The Do-Over(36)
Author: Suzanne Park
Cameron eventually calmed down and the conversation picked up again, going in an interesting and pleasant direction. We all talked more candidly about how hard it was to release a book in a noisy, cluttered online world, and how publishing was like being an entrepreneur because you had to not only create a product but also promote, market, and sell it. I chimed in and said one of my favorite perks was being able to read books by other authors before their release dates, and both Mary and Cam couldn’t wait for that time to come. The room energy shifted from stilted to relaxed. So we had a few things in common. Finding common ground was good for relationship-building and gaining trust.
Mary asked, “I’d love to know what made you finally write a book, Lily. It’s so hard to not only get words on a page but also have the guts to put your work out into the world. What inspired you to be so brave?”
It was a question I’d been asked before by business bloggers and podcast interviewers, but for people in this room, who already knew about publishing, my answer could go more in depth. “Honestly, I hadn’t seen anyone write a book from a perspective like mine. I wanted it to be like a mini-mentorship for people just starting out, giving real-life, practical, actionable advice for those who needed to build their careers from the ground up.”
Both Mary and Cameron nodded as I spoke, but what shocked me most was Cameron opening the spiral notebook in front of him and scribbling notes. I continued to talk about my mission to empower women and help them navigate the complexities of work-life balance, self-promotion, and performance evaluations, primarily in male-dominated environments.
Cameron placed his elbows on the table, put his hands together, and tapped his index fingers on his lips. “This is all very insightful.” He made eye contact with me. “Thank you for sharing your perspective with us, I am so glad you came today.”
While the words he spoke were extremely kind, something about his tone and demeanor was not entirely sincere. A nagging sensation pulled at my chest, but I couldn’t pinpoint anything specific. This was different from the general feeling of angst and worry manifesting inside my chest every day, which was all too familiar for me. My internal alarm bells rang all the time for guys like him, and in response I always had my guard up. But I couldn’t deny the niggling feeling that he was up to something. Or maybe this was just a vibe that guys like him radiated all the time and I happened to have an extra-sensitive douche-o-meter.
When the meeting ended, my editor, publicist, and marketing lead lingered in the room while Cameron and Mary walked with me to the door.
“Looking forward to our event next week,” I said, shaking their hands.
Mary smiled. “Thanks for being part of our launch.”
“See you soon,” Cameron said with a megawatt grin. But for him, my douche detector wouldn’t stop ringing.
Chapter Sixteen
Looking out the window of the engineering library was a great way to alleviate screen fatigue. After working on problem sets for two straight hours, gazing at the oak and maple trees shedding their golden and blood-orange leaves onto the cobblestone provided a much-needed visual and mental reprieve.
A guy wearing a forest-green beanie chaining his bike to the metal railing caught my eye. After locking his wheel, he glanced toward the sky as snowflakes fluttered from the gray clouds. With his full face in view, I could see it was none other than Jake Cho, looking as handsome as ever in his knit beanie and down vest. Despite the near-freezing temperatures, he had on long olive-green shorts. To his defense though, snowfall wasn’t typical this time of year. I would need to dig out my winter coat if drastic drops in temperature were going to be a regular occurrence.
As if Jake could sense me, he looked over at my window and I gasped. My body slithered down the back of my chair and I stared up at the ceiling. Please God, don’t let him know that was me.
For a good minute, I studied the shape of the brown water stains on the textured ceiling panels above my head, then sat upright and looked out the window again. No Jake. His bike was still there. Which meant he was somewhere near—
“Hey.”
I whipped around. Jake took a few steps forward and looked at my assortment of textbooks. “Studying for midterms?”
“Yes.” I slammed my laptop closed so he couldn’t peek at my job research and my sad attempts at writing the first chapter of my book. That meeting with the O’Haras had been a swift kick in the ass: a good reminder that I was here only to finish my degree, and that everything else was a distraction. Frat parties, office hours, socializing—all interferences. The biggest time waster? My stalking victim standing before me, who looked really adorable in his above-the-waist cold weather attire. Go away, Jake.
He bit his lip. “Could I be honest about something, and can you keep it just between us?” Jake pulled off his knit cap, revealing a staticky mess of black and silver hair. I wanted to smooth it out so badly but stayed put in my chair.
What did he want to tell me? We had so much history . . . it could be anything. Was it about our dating past? The weirdness between us the night of the frat party? My stomach clenched and my hands turned cold while my mind cycled through more possibilities.
He dragged a chair from a desk nearby. “I’m telling you this as someone who cares about you.”
I gulped. Suddenly my ears began to ring, and the drumbeat of my heart made it hard to hear his next words.
“As your TA, I have to let you know that your overall grade dropped to an A minus because of the last few homework assignments. An A minus is great, don’t get me wrong. But you won’t be eligible for the internship consideration if you’re not at least ranked in the top ten in the class.” He hesitated before continuing. “And I know you could get there.”
My lips parted with the intention of responding to him, but I didn’t know what to say. Just a few minutes earlier I had been applying to dozens of high-level positions, and this internship opportunity at Solv was for college seniors. So why was I so disappointed in myself?
I had to admit, the last few homework assignments I’d submitted were not my best work, and judging by this conversation, we both knew it. If I wanted a shot at getting my foot in the door at Solv, a bona fide dream company that I would never have been considered for before, one that had high employee retention and always made the top of any “best company to work for” list, I had to try harder. Maybe my ideal job had been dangling in my peripheral vision all along.
There was still time to raise my overall grade. His warning was like lit kindling igniting an intense fire deep within me. “Okay, I’ll take that into consideration when I turn in my homework and prepare for exams. Thanks for looking out for me.”