Sugar sugar baby

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."The line moved slowly, and with every step, I could feel the tension building inside me. What if I screwed this up? What if I wasn't good enough, didn't say the right things, didn't make the right impression?The lobby was filled with people like me—young, ambitious, all of us desperate to prove that we had what it took to make it in a world that didn't give a damn about us. And as I stood there, waiting for my turn, I couldn't help but feel a little out of place. Reed Estates was the real deal. This wasn't some small-time job at a local firm. This was the big leagues.The line finally moved again, and I found myself standing near the receptionist's desk. She barely glanced up at me before directing me to the elevators. "You're on the 22nd floor," she said, her voice efficient but disinterested. "Wait in the lobby up there until they call your name."I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry, and made my way to the elevators, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me.As the elevator doors closed, I stared at my reflection in the polished metal walls, trying to convince myself that I belonged here. This was my shot. I just had to nail it. But the more I thought about it, the more the doubt crept in.What if I wasn't good enough?When the doors slid open on the 22nd floor, I stepped out into another sleek, modern lobby, this one even more impressive than the one downstairs. A few people were already waiting—sitting in plush chairs, flipping through their resumes, looking like they didn't have a care in the world. I took a seat in one of the chairs, clutching my briefcase a little too tightly.A woman in a pencil skirt and crisp white blouse approached, her heels clicking sharply against the tile floor. "Tristan?"I looked up, my heart skipping a beat. "That's me."She gave me a tight-lipped smile. "You're up next. Follow me."I stood, my legs feeling a little shaky as I followed her down the hall, my mind racing with everything I'd rehearsed for this moment. This was it.As we approached the door to the interview room, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was about to come. No more second-guessing."Good luck," she said, her tone neutral, as she opened the door and gestured for me to enter.I stepped inside, and there, sitting at the head of the table, was the woman who would change my life forever.But I didn't know that yet.***The room was bright, the floor-to-ceiling windows letting in natural light that bounced off the sleek white walls. It was the kind of office you'd expect to see in a movie—a corporate paradise where deals were made and lives were changed. I stepped inside, feeling a wave of nerves crash over me. This was it.Sitting at the long conference table were three people, all dressed in designer suits, each one of them staring at me with the kind of intensity that made my skin crawl. In the center was a tall, silver-haired man, his posture perfect, his eyes cold and assessing. To his right, a woman with sharp features and a perfectly tailored black blazer sat with her arms crossed, looking like she'd already made up her mind about me. And on the left, a younger guy—mid-thirties, maybe—was scrolling through something on a tablet, barely acknowledging my existence."Tristan, right?" the silver-haired man said, his voice deep and commanding. He didn't offer a smile, just a slight nod as he gestured for me to sit."Yes, sir," I said, trying to keep my voice steady as I took the seat across from them. My palms were already sweaty, but I kept my hands tightly folded in my lap, trying not to let the nerves show."Tell us about yourself," the woman on the right said, her voice sharp and businesslike, as if she was cutting through the bullshit right from the start. "Why do you want to intern at Reed Estates?"I took a deep breath, launching into the speech I'd been rehearsing in my head for days. "I'm a senior at UCLA, majoring in business administration. I've always had a passion for real estate, and Reed Estates is one of the leading firms in the industry. I believe an internship here would give me the opportunity to learn from the best and contribute to a company that's making real changes in the market."I watched as the woman's eyes flickered with what might've been the tiniest hint of approval. The silver-haired man nodded slightly, but his expression didn't change."Interesting," he said, his voice low. "But everyone says that. What makes you stand out from the other candidates?"That was the question I'd been dreading. What made me different? I didn't have the fancy internships on my resume, or the connections that half the people in the lobby probably had. All I had was hard work, determination, and a degree from UCLA that hadn't even been completed yet."I think what sets me apart," I began, choosing my words carefully, "is that I'm not just interested in real estate from a business perspective. I understand the importance of building relationships with clients, of creating trust and long-term connections. I've always been good with people, and I think that's one of the most valuable skills you can have in this industry."The younger guy on the left finally looked up from his tablet, raising an eyebrow. "Good with people, huh? Can you give us an example?"I swallowed hard, my mind racing as I tried to come up with something that didn't sound rehearsed. "I spent the last summer working at a startup, helping manage client relations. We had a particularly difficult client who wasn't happy with some of the decisions we were making, and I was able to step in, communicate effectively, and find a compromise that worked for both sides. In the end, we not only kept the client, but they ended up referring us to several other businesses."The woman on the right nodded slightly, her arms still crossed, but I could tell she was listening more closely now. "Communication is key in this business," she said, her tone less icy than before. "But this isn't a startup. This is high-stakes real estate. Do you think you're ready for that?"I paused, the weight of her question hitting me. Was I ready for this? The truth was, I wasn't sure. But I couldn't let them see that. Not now."I know this is a competitive industry," I said, sitting up straighter in my chair. "But I'm ready to learn. I'm ready to work hard and prove that I belong here. I know I have the skills to succeed, and I'm willing to put in whatever it takes to make that happen."The silver-haired man exchanged a glance with the woman, and for a moment, I couldn't tell what they were thinking. The younger guy was back on his tablet, tapping away, probably already thinking about the next candidate.The man leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in front of him. "You seem confident, Tristan. That's good. Confidence is important in this business. But so is resilience. We deal with rejection, tough clients, and difficult markets. How do you handle pressure?"This was it. The final test. I took a deep breath, letting the words flow out naturally, the way I had rehearsed in front of the mirror so many times. "I thrive under pressure. I know that sounds like a cliché answer, but it's true. When things get tough, I focus. I find solutions, and I don't back down from challenges. I've faced setbacks before, but I always come out stronger."The man studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Thank you, Tristan. We'll be in touch."The interview was over. I stood up, shaking hands with each of them, trying to ignore the fact that my palms were still a little sweaty. The younger guy barely glanced at me, but the woman gave me a slight smile as I left the room. The silver-haired man remained as unreadable as ever.As I walked out of the office and back into the lobby, I let out a breath I didn't even realize I was holding. It was done.***Three days later, I sat in my tiny apartment, anxiously checking my email every five minutes, wondering if I'd made the cut. My phone buzzed, and I snatched it up, my heart pounding as I saw the email notification from Reed Estates.I opened it, my eyes scanning the words quickly, and then... there it was."Congratulations, Tristan! We are pleased to offer you a position as an intern at Reed Estates."I let out a loud whoop, jumping up from my chair as the wave of relief and excitement washed over me. I'd done it. I had actually done it. I made the cut.I immediately grabbed my phone, calling my parents to tell them the good news. As I paced around the apartment, telling them how the interview went and how I'd just landed the internship of a lifetime, I couldn't help but smile.This was it. The start of something big.Q: Would is your dream internship?