Sugar sugar baby

[1] The interview

I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection as I adjusted my tie for what felt like the hundredth time. Senior year at UCLA, and this was it—the moment where everything I'd worked for was supposed to start falling into place. My name is Tristan, and I'm half white, half Chinese. It's a mix that's always made me stand out just enough for people to ask, but never enough for them to really care about the answer.

I ran a hand through my short, black hair, which was freshly cut and styled, trying to make myself look as professional as possible. My skin had that light, golden tan that came from spending too much time outside between classes and the beach, but today I needed to look like someone who belonged in a corporate setting. Someone who was about to crush an interview.

The suit I had on was nothing special—navy blue, clean-cut, but definitely not designer. It fit well enough, though, and right now, that was all that mattered. I glanced down at my shoes, polished to a shine, hoping they would somehow make up for the nervous energy coursing through me.

"Alright," I muttered to myself, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension. "You've got this. It's just an interview."

But I knew it wasn't just an interview. It was the interview. Reed Estates, one of the biggest real estate firms in Los Angeles, wasn't the kind of place that hired just anyone. Getting an internship there would mean connections, prestige, a fast track to something bigger. If I nailed this, I could have my foot in the door to a career I'd been working my ass off for.

With one last glance in the mirror, I grabbed my briefcase—more for show than anything—and headed out the door, my heart already racing as I tried to mentally prepare myself for what was to come.

***

The bus ride to Reed Estates felt longer than usual, the LA traffic doing nothing to calm my nerves. When I finally pulled up to the gleaming high-rise building in Century City, I took a deep breath, trying to focus. The sleek glass facade and towering structure seemed to mock me, as if daring me to walk in and prove that I was worthy of being there.

As I stepped into the lobby, my eyes widened slightly. Holy shit. This place screamed wealth and power. The floors were polished marble, the walls lined with abstract art that probably cost more than my tuition. The receptionist's desk was a massive slab of granite, and behind it, a beautiful woman with a tight smile directed people where to go.

But what caught my attention immediately was the line of people stretching across the lobby, each one dressed to impress. Fk. I wasn't the only one gunning for this internship. Far from it.

I glanced down at my outfit, suddenly feeling a pang of insecurity. Was I overdressed? Was I underdressed? Did I look like I belonged here, or did I look like someone who was pretending?

I swallowed hard and walked toward the line, trying to keep my posture straight and my expression calm, but inside, it felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest.

A guy in front of me, wearing a gray suit that looked tailored to perfection, turned around and gave me a once-over. He had that slick, LA confidence that I couldn't stand, and he flashed a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"You here for the internship too?" he asked, his voice casual, like this was just another day for him.

"Yeah," I replied, nodding as I shoved my hands into my pockets. "You?"

He laughed lightly, looking me over again. "Obviously. But hey, good luck, man. You're gonna need it."

I forced a smile, even though I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. "Yeah, you too."