I sigh as I add a photo of my drawing to the last slide of my presentation. Maybe if I go over my allotted time slot, I could hold off on showing this tragedy.
Now that’s an idea. I wipe my damp forehead before packing up all of my supplies. “Here goes nothing.”
I enter the conference room with my head held high. Everyone smiles up at me before resuming their tasks, and I take a seat toward the back. Despite the group lunches and brainstorming sessions, I still feel like an outsider. My addition to the team was anything but traditional, and I’m afraid people think I’m being favored because I fast-tracked my way into a Creator job.
Jenny walks into the room and starts up the projector. “So who wants to go first?”
A bunch of hands shoot into the air. I don’t bother lifting my arm because worry weighs mine down like an anvil.
Jenny calls on the Creator closest to her. They stand at the front of the room and crush their presentation on an update to Princess Cara’s Castle. While their idea is nice in theory, it’s just that. Nice. Not riveting or enthralling, and even Jenny can’t suppress her yawn halfway through the discussion.
The conference room door slides open and everyone’s heads turn toward the sound. The presenter stops mid-sentence.
No! As if this day can’t get any worse. Rowan waltzes into the space without a care in the world. Today he wears a gray suit that has my mouth watering and my thighs pressing together. The charcoal color brings out the severity in his gaze. His muscles shift under the luxurious fabric as he settles into the chair at the front of the room.
“Proceed as usual.”
His air of authority shouldn’t be considered an attractive trait to me, but there’s something about the way he commands a room that has me wanting more.
The rest of the team sits pin straight in their chairs as the presenter finishes their speech. One by one, Creators take the podium. The series of ideas all follow a similar pattern—some updates here, some immersive line experiences there. I begin questioning if my presentation is too bold for this kind of setting, especially with Rowan right there.
With each presentation, Rowan’s frown becomes more pronounced. His reactions add to my already fraying nerves. I’ve suffered from stage fright since I was a little kid, but I don’t remember it being this bad. My hands remain permanently clammy and my breathing grows heavier with each presentation.
“Zahra. You’re up,” Jenny calls out.
I rise on wobbly legs. If the pressure I placed on myself wasn’t enough already, now it’s hit a whole new level of distressing with Rowan’s gaze glued to mine.
“Move along with it. I have another meeting in twenty minutes.” Rowan taps the face of his watch with finality.
I’m tempted to run out the door, but I control the urge and set up my presentation. With a deep breath, I dive into explaining my idea. I feed off the team’s nonverbals, letting their nods and smiles boost my confidence. My self-esteem grows, and I nail my entire explanation without passing out. I count the entire thing as a major win.
When I get to the dreaded final slide with the drawing, I click it so fast that the black screen pops up not a second later. Jenny’s timer rings simultaneously, and I thank the big man upstairs for saving me. “Looks like I’m out of time.”
People clap and Jenny looks over at me with a massive grin and a thumbs-up.
“Go back to the last slide.” Rowan’s voice hits me like a bucket of ice water.
“Oh, it’s nothing important. Just a mock-up. And you have a meeting now anyway.”
His nostrils flare. “I wasn’t asking.”
Of course you weren’t. That requires the kind of manners you’re severely lacking.