Free All I Ever Wanted by Kristan Higgans

like that were rare in our corner of the state, and it was big news in Georgebury. I wore my favorite skirt and sweater ensemble, bought on Beacon Street in Beantown, trying to look creative and funky and professional. Spent even longer on my hair that day, practiced my answers in the mirror.
    When I walked into Mark’s office, the old attraction came crashing back. He was better-looking than ever, more manly, broader in the shoulders, and he was as nice as could be. Asked me about college and my job in Boston…most of my work there had been trying to make “oily discharge” sound less horrific on drug warning labels, something I acknowledged honestly, getting a good laugh from Mark. He told me he loved the Back Bay and tried to make at least one Sox game a year, chatted about us both moving back to Georgebury. I, in turn, made sure to ask questions about his company, talked about my creativity and excellent work ethic, and agreed that the Sox were looking great.
    â€œI have to tell you, Callie,” he said, glancing again at my résumé, “you’re one of the most qualified people I’ve had in here. This looks really good.”
    â€œThanks,” I beamed, my toes curling in my new shoes.
    â€œI can’t say for sure, since I have a few more people to interview, but…well, I think you’ll be hearing from me. By Friday at the latest.”
    â€œExcellent,” I said. “But take your time. It’s an important decision. You want to make sure you have the right mix of people.”
    He nodded, pleased. “True enough. Thanks for coming in.”
    â€œMy pleasure,” I said.
    I made it to the door, quite thrilled with the interview, not to mention the stir Mark’s physical presence still caused, when he spoke again.
    â€œCallie?”
    I turned. “Yes?”
    â€œDidn’t we make out in a closet once?”
    Bam! My face ignited. “Um…you know, I…don’t…”
    He raised an eyebrow and grinned, slowly. “Callie, Callie. You haven’t forgotten your first kiss, have you?”
    I gave a mock grimace. “Okay, you caught me. Yes, we kissed in a closet. I wasn’t sure I should bring it up in a job interview.”
    He laughed. “I can’t see how it would hurt.” And then he smiled at me, a smile that went straight to my groin, and I held on to the door frame and hoped I didn’t look quite as ruttish as I was suddenly feeling.
    â€œI seem to remember it was quite…nice,” he added.
    â€œI seem to remember that, too,” I said, and my heart knocked around in my chest. “Well. Great seeing you again, Mark.”
    â€œI’ll call you soon.”
    And he did call. I got the job, and though I reminded myself that I was no longer fourteen, that I didn’t want to screw up a really great career opportunity and that romance had no place in a new company, I fell right back in love. He was a great boss—energetic, hardworking, appreciative of the efforts of his small staff. I loved the work…because we were so small, I worked on every project at first, and Mark quickly realized he’d hired the right person, something he often said out loud. He flirted occasionally, told me often that I looked pretty, something he also said to Karen and Leila and, later, Fleur. But he never crossed the line, no matter how hard I psychically ordered him to.
    Until last year, when we were nominated for a Clio.
    We’d landed a job for a children’s hospital, a coup for us, since we were just a few years old, and we wanted to hit a home run. For two days, Mark and I sat in the conference room from morning until well past dinnertime, working through lunches, guzzling coffee, wadding up pieces of paper, talking ourselves blue in the face. What were the advantages of this particular hospital? How we could show people they didn’t have to fly down to Boston to get top-rate care? What