Chapter 4 Networking
Chapter four
Networking
Shepherd Kingsley
“Is this seat taken?” Jasmine gestures to the chair my backpack is propped up in.
I set it there to secure a little breathing room.
Given my position as starting quarterback, seats around me tend to fill up quickly with people who would rather ask me about football than work on assignments.
I would have gone so far as to put something in the seat to my left, if it wasn’t for the fact that one of the guys from chess club, Barrett, walked into class with me and sat there.
I glance around, note the extra seats in the room, and smirk. “No, it’s not.”
I tug my backpack off the chair and set it next to my feet.
The lecture hall is composed of a series of risers, each one lined with long tables and several chairs that are a touch too close for comfort.
At the very bottom of the risers is the professor’s desk, and a large smartboard that currently reads Welcome to Entrepreneurial Marketing with Dr. Poulter.
“I know your ego is insufferably large, but did you really need two seats?” Jasmine asks with a huff as she sits down. “What if this class was full and someone needed this chair?”
I give her a flat look. “Then I would have moved my bag like I did just now. Isn’t it a little early in the morning for insults, Chamberlain?”
She pulls a gray laptop out of her backpack. The scent of cinnamon rolls bathes my senses. I resist the urge to inhale a little deeper. Her glossy lips purse in disgust.
“It’s certainly much too early to see your face.”
I huff a laugh and shake my head. “Plenty of women would disagree with you.”
“And I think you already know how I feel about majorities,” she replies.
I smirk. “Does that mean you think the majority of women find me attractive?”
She rolls her eyes and opens her laptop.
The background is a family photo. My coach, Sebastian Holt, and his wife, MJ, are in it, since they’re loosely related to Jasmine by marriage, or something I haven’t quite figured out.
All the Carters and Holts are smiling big.
There are even a few dogs in it. The whole thing is so perfect it makes my chest hurt.
I don’t think my parents have ever had a family photo made.
They’re very hands-off. Once my brother Jason was old enough to drive us both to practice, they stopped coming to watch us play.
Even when we were too young to drive, they would pawn us off on other parents on the team.
We never went without material things we needed or wanted, but love?
We were starved for that. Jason still would be if he hadn’t found his wife, Willow. Yet another way he’s better than me.
I push away the storm of sadness encroaching on my mind and focus on Jasmine. Having her sit next to me is an opportunity I can’t neglect.
“While we’re on the subject of me being irresistible,” I start. She snorts. “I’d like to point out that there are several other seats open, and yet you chose to sit next to me. I wonder what that could mean?”
“That I fell out of a stunt last night at practice and got a concussion?” she suggests sweetly. I raise a brow. “If you must know, I like to sit in the second row of all my classes. I wasn’t going to give up the spot I wanted just because you happen to be next to it.”
“Why the second row?” I ask right as Dr. Poulter announces, “We will begin in a few minutes, as it seems we are missing a few students.”
Jasmine opens up a notes document on her laptop and types the class and date at the top. I reach into my backpack and pull out my laptop as well, wondering if she’ll answer or choose to ignore me.
“It’s just a preference. That’s all,” she says after she finishes typing.
“You don’t want to ask why I chose the second row? I know you’re curious,” I goad her.
She cuts her eyes at me. “I don’t care why you chose to sit here, but I would like to know why you thought you were so important as to need a seat for your backpack. You never said why earlier.”
Because if I told you, you’d think I was even more pompous than you do now.
I lift my Thrashers hat and rake a hand through my hair, then put it back on.
While plenty of people I meet want to climb their way up onto the pedestal my position has placed me on, Jasmine would rather knock me down.
It would be nice if a balance existed between those two sides of the spectrum.
If I could be normal. But that’s out of reach for me, it seems.
“I’m 6’2”.” I gesture over the length of my torso. “It gets cramped in lecture halls.”
She scrunches up her nose. “It’s not that cramped in here.”
“You don’t think so?” I let my legs relax instead of pressing them together. As soon as I do, our knees touch. Jasmine jumps at the contact, immediately scooting her chair closer to the aisle.
“What are you doing?” she hisses.
“Proving a point. There was maybe an inch or two of room between us.”
“You shouldn’t have touched me,” she says, scooting so far she’s almost in the aisle.
“Why? Afraid you’ll want more?”
The two little lines make their appearance between her brows. She opens her mouth to say something, but the professor cuts her off.
“I believe I’ve given everyone more than enough time to arrive.
Those who are still missing will have to endure the embarrassment of entering during the lecture if they come at all.
” Dr. Poulter claps his hands together. “Now, let us begin with our syllabus. I have sent a digital copy into the student portal for all of you, but if any of you are old souls who demand a print copy, you may come to the front to retrieve it.”
A handful of students rise and hurry down to grab the syllabus.
He gives them each a warm smile. His entire demeanor is reminiscent of a kindly old grandfather with his suspenders, clean-pressed clothes, and well-groomed white mustache.
He doesn’t look like someone who would be teaching about marketing in the modern age, but looks can be deceiving, I suppose.
“All right, does everyone have their syllabus, digital or otherwise?”
A murmur of ascent ripples through the room. I bob my head and pull up the syllabus.
“Good! I will go through each line, and please feel free to raise your hand with any questions you might have.”
I scroll through the relatively short document.
Thankfully, the class is on the simple side, with no group projects.
The last thing I need is to have to figure out how to fit yet another thing into my already packed schedule.
I’m barely going to make it to chess club meetings now that the season is starting.
“That’s all for the syllabus, if no one has any questions?
” Dr. Poulter pauses. When no hands raise, he continues.
“Perfect. We have plenty of time to begin our first unit: networking.” He taps on his laptop, and the smartboard screen changes to a series of questions.
“We will start with a hands-on exercise. You will engage in conversation with a person near to you, whoever you choose. There is an even number of students, so there should be no issues in pairing up. Please reference the questions on the board, and take notes. These notes should be placed on my desk or sent to my email by the end of class. Begin!”
I glance at Jasmine, who is staring at her laptop like it’s magically going to turn into a human she can interview. Then I glance to my left at Barrett, who’s already engaged in conversation with the girl next to him.
“Looks like it’s you and me, Chamberlain,” I say to her. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”
I glance up at the questions on the board. Most are fairly basic ones, so it shouldn’t be hard to get through. That is, if the woman next to me doesn’t give me a hard time. She heaves a sigh. Outlook: not good.
“What’s your major?” She grumbles the first question. “Actually, let me guess, it’s underwater basketweaving.”
I let out a short laugh. “Is stereotyping a common practice for you? Just because I play football, doesn’t mean I don’t care about school.”
To be fair, Jasmine’s guess would apply to several guys on the team.
Most of which are guaranteed multimillion dollar contracts when they get drafted, not to mention their existing NIL deals.
They came to school to play ball, and that’s it.
I don’t blame them, but that isn’t my story.
My brother, though, is currently a successful NFL player and always encouraged me to think about life beyond the game.
“I’m a business major,” I answer, then go ahead and answer the follow-up question.
“I chose this major because I figured it would be helpful to know how the industry works when I have to make decisions about my career down the line. I considered pre-law, but I didn’t think my schedule would allow me to do well in that. ”
She nods to show she’s listening and types my answer in her notes.
“What about you?” I ask.
“I’m double-majoring in culinary arts and business.”
My brows shoot up. “You’re a chef?”
She fidgets with the bracelets on her wrist, looking uncharacteristically shy. Something about the look is endearing. “I haven’t earned that title yet, but I’d like to. I want to have my own restaurant one day.”
“That’s amazing,” I say.
One of my favorite things is when people with big dreams talk about them. It makes me feel less alone with mine.
The barest hint of a smile graces her lips. “Thanks.”
Thanks. Such a small word. But that tiny expression of gratitude feels like scoring a touchdown. It gives me hope that maybe, by the end of the semester, Jasmine won’t hate me…or at least not as much as she does now.