![]() ![]() she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. Luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘ my sat scores were no where near the average, ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. ![]() bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. She uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. ![]()
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