Page 9 of Campus Daddies

“Oh, yeah, rules. It meant I didn’t have many, but the ones I had were serious.” Sofia takes my daughter’s hand and leads her to the kitchen table in the breakfast nook, sharing a knowing look with me.

Yes, show off. You’re off to a good start. I bite back my smile, but she sees it and winks.

“Your dad said dinner will be ready soon, but afterward, would you show me what you’re working on?” She sits beside Birdie at the square table, the sun peeking through the curtains highlighting her hair with gold.

She’s a much more mature version of my former student—a fresh-faced freshman and newly-minted mom. This Sofia isa grown woman. An obviously good mom with the way she interacts with Birdie. I’m already convinced she’ll be great for Birdie in a lot of the ways I can’t be.

I turn to the pot of stew, distracting myself from the path those thoughts want to lead.

Once we each have our meal and are settled in, I simply sit back and observe. They’ve maintained a steady flow of conversation, and Birdie keeps making her excited face.

I try not to simply stare at Sofia, and I know I’m failing when she sends me a squinty smile. I lift my brows at her, impressed.

Sofia taps Birdie’s bowl. “Finish that so you can show me your room.”

She does as she’s told, her dark hair falling in her face. I reach over and tuck it behind her ear. Normally, Birdie would bat my hand away. She doesn’t.

Sofia turns to me. “I’ve been trying to up my game with product design. I work for a subscription box service, and every element needs to have a purpose and do its job. It’s a lot, but it’s so much fun to piece it all together. I thought you might appreciate the process.”

She flips open her phone and swivels it toward me. “Sorry for phones at dinner, but it’s not something a lot of my classmates really get.”

I pull her phone closer and peer at the product photos she’s pulled up.

The composition is appealing, an open pink and cream box with a furry white fabric draped around it. Brightly-colored beauty products are placed carefully inside the box, propped upright by pink crinkle paper. Each item seems to work together, even if I have no idea what some of them are.

I flick my eyes up to catch her gaze. Her shoulders pull back as she smirks at me. “What do you think? Did I miss anything?”

Shaking my head, I can’t see anything. The only way I could think to sell them better doesn’t apply to this kind of photoshoot. “Do you have any photos of the items being used?”

“Not photos, just short videos, but I suppose still images can be pulled from those.”

“They can, but it would be better to control the background, the lighting, the general composition in a traditional shoot instead.”

Sofia taps her lips with her fingertip. “You’re probably right. Hmm. Another thing for my to-do list.”

I can’t help my laugh. “The single parent to-do list is never-ending.”

“Boy, you’ve got that right.”

“It would be interesting to see how a subscription box would perform differently with traditional marketing photography versus short-form video versus simply showcasing your use of what’s included in long-form content. I assume you create that as well?” I spear a soft piece of meat and let it melt across my tongue as I give her the time to answer.

“I do, but not like most of what you see on social media. My long form is currently focused on my thesis project.” Her head tips to the side, blonde hair falling away from the way her neck elongates. “I do actually use some of that stuff regularly, and I could pull from my backlog of raw footage. It’s a bit more like product placement in that regard.”

“Yes. Don’t call intense attention to the item, just show it in use during something people already want to see. The subconscious does wonders with it.” I bite back my smile as my daughter groans into her bowl. “You can have control of the conversation back once you’re done with your dinner.”

Another spoonful fills her mouth, and Birdie chews meaningfully at me.

I bop her on the nose. “Precisely.”

“Don’t you think we become immune to it eventually? Every part of our lives is saturated with products and advertising.” She takes another bite, an orange carrot slipping past her lips in a way that makes me pause.

Okay, the image of her sliding other things into her mouth is not appropriate, Braxton. You are old enough to be her father. She’s your best friend’s daughter, for Christ’s sake.

Pressing my mouth into a firm line, I nod. “Yes. You’re right.”

I cringe at the gravel breaking in my voice. Her brow raises.

“We do become immune. Consider it the final hit in a combo. You see the usual ads, you hear about what it does, you recognize it, and then comes someone you’re watching in either a fantasy or living the kind of life you want, and you see the product again. Then,bam, you either realize how badly you want it or your restraint is broken by an impulse. And they’ve got you.”

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