JACKSON

 

 

I haven't seen Lana outside of class since our last conversation. She didn't ask for any more help, and I thought it best for her to do this on her own. While I want her to succeed, I want her to do it herself, at least when it comes to molding the idea and drafting the business plan.

Only three projects have been invited to return for today’s callbacks, and Lana is the first to present. When she walks through the door, I can barely keep myself from walking up to her and forcing a kiss on her trembling lips. Or from making her come right on that table. It would be so easy, too, because she's wearing an endearing pencil skirt paired with her white blouse, looking so innocent and all business.

I hope she has the rest of the day off, because I desperately want to rip that blouse off and have my way with her.

She said I'm too good for her. This wonderfully strong and troubled girl. She has no idea what those words meant to me. Years ago, it would have been the opposite. I wasn't good enough for anybody, let alone a girl like her. She was of the same opinion when we first met, but she was willing to be convinced otherwise. Letting me in, listening to me was against everything she thought she knew. I saw her struggling through her journey.

Now she's standing in front of us, fighting a battle she hadn’t even considered as an option before we met.

Love is a strong word, but I'm beginning to understand what the meaning behind it could be.

For what it's worth, I'm incredibly proud of her. My girl. My Lana.

She greets us with calm professionalism, but I can tell how nervous she really is by the flickering of her thick eyelashes.

Even now, she's wearing that gigantic ring. It doesn't go well with the outfit and looks almost masculine on her dainty finger. She's touching it, nervously turning it around her finger as she takes her position.

She starts her presentation in a very similar way to last time, which is good, because there was nothing wrong with the basic idea and the way she introduced it. As it is so often, the devil is in the detail.

That particular detail is mentioned toward the end of her presentation, and she changed it drastically. She took my suggestion of not only addressing individuals or small groups of people, but also providing room for local business to make their neighbors aware of their existence and special promotions. That is pretty much what I suggested, but she modified my proposition by limiting this opportunity only to small, local businesses, to give them a head start against big chains, and she also suggests adding a filter mode that will let people decide how much of this advertising they want to see.

I can't stop the broad smile from appearing on my face as I listen to her proposal. She's done great. I'm not surprised, but feel validated in my trust and belief in her. I knew she had something in her, and she does.

Needless to say, she'll get our approval. After this presentation, she has four votes on her side and only one against her, solely based on the fact that she can't code the app herself and - according to my colleague - is thus not qualified to enter this market at all. There are plenty of narrow-minded people in the business world, as well; that prerogative is not limited to Ivy League campuses.

I can tell by the look on her face that she knows how well she did, but I still have to go through two more presentations - one that’s declined outright and the other accepted - before we call her back into the room to tell her the good news.

Seeing her eyes light up, glistening with tears of joy, is even more beautiful than seeing her break and lose control beneath my touch. I want to hug her, celebrate with her, but I can't as long as we are still here.

After everything is wrapped up, I hurry outside to see if she's still around. Lana is standing in the waiting area, idly chatting with the other guy whose proposal was accepted today. When she sees me, she kindly excuses herself and approaches me, pressing her notes against her chest, her eyes beaming with pure joy.

"Mr. Portland," she says, the coy undertone in her voice evident. "Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity."

She winks at me, and I want to spank the hell out of her for being such a tease.

"You did very well," I say, trying my best not to touch her in any inappropriate manner. "You worked well with those suggestions, and you made them your own."

"My roommate helped me," she admits. "She gave me the input I needed."

"Is that so," I reply. "And here I was, thinking it was me who helped you succeed."

She leans in closer, casting a quick glance around before she whispers, "You know you are."

She withdraws and clears her throat.

"Also, even though it pains me to agree with you," she says. "You were right. Failure. Never underestimate the value of it. Mine certainly made this project better than it was before."

I notice that she's fiddling with her hands again, and I look down. She's holding that ring between her fingers, not turning it like she was before, but holding it in a tight grip between two of her fingers.

"Tell me," I say. "This ring. What's the story behind it?"

She instantly withdraws her fingers from the ring and stares up at me, caught in the act.

"It's um... why do you think there's a story behind it?"

"There must be," I assume, taking her hand and lifting it up to my face. "It's such an unusual ring, especially on a hand like yours."

She flinches. "Jackson, not he-"

"It's okay," I say. "I'm just looking at your ring, it's not like we're about to make out."

I pause and let go of her hand, catching her blue eyes. "We'll do that later."

She blushes.

"So?" I ask, nodding toward her hand. "What's the story?"

She sighs and lowers her gaze down to her hand, gently touching the ring.

"It's a promise," she murmurs. "A promise I made with a friend, to myself."

"A promise to yourself?"

She nods. "Yes. A promise to do exactly what I did today - to try to become someone different than my parents."

I'm utterly confused.

"I noticed you wearing that ring the first day I met you," I say. "But you weren't exactly living up to the promise then, were you?"

A sad smile emerges on her tired face. Now that she's no longer carried by the strain of having to present herself, it's quite noticeable how drained she is. I will have to make sure to pamper her in the upcoming weeks to make sure that she has enough energy to study for her finals.

"No," she says. "I wasn't. Contrary to my friend, I didn't follow up on that promise at all. She's already living it, her dream. But I caved in, and did the exact opposite, until..."

She pauses and looks up at me, her blue eyes radiating.

"Until I met you."

The depth of her words hits me right in the chest. When I decided to teach this class, I told myself that I would be happy if I'd manage to reach one student.

Never in my life did I expect this student to reach me as well.