You took a deep breath before knocking on the door. This was your last chance to land a good job, and wasn’t about to mess it up.

"Come in," a deep, familiar voice called from inside.

You stepped in, my heart nearly stopped. Sitting behind the desk was him—the guy you rejected when were your 17. Back then, he was a rebellious troublemaker, always showing up in ripped jeans and a leather jacket. You never imagined he’d end up here, running his own company.

He looked up at me, his expression unreadable. No hint of the boy who once liked me—just a professional, distant stare.

"You must be applying for this job," he said coolly. "Are you sure you're qualified?"