I’m not one to get nervous for things like interviews, but the weight of this seems to be driving my stress up a notch. I feel my pant leg waving against my knee and glance down to catch my leg vibrating with nervous energy. It makes me chuckle to myself and I shift my weight as the woman clears her throat to get my attention.
“No offense, but you don’t look like aLily.” She arches a brow.
I pull my lips in for a tight, guilty smile before taking the ticket from my pocket and moving forward to lay it on the table.
“Keen observation,” I say, putting on my most charming voice. She squints one eye and studies me, less amused than I hoped.
I scratch at my head, mussing up the perfect part I spent way too long on an hour ago. Wincing, I scrunch up my shoulders and come clean . . .ish.
“Lily knew I really wanted to interview with you, and she’s the kind of person who likes grand gestures of kindness. She rather insisted I take the last spot.” I offer a crooked smile and breathe out slowly with relief as the woman across from me seems to ease back in her seat and smile.
“Well, that’s awfully kind of her. You know, my colleague texted me to look out for her. He was impressed with their conversation. You must be an important person for her to give up something she seems to have coveted.” The woman folds her hands together on top of the notepad as she leans back, and the man sitting next to her smirks, tilting his head to the side as he stares at me.
They think this is about a crush.
“You’d have to ask her what she thinks of me. I wouldn’t want to assume.” I swallow, unsure whether I successfully danced around that topic. I could not care less what Lily Beachem thinks of me. She owes me this spot. She owes Anika.
“Well, let’s get to it, then. Mr.—”
“Rothschild. Theo Rothschild. I’m a four-year varsity tight end, well . . . assuming I make the team this year. I feel confident, though. I have a card with my online portfolio address if you’d like to look at my writing.” I slip my wallet from my pocket and slip out two cards. I had these made up over the winter break last year, back when I thought maybe I’d spend my summer interning somewhere instead of guarding my mother’s fragile mental state after my sister’s funeral.
The woman leans forward with a half-smile and slides the card toward her, eyes darting down to read it briefly before looking back at me.
“Nice to meet you, Theo. I’m Abby Quinlan. I’m one of the editors atThe Affiliate. And this is Todd Eschland, head of advertising.” I reach forward to shake both of their hands.
“Nice to meet you both.”
My pulse is finally easing, my body growing more comfortable under the hot lights of the theater stage. The weather in Massachusetts is always too unpredictable this time of year for them to hold this event outside, but why we couldn’t do these interviews in classrooms beats me. Maybe there’s something behind the glare of the lights, a type of interview technique meant to weed out the weak. Seems unfair to those of us wearing full suits and ties cinched around our necks.
“So, you’re more interested in the editorial side of the house, I take it?” Abby says, glancing to her right and making eye contact with Todd.
“I think that’s where my strengths are, yes. I have some experience reporting on student government and winter sports here at Welles. And I’m sure every member of the writing department would—”
“It’s just that you have a certain something,” Todd interrupts.
My mouth snaps shut, and my stomach twinges. I don’t really want to be a salesman, but if this is my only way in, I won’t turn it town.
“Like an X-factor?” I joke.
They both laugh.
“In a way, I suppose. What I mean, Theo, is I like your confidence. And our side of the house isn’t so different from the editorial side. Sure, we must be guarded about how we spin things, but we get to help brands shape their stories through campaigns. I have a feeling you might be good at this. I’d love to have you come down to the offices next week and maybe we could explore it more?” Todd is holding the card I gave him sideways, tapping the edge on the table, and I can tell in a quick scan of their faces that this is the path I’m getting. It happened so fast, but it’s better than nothing, and ad reps make a lot of money.
“I’d love to. Thank you,” I say, reaching for his hand again. We both shake and stand at the same time, and my heart is thrumming behind my ribs with a touch of excitement, even if there’s some fear of the unknown thrown into the mix.
“Lily! Come on over!” A voice behind me breaks through the whirlwind I’ve been tossing around in, and I turn to see the man who was at the main table out front waving a hand toward the girl I just sold as kind-hearted to my interviewers. My mouth could not be dryer.
Lily is hovering around some information technology company’s table, and as much as I shouldn’t care how out of place she looks there, it’s impossible to ignore the nagging voice telling me to be the better person.
Plastering on my best fake grin, I hold up a hand in a wave of peace. It will be a temporary truce, long enough for her to get her shot at this table. Being aggressive and outgoing are not in Lily’s makeup. There’s a reason I didn’t know much about her until Anika forced us to talk. I have my doubts that she’ll be able to relax for this interview. Still, the thought that she and I could be spending an entire semester interning at the same building in downtown Boston has my leg twitching again.
“Here’s my card, Theo. Give me a call tomorrow and we’ll set something up. I have a good feeling about you,” Todd says, urging my attention back to him. I take the card and tuck it in my wallet then fight every urge not to stare Lily in the eyes and warn her off my territory. I can feel her nearness somehow without even looking.
“You must be the one Scott texted me about,” Abby says, standing and reaching out for Lily’s hand.
“I should go—” I turn abruptly, maybe a part of me wanting to run from the scene, but instead of making a smooth exit, I elbow Lily in the ribs. Hard. My bone sinks in, and I have a feeling I knocked the wind out of her.
Confirmed by the way she’s coughing. Or rather, wheezing.