Track 2 You’re On Your Own, Kid
AUDREY
“Come on, come on, come onnnn!” I refreshed my inbox for the umpteenth time, but my email inbox remained the same.
No new messages. No delivery alerts. No acceptance message from the Postscript Scholars Program.
Sighing, I put my phone away and stepped out of the bathroom stall.
Walking over to the mirror, I stared at my reflection as the walls pulsated with the dance floor’s music.
My glittery gray eyeshadow was layered too thick for tears to fall through.
Tonight was my celebration night for being valedictorian of my university, for being the first person in our campus history to be named as a Fulbright, Rhodes, and Embassy scholar, but the one I’d been dreaming of for years was still ghosting me.
Maybe my admissions essays weren’t strong enough…
“No, that can’t be…” I muttered to myself, tearing a tissue from the box. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”
“What the hell are you doing in here, Audrey?” My cousin Cecelia burst into the bathroom. “It’s been twenty minutes!”
“Nothing, I was just…” I feigned a smile. “I was just thinking about some things.”
“What a coincidence.” She moved closer to me. “I was thinking about some things, too. Mainly, like how freakin’ lame you are.”
“Thank you, Cece.”
“You were checking your email in here, weren’t you?”
“No, I was not. I was just thinking like I said.”
“Give me your phone.” She held out her hand.
“I left it out there on our table.”
“Bullshit, Audrey.” She narrowed her eyes. “Give me your goddamn phone.”
I stared at her, weighing my options. I could knock her down and get out of this club within ten seconds, and then I’d be free to spend my night how I wanted: in pajamas, with my constant refreshing only bothering my kitten and no one else.
Before I could consider making a run for it, I remembered that she drove us here.
“Don’t make me hurt you, Audrey.” She wiggled her fingers. “Now.”
“Okay, fine.” I handed it over. “I was just, you know, checking before I sent in my intention letter for nursing school.”
“You’re still waffling on that?” She tucked my phone into her purse. “I thought the plan was clear: gap year to enjoy life, and then nursing school because the starving-author life isn’t for you.”
“Gap year” only if I didn’t get into the program. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”
“Well, please stick to it and stop keeping everyone waiting to celebrate you.”
I nodded and followed her out into the club. Strobe lights and heavy bass greeted me, making me remember exactly why I’d avoided clubs as much as possible during my undergraduate years.
As we approached the booth where five of my classmates were standing, Cecelia lifted a glass of wine.
“Okay, now… Cheers to Audrey—for all four years on the dean’s list!”
They cheered, and I smiled.
“And for getting into every single graduate program she applied to!”
Almost every graduate program… I stared at my wine.
“Raise your damn glass, Audrey.”
“Shouldn’t you amend the toast first?” I asked. “I don’t want to celebrate a fake achievement.”
“I swear on everything,” she whispered under her breath, “don’t make me fucking hurt you in front of your fellow nerds…”
I immediately lifted my glass.
“Now, like I was saying—” She looked around our circle. “Congratulations to the best writer we’ve ever known!”
They cheered, and I took a large gulp.
“What the hell?” I spat it out, coughing as the alcohol scorched down my throat. “What type of wine is this, Cece?”
“Wine?” She arched a brow. “It’s Everclear, silly. We can’t turn up for a night out on wine.”
I shook my head, coughing up the rest.
She signaled for the waiter, and he immediately ran up to us.
“How may I help you ladies tonight?” he asked.
“Can we get something that’ll help this one relax and enjoy her night, please?”
“Something to drink or… something private?” He winked at me.
“Something to drink,” I said. “Preferably something that won’t kill me.”
“I got you.” He smiled at me before disappearing, and Cecelia shook her head.
“He was flirting with you,” she said. “You were supposed to say, ‘The latter. Where should I meet you?’”
“And if he’d said ‘my place’?”
“You would’ve let him dick you down, and then you would’ve told me all about it.”
“You’re the most immature person I know.”
“I’m very proud of that honor.” She laughed, and for the first time this week, I laughed, too.
The waiter returned with peach mimosas, and I managed to last until the final song without thinking about my cell phone.
A couple hours later
Cecelia pulled in front of my apartment and put the car in park.
“So?” she asked. “How did it feel to go out and get hammered like a normal college student?”
“I refuse to answer that truthfully.”
“It’s okay.” She unbuckled her seatbelt. “I can see the thrill all over your face.”
Stepping out, she walked to my side and opened the door for me.
“Need help getting inside?” she asked.
“No, but—” I grabbed my purse. “Can you check the mail at the center and set it inside for me?”
“Of course!” She waited until I made it to my front door before walking down to the neighborhood hub.
After unlocking the door, I stepped inside and hit the lights.
“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come home tonight.” A familiar deep voice made me turn to my left.
“Craig?” I asked. “Is that you?”
“Who else would it be, babe?”
He stepped from behind the couch, and my jaw dropped to the floor. Buck naked—with the exception of a bright red “Congratulations” tie—he pointed to his half-hardened cock and smiled at me.
“Want to get him completely ready for a ride?”
“How did you get in here without a key?”
“That’s not the topic of conversation, babe,” he said. “Focus on what’s in front of you.”
I mentally calculated how many drinks I’d had tonight, and none of them amounted to a potential hallucination with my ex-boyfriend swinging his half-erect cock in my apartment.
“Um…” I cleared my throat. “I could’ve sworn we broke up three weeks ago.”
“Yeah, but we always get back together, so I figured we’d make up with sex this time.” He grinned. “I think that’s all we’ve been missing anyway.”
“You cheated on me.”
“That was in the past.”
“I literally caught you three weeks ago, hence the breakup…”
“That’s still in the past, is it not?” he asked. “Surely, Miss Super Writer doesn’t need a lesson on past versus present tense from me.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I accepted all your flaws when we were dating.” He stepped closer. “You should accept mine, too.”
“Cheating isn’t a basic flaw, Craig. It’s a fucking fatal one.”
“Then let’s revive it before I start med school,” he said. “I won’t have much time for talking on the phone or going on dates, so…” He smiled wider. “So, stop acting stubborn, hop on this dick, and let’s get back together.”
I shook my head. There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to make me make this level of a mistake.
Scanning the room, I looked for where he’d dropped his clothes and saw them draped on my couch. I walked over and picked them up before tossing them at him.
“I would like for you to leave, Craig.” I kept my voice firm. “Now.”
“That’s what your mouth is saying,” he said. “But what about your body?”
My front door suddenly swung open, and Cecelia stepped inside, her arms loaded with letters and packages.
“Hey, I went ahead and—” Her jaw dropped as she saw Craig. “Uhhh... I’ll just come back tomorrow.”
“Good idea.”
“No, stay.” Craig and I spoke at the same time.
Cecelia blinked between us.
“I was giving Audrey her graduation present,” Craig said, not making a move to put on his clothes. “You can drop those inferior ones at the door and leave. Thank you.”
“Craig was just leaving,” I said, refusing to make this any more awkward. “And if it’s not within the next thirty seconds, I’m calling the cops.”
“Really, Audrey?” He scoffed. “You seriously would do that?”
“Twenty-nine… Twenty-eight…”
“Well, fine then.” He put on his pants, finally. “Good luck finding a man who would put up with you like I did.”
“You don’t have to talk to get dressed…”
“No man is going to want to deal with your emotional issues or your bullshit long nights of writing, which are just excuses because you don’t know how to be close to someone who actually likes you.” He pulled on his shirt. “Spoiler alert: You’ll die alone.”
He walked out, and Cecelia slammed the door behind him.
“I told you that man was delusional months ago.” Cecelia set the mail down on my coffee table. “I won’t waste another second on him, though.”
“Thank you.”
She picked up a huge navy blue envelope that was sealed in deep blue wax. Then she pointed at the sender’s name.
The Postscript Scholars Program.
My heart flipped in my chest, and my fingers trembled, but I couldn’t bring myself to grab it.
“I can’t open it,” I whispered. “You do it.”
“You think they’d waste money on this type of pretty packaging for a rejection, Audrey?”
“I won’t know until you open it.”
“Okay.” She smiled. “Gladly.”
She tore it open with dramatic flair, eyes scanning the contents before gasping. “You got in! Full scholarship. Tuition, board, and their Luxury Graduate accommodations.”
I blinked. “You’re joking.”
“I would never joke about free luxury housing.” She flipped to the next page. “Ewwww!”
“What?”
“There’s a schedule here for like five classes a day, and it says you have to teach some high school students for five hours a week, too…” She squinted. “This is like—college all over again—but without the fun and ten times the work.”
“I can’t believe I got in…”
“I can’t believe you wanted to get in…” She shook her head, continuing to flip through the pages. “More work, more work, themes, things to pack, and oh! There’s a roommate contact form. Do you want to reach out before you go there?”
“I have to think about whether I’m accepting their offer first.”
She shot me a blank stare.
“I was joking.” I smiled. “No to the roommate, though. I’m sure she’s great, and I’d rather meet in person.”
“If you say so.” She shrugged and turned to the counter, clinking bottles as she started mixing another round of drinks.
I picked up the top sheet, rereading the letter until the words blurred.
We are thrilled to admit you into our program and extend you the top scholarship should you accept our offer.
“So, since you don’t have to check your phone for this anymore, I know you’d love to go to another club with your favorite cousin to celebrate this, right?”
“Now?”
“Uh, yeah. It’s only midnight.”
“Okayyy, fine.” I relented and set down the letter. “But only for an hour.”
“It’ll take an hour just for us to get ready again, Audrey,” she whined. “Stop being so lame!”