Page 23 of Between the Blue
When I reach the booth again, I stop. Just stare. I can’t take my eyes off her.
She feels it. “What?” she asks me, looking up.
I’m honest with her. “You’re just…not something I could have expected.”
“Ah,” she nods. “Well, that’s your first mistake, Ben.” She leans forward on her elbows. “Stop expecting anything in life.”
She taps my nose with her finger. Tries to pull away, but I wrap my hand around hers. Just hold it, feeling her.
Her smile falls a second. I see her throat bob. She tugs on her hand. I let her have it back.
“And stop skating backwards, hockey star. There’re kids.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I tell her.
Then I take off backwards.
She rolls her eyes. Shakes her head. Turns to the computer.
Dreamscomes to an end.
She begins the next song.
Shania Twain.That Don’t Impress Me Much.
six
HER
“Are you serious?”
I’m not sure what I expected my student advisor’s reaction to be when I told them I haven’t heard once from the company I’m supposed to be starting my internship with in just over a week, but the smile I thought was permanently plastered onto her face completely disappearing and the deep crease forming in her brow was not the least bit reassuring.
“Unfortunately,” I confirm, rubbing the back of my neck, letting my gaze fall to the pink bedazzled nameplate on her desk that readsTiffany.
Tiffany’s rosy lips press together, her bright blue eyes blinking twice before her face resets, her smile reappearing.
“Well, that’s not ideal,” she says, attempting a casual chuckle as she turns towards her computer and grabs a notepad. “But I’m sure there’s just been a mix up. COBO is such a well-oiled machine and a highly respected company.”
“I know,” I agree. “I’m not sure what’s going on.”
“Well, don’t let yourself worry about it for another minute,” Tiffany says, scribbling a few notes down. “We have several members of our board and faculty that have close personalrelationships with people over at COBO. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“Thank you. I’d really appreciate it.” I glance down at my watch, seeing that my editorial photography class starts in five minutes. “Sorry,” I say, standing from my chair. “I have to get to class.”
“Oh, of course,” Tiffany nods, motioning for me to see myself out. “I’ll give you a call as soon as I know more, Addison. I know it’s a little stressful right now, but I promise we’ll get whatever it is worked out.”
“Okay,” I swallow, trying my best to believe her.
Let her do her job, Addie. You don’t have time to stress over this any more.
“Thank you, again.” I give her a wave as I head out of the door.
It’s going to be fine.
When I said that I was always up for a challenge, I think I underestimated just how much of a challenge Mr. Hartmann’s little comfort zone project was going to turn out to be for me.
I’m usually never one to procrastinate, and I tried not to when it came to this, but something has just had me overthinking it.
