Page 30 of Between the Blue
“Been there, done that,” he states. “Wasn’t impressed.”
I open my mouth to retort, but then see an older man walking just behind Ben with his brows raised. He looks between us quickly before shaking his head and strolling off.
I feel heat rush to my face, but choose to ignore it.
My eyes shift back to Ben, but he’s already turning away.
I practically sprint to Tiffany’s office after Mr. Hartmann’s class.
I fantasize about all of the information Tiffany could possibly have to relay to me as I dart through campus towards the academic office building.
I wonder if she has my schedule in hand. Or if she’ll be able to tell me what I’ll be expected to bring. I already know what to wear on my first day. I’ve had that outfit picked out for months. But I may need to take out some of my nicer camera lenses. I might even need to buy some film. COBO has done some shoots in the past with more of a vintage artistic feel. My mind begins to race with all of the possibilities. What if Tiffany has specifics on the campaigns I’ll be working on? The corners of my eyes well with tears and butterflies flutter in my tummy as the excitement over my dream opportunity feels like it's truly setting in for the first time.
I fly into the door of the waiting area, completely bypassing the check-in desk and the woman sitting at it as she tries to get my attention, calling out “She's expecting me!” over my shoulder as I head straight for Tiffany’s office. I force myself to pause in her doorway just long enough to rap my knuckles against the doorframe.
Tiffany glances up from the paperwork she’s looking at, her head pulling back when she registers that it’s me. “Oh, Addison!” she squeaks. “Hi there.”
I take that as my cue to walk in and plop down in the chair in front of her desk. “Hi, Tiffany,” I say, setting my tote bag at my feet and pulling my notebook out of it. When I look at her face again, I see a smile spread across it.
She did nothing but smile the first time I met her, but something looks a little different about the expression on her face this time. I recognize that it feels stiffer, more strained.
“I didn’t realize you were here yet,” Tiffany says, her eyes falling to the phone on her desk as she taps a few buttons on it. I realize she’s probably wondering if it’s broken, considering the woman at the front desk didn’t let her know I was on my way.
Well, because I didn’t give her a chance to.
That must be why Tiffany’s smile looks off. I just caught her off guard.
“Sorry,” I tell her with an apologetic grin. “I may have forgone the check-in system. I was just a little anxious to meet with you.”
“Were you?” Tiffany asks, not quite meeting my eyes as she takes a moment to organize some things on her desk.
“Definitely,” I reply. “I’ve pretty much thought about nothing else since getting your email this morning. I just can’t wait to hear what you have to tell me.” Tiffany flashes me a tight-lipped smile, but then doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds. “You heard back from COBO, right?” I ask her.
Tiffany taps some papers in her hand on her desk until they’re in an even stack and then lays them gently on her desk in front of her. “I did,” she confirms.
I practically jump out of my chair, unintentionally scooting it a few inches closer to her desk. “And?” I prompt, not sure why she’s making me drag the information out of her. “Did they say they were ready for me to start my internship next week?”
Tiffany blows a breath out of her nose, and even though it’s very subtle, I immediately pick up on it. And something about that breath makes me worry. But it’s not until I see the smile fully fade from her face for the first time ever and watch in slow motion as she stands up from her desk and walks around it to stand in front of me that I know for sure.
Something is very wrong.
She leans against the desk. “Addison…”
I’m on my feet before I can stop myself, taking a weak step backwards. “What happened?” I mutter, my eyes wide and searching her face.
Tiffany’s lips roll into her mouth. “So, it seems there was some miscommunication.”
“No…” I breathe, shaking my head.
How could there be a miscommunication when I sent approximately two hundred emails to them?
“It appears that COBO typically doesn’t take on interns,” Tiffany says. “They prefer to work with established professionals over–”
“Over students. I know that,” I interject. “But I got in contact with someone on the editorial staff there–Lauren, that was her name– and explained my situation.”And that it was my greatest dream and that I would do anything it took to be allowed the opportunity, I think, but don’t add. “I sent over my portfolio. We had to exchange several emails back and forth, but they eventually agreed and decided to invite me on as an intern.”
“I know, Addison,” Tiffany nods, her eyes full of sadness. “I saw the emails.”
I run a frustrated hand through my hair. “Then what gives?” I demand, that somehow being the only intelligent response I am able to form as I watch everything I’ve been dreaming of for months crumple before my eyes.
