Hours later, after enduring a car ride with smelly, talkative coworkers who ignored me, I stood in front of my bathroom mirror to inspect my reflection.
I hoped I didn’t look like I was trying too hard, but I definitely wanted to make a good impression. It wasn’t as though I had that many dates or boyfriends in my past, but I knew what I wanted, and that was most certainly Jenson Sommers.
The white and black, short-sleeved, pinstriped shirt, which I left open over a tight T-shirt, was new. Yes, I’d gone to the Target near my place and bought a shirt. I paired them with gray slacks and black loafers.
Though I was stocky, I wasn’t overweight, which was a wonder since I sat behind a desk all day. I used a stationary bicycle—Shh, don’t tell anyone—in my apartment every once in a while as I
