Page 4

The women’s empowerment box she curates and creates content for strikes at a core belief. Her pride shines through, and so much of what she shows reinforces those ideals.

When she stands in front of the mirror and looks at herself, hair a tangled mess on top of her head, face blotchy and red, eyes puffy from crying, and a T-shirt hanging off her, Sofia leans in a little and says, “Fuck. Why does day two always hurt like hell? Treating myself to some dark chocolate and a sad movie.” Her peace sign is half-hearted, and her grimace is too real.

I have to hide my silent laugh behind my hand. Most women I’ve been around who have been comfortable enough to talk about it—which consists of only my sister—it’s always been in snarls and sarcasm.

It’s followed by movies and chocolate. A bubble bath with ruby painted toes peeking out of the soapy water. A glass of wine.

Her summer is glossed in golden perfection, bland but beautiful boredom, and the realities of being a single mom.

It’s the perfect short video to make a viewer fall in love with her a little bit.

When she blows a kiss at the camera and waves goodbye, I sit and stare at her smiling on the screen for a minute, contemplating the way she put this together. Her intention. Where she might go with it given the longer format of her project.

Most of it comes back to the fact that I want to see more.

I turn to Sofia in the flesh. She peers at me with those soft blue eyes, blinking innocently at me. She knows she’s done a good job.

Nodding at her, I fold my hands in front of my chin, seeing if she’ll crack.

Sofia maintains my eye contact without fear. How many people have you had to stare down to make them take you seriously?

“I see you’ve thought this through.”

She grins and brightens. “Of course I did.”

I enjoy that reaction in her. When it’s aimed at me. Like it deepens the connection she’s worked to forge during the video. Such an excellent job she’s done. I bet she’ll go far with this.

“Are you wearing the camera right now?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She nods, taps her glasses, and looks at me meaningfully.

I lean back, taking her in. The woman before me has grown into herself since she was in my class nearly three years ago. I can see her working her way up to producing movies shortly after her graduation.

I can only laugh. “Okay. Approved.”

I motion the paper forward to sign, and she hands it over easily, has it ready for me. Cheeky little thing.

Scribbling my signature across the bottom, I hold it out for her as we both stand. “Good job.”

Sofia’s smile is near blinding. And the jumper she has on is professional even as it shows off her long, curvy thighs, her bare arms, the smooth white skin below her collarbones.

It’s tantalizing.

With a swish of her hair, she pulls her bag over her shoulder. “I won’t take up any more of your time. Unless there’s anything else you need from me.”

The slow blink this time is not so innocent.

I should be shaking my head at her. Instead, I simply let the blast of heat settle over me and promise myself to tackle those feelings later.

3

SOFIA

Sofia Newman, you should not be flirting with your thesis advisor.I chastise myself several times on my way to the conference room to set up for the first Film Club meeting of the semester. It should be a super easy meeting.

I never flirted with him when Professor Trevino was teaching my freshman class. The excitement must have pushed me over that edge, but the way he pursed his mouth at me after my video ended…

The silence he let me stew in before he gave me his approval stirred something in me that I should really, really avoid.