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Even better, she started with a question I feel comfortable answering.
"Well, my field of study is food and nutrition with a double minor in psychology and behavioral science. Ideally, I want to mentor young girls who are at risk for eating disorders or who are recovering from them. Part of what I want them to understand is that food isn't their enemy. To graduate I need to have an internship and write a thesis in my field. What I'd like to do is craft a menu—your menu, slightly modified—to prove my theory that eating out isn't unhealthy if you know how to manage portion control and balance your diet."
Justine nods as I speak, giving me the confidence to keep going. I lay out the hypothesis of my thesis, my plan to get from theory to factual evidence, and the minor changes I anticipate to their menu based on what I know of it already. By the time I'm finished, I feel out of breath and slightly parched from my endless rambling.
"I like it," is all she says as she sits back in her seat.
"Which part?" I need her to clarify. She can't possibly like all of it, can she?
"Your plan. It's solid. You have a starting point, clear direction, and an end in mind. You have goals, and you know how you're going to achieve them. Or, at least, how you hope to. I think this would be great, not only for you but for our restaurant as well. I can't promise that we'll accept all your ideas and changes, but they will be considered."
"Really?" My cheeks flush slightly when I hear the astonishment in my voice mixed with excitement.
"Really. And I think my son will be the best person to be your point of contact." Shit. "JJ writes most of our recipes. My husband turned them over to him last year when we first started talking about retiring. He will be the best to ask about portion sizes and ingredients. He's only here a few days a week, but if you can make your schedule work with his, I guarantee you'll get the information you need." She's smiling at me as she speaks, and there's a twinkle in her eye.
Is she as excited for this project as I am?
"That sounds perfect. I'll make sure to be here whenever he is unless I have class." I resist the urge to groan.
Being alone with Julian, working side-by-side with him, is going to be challenging. Not in the way most internships are.
I'm sure he'll be helpful and kind. I know he has the knowledge.
It's my nerves that are going to be on edge. My senses heightened.
"My dear, I have a feeling your spirit is going to brighten the mood around here."
"I hope to be a positive influence and not feel like a burden." Locating my internship form, I pull it from my bag and slide it across the table to her. "For my class, I need you to sign this. It says that I'll be working as an intern here until the semester ends or until I complete my project, whichever comes first."
Justine reads over the paperwork, her finger skimming along each line as her eyes follow. When she reaches the bottom of the page, I slide my pen across the table. Once the paperwork is signed, Justine shakes my hands, welcoming me to the team, and I'm out the door five minutes later.
I expected to feel twenty pounds lighter having secured an internship, but if anything, I feel heavier than before I walked through the doors. And I have a feeling it has nothing to do with writing my thesis.
"You're awfully quiet."
It took Alexis twenty minutes to call me out. It was longer than I expected her to wait. To be fair, she was talking the first nineteen minutes of the car ride.
"I was listening to you."
"Yes, but I asked you two questions, and you didn't answer either one."
She did? Maybe I zoned out for a minute. I can't help that I wasn't interested in hearing about how she was almost late to class this morning. Because of Micah. Because she stayed the night with her boyfriend.
God, I sound like a bitch.
"Sorry."
"So, what do you think?"
"About what?" Pulling up in front of Lo and Kendall's building, I let out a sigh when I feel Alexis staring at me in shock.
"What's going on with you? I wasn't going to push you to talk. I figured you'd come to me when you were ready, but it's obvious something is going on, and now you have me worried."
Shit!
Turning the car off, I rest my head against my seat and turn to face my best friend. The words pour out of my mouth faster than I can stop them.
I had a meeting with my adviser today.
