Freddie just snorts, shaking his head. “Right. Sure. And I bet they also pushed you to your absolute limit in the weight room, huh?”
I smirk. “What can I say? I’m just naturally built different. I don’t need rest, beautiful. We go all day, baby!” I hoot.
Freddie mutters something about my ego being the size of Colorado, but he disappears behind the counter before I can throw something at him.
Whatever. He’s not wrong.
I refocus on the barbell in front of me, let the burn in my arms take over. There's something satisfying about it—simple, straightforward. Pain in, results out.
Unlike, say... last night.
Last night was supposed to end with me in someone else’s bed. Ideally with her moaning my name, then me slipping out before she asked something horrific like “What are we?” I'd send a charming DM later—So sorry, brunch with the boys, you’re stunning, had a blast, xoxo.
Instead, I walked home with my sister and her boyfriend like a sad little man who peaked sophomore year.
That cannot be my narrative this year.
I push through the last few reps, frustration bleeding out of me with every lift. By the time I’m done, showered, and back home, I feel lighter. Focused. Ready to get my shit together.
Until I see my laptop on my desk. Still unopened. I glare at it.
It’s not like I’m a bad student. I just... don’t have to try that hard. Studying’s always come easy to me, which means checking my inbox isn’t exactly a core part of my daily routine. Admin stuff? I usually skim and move on. But nowI’m wondering if I missed something important for the Future Innovators comp.
When Tara brought it up last night, I played it cool—but if I’m honest? I got a little twist in my gut. One that whispers…what if you didn’t make it?
I towel off my hair, sigh, and finally sit down. Might as well rip off the band-aid.
Inbox. Scroll. Scroll, scroll and…
Subject line: UMS x Future Innovators: Competition Acceptance & Next Steps
Boom.
Let’sfuckinggo.
A slow grin spreads across my face. Iknewit. I mean, yeah—I’m top of my class. But it still feels good to see it confirmed in writing, y’know, officially. No room for doubt.
Then my eyes catch a section I missed on the first pass.
To simulate real-world innovation, participants are required to collaborate with a partner from a complementary discipline.
...Right.
So, Alfie was right. This thing’s partnered.
I lean back in my chair and swing my leg over the side.
This is fine. I’ve made enough connections at UMS to cast a wide net. I’ll throw a few feelers out, see who bites. Maybe someone smart and hot, if the gods are smiling.
Worst case, I’ll charm some poor bastard into letting me handle the big-picture stuff while they stress over the numbers.
Come on.
I’m Troy fucking Hawkins.
This is what I do.
I scroll the participant list, half-skimming names until one stops me.
