The deal we made

04

It is a normal schoolday, except it isn't. Today is the day I'd meet Chris Larsen. 

I took up Stephanie's advice on the clothes. I stood in front of the mirror, holding up the blouse Stephanie had insisted I wear for my meeting with Chris.

It was a soft, light blue button-up blouse. Stephanie had said the color brought out my eyes. On the bed behind me lay the trousers Stephanie had picked out the night before. They were charcoal gray, tailored, and just the right blend of professional and comfortable.

I slipped the blouse on, carefully buttoning it up, and then reached for the trousers. As I pulled them on, I was relieved to find they fit perfectly.

They sat comfortably at my waist, and the fabric felt soft against my skin. I glanced back at the mirror, taking in the full outfit. It was the perfect outfit to wear to make a good first impression.

"You've got this, Em," I whispered to myself, echoing Stephanie's words from earlier.

At that moment, the door creaked open, and Stephanie popped her head in. "How's it going? Need any help with..." Her eyes lit up as she took in my outfit. "Oh my God, you look amazing!"

I turned to face her, suddenly feeling a little more confident under her approving gaze. "You really think it's okay? Not too much?"

Stephanie stepped into the room and circled around me like a stylist. "Are you kidding? You look perfect. The blue is really working for you, and those trousers, seriously, you look like you could walk into any meeting room and own it."

I laughed, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. "Thanks, Steph. I just hope I can make a good impression."

"You will," she said, reaching out to smooth a wrinkle on my sleeve. "You look confident, you look smart, and most importantly, you look like you. That's what really matters."

I grabbed my bag, giving myself one final glance in the mirror before heading to the door.

——-

After my first lecture, it was finally time for our break. I sat down with my friends and they kept motivating and supporting me.

The day flew by and before I knew it the last lecture was over. Emmy looked over at me.

"Do you want me to walk you to the building?" Emmy offered as the lecture was over, meaning it was time to meet Chris in his office, her voice breaking into my thoughts.

I shook my head, managing a small smile. "No, I think I need to do this part on my own. But thanks for being here the whole day. It really helps."

"Of course," she said, pulling me into a quick hug. "Text me as soon as it's over. I want to hear all about it."

"I will," I promised, stepping back and meeting her eyes. I hoped she could see just how much I appreciated her being there. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck, you got this Em," she said with a grin.

I watched her walk away, the confidence in her step making me feel a little steadier on my own feet.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of the psychology building. This was it. My heart pounded, but there was no turning back now. I pushed the door open and walked inside.

The hallway was quieter than usual, the echo of my footsteps the only sound. And then I saw it, the door at the end of the hall, with 'Chris Larsen, developmental psychology' neatly printed on the nameplate beside it. I stopped in front of the door, my pulse racing in my ears.

For a moment, I hesitated, my hand hovering just above the door. Then, summoning all the courage I had, I knocked, the sound seeming to echo in the silence.

There was a brief pause, and then a calm, steady voice from inside called out, "Come in."

I exhaled slowly, my hand trembling slightly as I reached for the door handle. With one final breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

---

The office was more spacious than I had expected, but sparsely furnished. Bookshelves filled with scientific journals and texts lined the walls, and in the center of the room sat a large, dark wooden desk.

Behind the desk was Chris, hunched over a pile of documents. He looked up at me and I felt the weight of his gaze, far from welcoming.

He looked good. I bet in different circumstances he would almost look hot, like maybe if he didn't look at me as if I'm his worst enemy.

"You're Emily, I assume?" Uhm hello to you too. His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it that made me feel instantly on guard.

"Yes, that's right," I said, walking toward him. I tried to smile, but it felt forced under his scrutiny. "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to work with you."

He nodded briefly and gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk. "Sit." The word was more of a command than an invitation. He set his pen down and clasped his hands together, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I'm not sure if you fully understand what this collaboration entails, Emily. This is not a simple study. It requires precision, dedication, and above all, discretion. I can't afford any mistakes."

His tone left no room for misunderstanding. He was demanding, maybe even impatient. I sat down, feeling my back straighten instinctively. "I understand, and I'm ready to work hard. I'm deeply interested in the impact of early childhood experiences, and I think I can learn a lot from this project."

Chris stared at me in silence for a moment. "I hope so. Many students tend to romanticize psychological research. But this is more than just a few interesting conversations and statistics. It's work that can only be done if you're truly committed."

I felt a flicker of irritation rising, but I kept my voice steady. "I know it's not simple work, but I'm prepared. I wouldn't have agreed if I wasn't."

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze still sharp. "We'll see," he muttered eventually, almost to himself. "Alright, let's start by reviewing the data I've already collected. There's a lot of work to be done, and little time."

He stood and walked to a cabinet, retrieving a thick binder of papers. "I expect you to go through these documents before our next meeting. We'll discuss the analysis you'll be conducting then."

He placed the binder on the desk in front of me with a heavy thud that made me flinch. "And Emily," he added, fixing me with another intense look, "don't make any assumptions. This research is delicate. One wrong move and years of work could be compromised."

His words carried weight, and I could feel the pressure building, but I wasn't about to back down. "I'll do my best, Mr. Larsen."

He nodded absently, already dismissing me as he returned to his seat. "Good. You can go now." Asshole, I bet his research forgot to teach him how to give a person a warm welcome.

I stood, clutching the binder tightly to my chest. As I reached for the door, I heard him muttering to himself, already immersed back in his work. A smile tugged at my lips despite everything. He might not have welcomed me with open arms, but this was a challenge I was more than ready to take on.

I'll let him see I can do it. I'm Emily Smith and I'm good enough for this position. I'll keep trying even if it means I have to stay up all night to prove him and myself that I can do this. The thought of proving him wrong gave me enough motivation to start immediately.