Cameron Cole has a plan.
After yet another relationship ends because of certain shortcomings-literally-Cameron decides it's time to swear off dating and focus her energy into her junior year at the University of Charlotte. There's an internship up...
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The sky above UC's campus is the same depressing shade of gray it's been for the past week, like the weather itself decided to match my mood and my super duper cute grey slouchy off-shoulder sweater.
I fold my arms around myself as I walk across campus, trying to get to the library before the skies open up and make my day even more amazing.
The sun hasn't made an appearance in days, but this morning, the forecast promised some warmth and blue skies. Lies. Absolute bullshit.
Normally, I wouldn't give a fuck. I've got enough on my plate without obsessing over the weather. But when you're already teetering on the edge of an existential crisis, every little thing feels like an act of war.
Wes had said we would talk "later," but later never came.
Not until last night, anyway, when he'd finally messaged me at some ungodly hour, wanting to meet up. Go for a drive. Talk.
And I...I just couldn't.
Not after the day I'd had. Not after spending hours running the last encounter with his father through my mind on an endless loop.
I'd told him "later" too.
And now, the word feels like it's hanging between us, stretching the space that's already started to grow.
But I can't think about that right now. I don't have the time, the energy, or the emotional bandwidth to untangle the goddamn mess that is Wesley Reed.
Because I'm a big girl and I've got my own big girl shit to worry about.
Submissions for our final portfolios are four weeks away. Four weeks until I hand over everything I've been working toward—the late nights, the constant self-doubt, the endless revisions—to a panel of people who will decide whether I have what it takes to make it in this industry.
And right now, the answer feels like a big, fat ass no.
Lea Beauchamp scheduled this early Friday morning meeting, just like she schedules check-ins with all her students every two weeks.
And normally, I wouldn't be so anxious about it.
Normally, I'd go into her office feeling stressed but hopeful, knowing she'd hype me up while also kicking my ass in the nicest, most Lea-like way possible.
But this is the last check-in before portfolio submissions.
The finish line is just four weeks away, and I am...not where I need to be. Not even close.
And Lea knows it.
Because she notices everything.
She noticed last time, when my renderings were fine, but not great. She noticed the time before that, when I stammered my way through a half-baked explanation of my concept for the rooftop garden project.
