She still thinks my major is pre-med. A surgeon who values STEM education, she wouldn’t want me pursuing a career as risky as modeling.
But I can’t drop out. If I dropped out of college, my mother would die. And my mother saves a lot of lives, so her death would cause other people to die. So, basically, my dropping out of college would be like the plague.
The only opportunity for me to model in Nebraska is Omaha Fashion Week, where amateur designers can showcase their work once a year. Ever since I was old enough, I’ve gone to New York Fashion Week. My father is friends with a few designers, and he was always able to convince their friends to let me walk the runway.
It was the least he could do.
I always invited my parents, but they never showed. Every time I walked past those two empty chairs, there was a quiet ache in my chest—each step a reminder that my parents don’t support my dreams like they do my brothers’.
I get it. I know they’re busy. They don’t want to see each other. But I thought, as their daughter, they’d at least want to be there for me. To support me, even just for a moment, to show they cared about what I was achieving.
Instead, they apologize with money. They pay for everything, anything I could ever want. But the one thing that’s free—the one thing they could give me without a price tag attached—they never do.
Themselves.
I enter my dormitory, pressing the elevator button to go up to my room. As the doors close, a hand slides into the space, making it reopen. I glance at the floor before I can make eye contact with the owner of the hand.
“Well, look who it is. Genevieve Brown. Pity to see you all covered up,” my eyes dart up. It’s Bryce Munson, one of the well-known basketball players on campus. I made the mistake of hooking up with him last weekend. What a waste of such a good-looking man. I’ve been trying my best to avoid him. He’s like a bad rash I can’t get rid of, always itching so I have to acknowledge it.
“Can it, Munson,” I snap back, rolling my eyes for exaggeration.
“Woah, woah!” he says, his hands in the air as if surrendering. The only thing he should be surrendering to is giving the world’s worst head. You already knowI faked an Owith him.
“Sweetheart, did I say something wrong?”
“Let me be clear… I’m not your sweetheart,” I say, wishing this elevator would go faster. Sometimes, it sucks living on the twelfth floor. Elevator rides are the longest.
“Sorry about that, princess. I guess I’ll have to make it up to you some other time,” he says giving me a big, awkward wink.
He thinks he’s all that just because he’s a tall basketball player with decent abs. It’s a shame to waste such a good body on someone who only uses their tongue for saying shit. His personality is the worst!
To be hot in my book, you have to know how to give good head- and that man? He couldn’t find my clit if I drew a big X on it and gave him a map.
Finally, the elevator stops on his floor. Bryce steps out and turns to look at me. As the doors shut, I shout, “work on your head game, then we’ll talk.”
I leave him there with those words to swallow, along with his pride. My last image of him was with his eyes bulging out of his face.
I couldn’t be happier.
I don’t chase men. I don’t chase, period. I don’t chase unless it’s a sale on designer heels. Even then I would still leisurely walk.
When the elevator opens on my floor, I step out heading towards my room.
I shout "Honey, I'm home," as I push the door open to alert Lana, my roommate. We’ve started doing that whenever one of us gets home in case the other is hooking up — though, I’m the only one around here who’s had any luck in that department.
One other perk of carrying my dad’s name around is getting to have one of the bigger dorms as a freshman. But I’m assuming the auditorium my dad donated help him swing this one. Lana lucked out with getting me as a roommate for that very reason. Besides the fact that I’m also the greatest roommate ever.
Lana and I met on an app that matches students looking for roommates. I didn't know anybody coming into this university and I didn't have many friends left in New York. After my dad's affair with an underage girl, nobody wanted to be my friend. Nobody at school would talk to me, so I switched to homeschooling. The only friends I had left were the other kids of celebrities whose parents had done something just as bad as mine.
Then, my parents divorced and my dad moved to get away from us. He went to Los Angeles, where he conveniently had a friend who was casting a show and got him a job despite the allegations. He regained a following and it was like the whole scandal never happened. Ironically, the only one who suffered the most was me and I had nothing to do with it.
The divorce turned my mom into a monster. Dad pulled a few strings and got me into school here, far away from her. Which leads me to my gratitude for Lana. I had no friends, so I was best friends with my two brothers: Cole and Adam. They got me through someof the worst times of my life, when no one would even look in my direction they invited me along on their dates just to involve me. I didn’t mind third-wheeling but I’m sure they got tired of me after a while.
I never knew what it was like to have a real friend until I met Lana. She's the purest, sweetest soul I've ever met. She makes me laugh, listens to me cry, and puts up with my crazy shenanigans. Including that time I made her help me steal some random trophy from a fraternity that ended up being super important and we both had to return it and write apologies to the whole frat. I’m always dragging her goody two-shoes ass into something. She’s the sister I never had.
We’ve formed a sort of kinship together here in college.
I scan the living room of our dorm, but don’t see her. Our dorm has a main living room, kitchenette, bathroom and one large room. The door to our shared room is open and I can’t seem to find her in there either. She must be in class. Unlike me, Lana is studious and loves school. She’s studying to become a writer. She’s lucky. She knew what she wanted to do coming into school and is happy with her decision. I wish my experience was the same.
