“Brandi. I don’t think we ever got a chance to meet, did we?” He extends a hand, and I meet it with mine, my fingers settling between his, too gently. His palm is warm and soft enough for me to immediately feel self-conscious, but his grip is stronger than I expect. “I know you guys are usually pretty busy.”

“We shared an elevator once,” I say, pulling my hand back. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Taylor stepping away as an Asian girl in a blood-red gown runs up to her, dark tattoos brutal against her deep olive skin. They give each other air kisses. I recognize her from Taylor’s Insta feed. Her heavily lined eyes quickly sweep over me with a sort of baffled indifference, and I feel a little humiliated, but I try to ignore it, that nagging pull in my gut. Our eyes lock for a beat, and I immediately notice there’s something missing in hers.

Simon’s eyes move over me again as if he’s trying to place me. “And I didn’t notice you? Impossible.”

I laugh again, but it sounds as nervous as I’m trying not to feel. “Well, I was transporting a massive rack of samples to the showroom. You probably couldn’t see me.”

“Ah, I see.” He gives me another smile, the lines at his eyes crinkling, and another wave of relief washes over me. He doesn’t think I’m an idiot. There’s a moment...of something, but I’m not sure what. He’s still staring, still smiling. I smile back, nod. Smile again. I don’t know what else to do. What else to say. If he keeps looking at me like this, I’m going to start blushing again. I always blush when I get nervous. I was hoping he would have questions for me. I’m not good at small talk, not good at leading conversations.

I swear I can feel Taylor’s eyes on me from across the room, watching me, almost scientifically, her staring aggressive in its persistence. I glance over but as soon as I do, she looks away. I can only imagine what she sees, what she thinks of me. I stand up straighter. Now that I’ve met her in person, I’m still undecided about her and can’t help but wonder if she is the kind of white girl who thinks affirmative action is racist while she is of the demographic who has undoubtedly benefited the most from it, who calls cornrows Bo Derek braids and enthusiastically belts nigga when her favorite trap song bleeds through the speakers, yet habitually slips into black guys’ DMs to satisfy her BBD itch.

Simon’s voice brings me back. “So, Brandi, there’s what, a half dozen of you in the program? Tell me. Why you?”