Write Me Off | Complete

chapter one

I've been rejected again.

I don't need to read through the rest of the letter to get the gist, it's always the same no matter which school sends it—thanks for applying for our graduate program, but you're not good enough to come here. Feel free to apply again next year, though. We appreciate all the application fees.

Of course they do. I've been draining my bank account to apply to graduate schools, hoping that they won't just accept me, but also offer me some sort of financial aid. The irony of the situation doesn't escape me. The fact that I have to spend money and pray that a school will realize how desperately I need it is more frustrating than getting rejected from the actual school itself. What's the point of getting accepted into a school if I can't afford to go to it?

"Another no?"

Jenny, one of my two roommates, is leaning against the doorframe of my bedroom. She has a steaming mug cupped in her hands and a sympathetic frown pulling at her lips. This is the second rejection letter I've gotten this month, and each time it's felt like a slap to the face.

"Columbia." I nod, dropping the letter back onto my desk.

"I'm sorry, Abs."

"It's fine." I shake my head and try to pull on a convincing smile as I look back up at her. "It was kind of a reach anyway."

I'll admit, some of the other rejections were a little surprising, but I wasn't actually expecting to get into Columbia. I have a 3.9 GPA, and my GRE scores are pretty good, but to get into Columbia, you can't just be pretty good; you have to be perfect. The only reason I even applied was because my mother lectured me on the phone for half an hour about how I "don't fully apply myself" and how I'll "never get anywhere if I keep dragging my feet."

Honestly, it was one of her nicer lectures.

"You'll get into the next one, Abs. I promise. Plus, none of these other schools even matter because you're going to get into NYU."

She drops down onto my bed, crossing her legs under her, and when she beams up at me with an encouraging smile, her energizer-bunny vibrancy practically ripples through the room. By the excited gleam in her eyes, I can already tell she's not planning on letting me throw myself a pity party over this.

"You know what you need? A night out. One with enough alcohol to forget about grad schools, rejection letters, and whatever else is worrying that pretty little head of yours."

I raise a brow as I consider that. "I'll take the alcohol, but if it requires me putting on anything other than pajama pants, count me out."

Getting wine drunk on the couch while watching The Bachelor sounds pretty great right about now, but knowing Jenny, she's not interested in staying in tonight.

"Okay, I was hoping that would work, but since it didn't...I have a favor to ask." She gives me a please don't kill me look before hurrying on. "And I know you're probably going to say no, so I feel like I should remind you that you love me very much, and I also just watched that entire Ted Bundy docuseries with you the other day, which I think earned me some brownie points that I'd like to cash in right now." She sits up a little straighter, flashing a pleading smile.