn't told Olivia the reason why I went into that line of work; working with either children with special needs or young adults with problems. I started off working with children, they were a little easier to handle. Well, they weren't really, but they were more innocent. That's what I liked about it, even though the work was hard. Working with teenagers who had drug and alcohol problems were a lot harder and depressing. That was why I decided to stay away from that line of work, and why, after the hotel interview mess up, I decided to go back to children.

But the reason I went into the line of work in the first place was because of my own mother. It sounds strange to say it out loud to people though; wanting to work with children with additional needs to feel close to my dead mother. I don't even think Olivia knows my mother died. I lose track with how many people I have had to correct, but never really initiating the conversation. It was too hard to bare sometimes.

"Yeah, but sometimes you can gauge how it went!" she pressed, leaning over the table while ignoring a young lad who was eyeing her up. Clearly he wasn't her type.

"Sometimes."

"Oh come on, tell me how it went!"

"Okay, it went terrible!"

"Oh God, really?"

"Yes, but I got a call back an hour later, asking me to start Monday."

"What!?" she half-asked, half-yelled in shock.

I laughed at her expression. "Basically I messed it up, mixed up two roles I had applied for. I thought I was being interviewed by this company that was just on the outskirts of London. But I wasn't, it was the one with the terrible website in the city, and I basically insulted the woman who was on the main page!"

"Oh my God, and they still gave you the job? They must have been desperate!"

"Oi!" I frowned at her. "No, I was just honest with her. I told her I had been applying for whatever I could, and that I'd tried to get out of social care but failed because I realised it wasn't for me. I said I realised I was better off in social care work and she just liked the fact I was honest—although that last bit was a lie. But, she must have given me a good word to those who make the decision."

"Jesus, you're bloody lucky!" Olivia said, shaking her head slightly and taking her sip of rum and coke. It was always rum and coke when we were out in a bar like this. She had this thing about the straws, she said men found it attractive when women drank from straws. She did continue on about how she heard about it, but it was something crude and I had to quickly change the subject.

"I don't feel lucky! I'm back right where I started!" I groaned.

"But at least you have a job again!" Olivia raised an eyebrow at me.

"Miss Mark?" someone called from behind me, which made me jump. I turned around and to my shock I saw the face of that handsome dark blonde man that had interviewed me at the hotel. I just stared in amazement, my mouth slightly ajar. "I thought I recognised your voice!" He smiled and stepped up to our table.

"Oh, hi! S–sorry," I stuttered.

He looked even more handsome than before. He was wearing a lovely grey suit that looked very expensive. Like one of those tailor-made suites some men have when they have the money to splash out. Underneath was a black shirt and a slightly loose navy tie.

His smile widened. "What you sorry for? Or did you do something to my car after you left the interview last week?"

"What? No!" I gasped, as Olivia looked between me and my strange new handsome friend.

He laughed. "I was joking!"

"Oh."

"I'm glad I've bumped into you, actually. I tried ringing you last week but couldn't get through," he continued.

"You did?"

"Yeah, on Friday."

I frowned. I don't remember getting a call, except for that creepy guy that—

My face dropped in realisation. "Wait, I did have a missed call! I tried ringing back but a guy called Jason picked up?"

"Yeah." His face dropped slightly at the mention of the name. "Sorry about that. I was at his apartment when I tried calling you on Friday. I must have put my work mobile down or something. He has a habit of answering it. It's my own fault."

"He was bloody rude!" I frowned at him. Trying to feign anger. Although I was far from angry. I was mostly just shocked that this guy was choosing to talk to me, especially since my gorgeous friend was sat next to me.

"Oh God, did you hear what he yelled?" Mr Handsome said, his face going a little grim.

I nodded, and just settled with giving him a stern look.

"I'm really sorry about that, he likes to joke about. He's"—he paused, as if looking for the right word—"a bit of a player. He's a good friend of mine, a childhood friend. But, he's a typical guy."

I nodded but said nothing still. I didn't really know what he meant by that.

"I was actually ringing to ask if you are free next Tuesday?"

Olivia gasped.

"What for?" I asked, a little harshly and ignoring Olivia. I hoped the guy didn't hear her. I had noticed he had glanced at her when he came over to the table, but his eyes went straight back to me. It made me feel a little warm inside; a guy choosing to speak to me over my really attractive friend. I wanted to relish in the moment for a little, even though there was no chance he'd choose me over Olivia.

"An informal chat this time; no horrible interview panel," he replied.

"Thanks, but I'm busy," I said in a fluster. I hated the words that came out of my mouth. But it was true, I was busy. I started my new job next week.

"Oh, then maybe next Wednesday instead? In the afternoon? We could—"

I shook my head and interrupted him before he had chance to answer; "I'm working. I found a job. I start next week."

"Ah, that's a shame," he said, actually looking genuinely upset about something. I frowned at him, curious to know why he was upset. "Well, if you change your mind, or you have a free moment..." He dug into his blazer and took out a business card from a hidden inside pocket. "Ring me, the number on the front is my company number, and this"—he took out a pen from the same pocket and started to write something on the back—"is my personal number, just in case."

"Err, thanks," I said, unsure what else to say as I took the card from him.

Was he hitting on me?

I felt nervous suddenly. He was exceptionally handsome. I surely wasn't that lucky? Or was he just wanting me to come in to the hotel peacefully so that he could have a chat about what I did? Maybe I did something illegal and he wanted to press charges?

"Oh, and if you get through to Jason again, don't take what he says seriously, he's, err, how can I say this nicely? He has issues."

"Issues?" I asked.

He nodded. "He's an alcoholic."

"Oh, that's awful, I'm so sorry."

Something flicked across the handsome man's face, as if he wasn't expecting me to actually feel sorry for the guy, but instead feel disgusted. But I knew what it was like to know someone with an alcohol problem; I used to work with someone who had the same addiction in my last job. It was the reason I left. It was very distressing to see.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," he said. He smiled and went to walk away, but he turned back around as if remembering something and said; "Oh, and my name is Daniel Jefferies, but call me Dan."

I nodded weakly as he wandered off, after giving me another smile and a polite nod to Olivia.

"Fuck, he was hot!" Olivia finally said, fanning herself with a beer mat. I just hit her on the arm lightly but she just giggled.

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