“I’m just grabbing my phone,” I say on a yawn, scooping the offending item up from the floor, just where I left it when I came upstairs after talking to Mom and instantly pulled my clothes off in favor of a scalding hot shower. My phone had been in the back pocket of my jeans and that’s exactly where it stayed.
With my phone in hand, I trudge back to bed and slip in the blankets beside Colton where he instantly falls back into a deep sleep, more than content having me in his arms. I curl into his side and as I unlock the screen of my phone, my eyes begin squinting against the harsh light. There’s nothing quite like staring at a phone in a dark room. It’s one of the worst feelings, it’s right up there with stepping on a lone lego.
My eyes slowly adjust to the brightness and as I look over my notifications, I find that my phone must have been going insane all night. There are missed calls and texts from all the boys sure enough having heard of my betrayal against Nic but I can guarantee that they haven’t heard the full story. Milo has been checking in, bored in his small hospital room, and even the girls have been wondering if I’m back, but what woke me was the familiar sound of incoming emails.
I hardly ever get emails unless it’s bullshit spam and promotional stuff that I accidentally signed up for while trying to win a competition, so the fact that I heard that same ping at least four times had my curiosity peaking. Who would even be emailing me now anyway? That's insane. I don’t think I’ve even given my email address out to anyone. I’m pretty sure that the last email I got, that wasn’t Colton demanding I unblock him and wasn’t from Bed, Bath, and Beyond’s latest catalog, was when Colton’s account sent out a notification that I’d gotten a pay rise, and even then, I haven't actually read it. It still sits in my inbox waiting for me to do something with it.
I press on the little email icon and open the app to find the usual mess that is otherwise known as my inbox. There are four new emails, all from unknown senders but the subject titles more than have my attention. These are my student loan applications. I applied to as many as I could that fit my criteria and staring at them now, my stomach sinks.
Why would all four applications come back at the same time? That doesn’t seem normal.
My tongue pokes out and rolls over my suddenly very dry lips as my thumb hovers over the first email, absolutely terrified of reading what’s inside.
If this isn’t what I need it to say … I’m fucked. What am I going to do? I have to get this. I can’t be that girl who doesn’t go to college and doesn’t get my life together. Going back to Breakers Flats isn’t an option for me, especially now. I need to make something of myself. I need to make myself, my mom, and my father proud. Besides, my only other option is to have Mikhail Russo come and claim me as his own. I'm sure that would make my father ecstatic.
Letting out a sigh, I remember that I like to brag about having balls of steel and I suck up the courage to figure out if I’m doomed or not.
I click on the first email and my world stops.
Your application for a student loan has been rejected.
Fuck.
I fly through the emails, checking over the other three, my body freezing with the panic pulsing through my veins.
Your application for a student loan has been rejected.
Your application for a student loan has been rejected.
Your application for a student loan has been rejected.
No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. How did I get rejected? I fit the criteria for every application. I ticked all the little boxes as I went. I shouldn’t have been denied. I should be reading over four congratulatory emails and trying to figure out which option was the best to accept.
This isn’t right.
What am I supposed to do? I need college. It's the only road in my mind that takes me to where I want to go. I refuse to be some girl who lives off her boyfriend's generosity for the rest of my life. I have to make my own way in the world. I just have to. Not affording college isn’t an option.
Tears well in my eyes and slowly roll down my cheek as I read over the emails again and again. What am I going to do? Colton said that if this didn’t work, he could always talk to the dean. Apparently, he owed Charles a favor. Maybe we could work out some kind of payment plan but I doubt that I'll ever make the kind of money to quickly pay off student fees. Mom will insist on helping but I don’t want to do that to her. She should be focusing on rebuilding everything we lost after Dad died, not spending her hard-earned money on me. That’s not fair, and despite the way she insists on doing it, I won't let that happen.
Feeling my tears dropping off the side of my face and splashing against Colton’s arms, I slip out of bed, not wanting to wake and alert him. I’m not ready to share this news with him yet. I need a few hours to process and only then when I’ve finally let it sink in will I have that conversation with him. Besides, I know how it’s going to go
