Jade reads through the email but stays on my legs, looking up at me. “Hey, that’s a good start. You have more scholarships and grants to hear about.”
“I’ve already gotten rejection emails from five. Two for not actually qualifying. I misread the list of qualifications. Two because I just didn’t win. And one because they aren’t offering any more scholarships for the next school year but said I could ‘try again for the following year.’ Very helpful.”
Jade gives my leg a reassuring squeeze.
“That leaves four, not including the Walden Senior Scholarship,” I say.
I drop my phone in my lap and scrub my face with my hands. I want the stress of this to be over. It’s the thing on my plate that I want to scrape off because it’s touching everything else on my plate. It’s mucking it all up like gravy on a slice of pie.
Two things could erase my immediate stress: the loan my mother hasn’t cosigned yet and the Walden Senior Scholarship. Since talking to my mom I’ve been hesitant to move forward with a loan. All that money for the rest of my life? I’d hoped I’d get out of college with the privilege of being debt-free, but it’s looking less and less like that’s an option.
And as for the Walden Senior Scholarship…winning that would mean Mac wouldn’t win it. I know how much it would mean to him. I saw the way his dad was, heard the conversation about the theater classes. The scholarship and maybe even valedictorian would go a long way for him.
And the hardest part is that I want that for him. I both want to win for myself and I want him to feel the pride of winning, to see the look on his dad’s face when he finds out. If he won, I’d want to celebrate with him, even though it would mean I lost something I desperately needed.
Would I still want to be with Mac if he won the scholarship and I didn’t?
Yes.
A resounding yes echoes around my chest. Even though my brain knows we need the money, somehow I also know I’d be okay if I didn’t get it. That I might be stuck with a loan, but if my parents found a way to make it work, so could I. Maybe a few smaller scholarships like the one I just won could offset the cost.
Whatever it is, there’s a strange peace about the whole situation for me. Strange because a few weeks ago I couldn’t bear the thought of losing to Mac. And now I can’t stand the thought of losing him.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
JESSIE
I adjust the strap of my backpack and stare at the front door of Mac’s apartment. He bribed me with a homemade dinner if we worked on data coding for the research project at his apartment instead of the library. I didn’t need to be bribed, but he doesn’t need to know that. I haven’t been to his place yet, and I’m curious about where he lives.
But now I’m nervous. Seeing the inside of someone’s home is intimate. Even having been in his bed at his childhood home feels different than being in his personal living space. The kitchen he cooks in, the couch he lounges on. The implications of being on that couch or being alone with him in his apartment. There’s a wave of butterflies in my stomach.
My phone dings.
Have fun. Make bad choices. ??
Jade.
I send her back a smiling devil emoji and tuck my phone away. When I knock on the door it opens almost immediately. Cinnamon, clove, and that glorious onion-garlic combo hits my nose.
“Whatever you’re cooking smells amazing,” I say.
A bright smile lights up his face. “If you wanted to show up here every day and compliment me as soon as I opened the door I wouldn’t be mad about it.”
I take one step into the apartment and Mac cradles my face in one hand and kisses me like I’m made of glass. He doesn’t linger, though, taking my bag off my shoulder and setting it on the couch.
“Come in, come in. Snoop all you like. Dinner will be done soon.”
Mac disappears into the kitchen, leaving me to take everything in. Besides the smell of whatever he’s cooking, the apartment smells clean and nothing like a stereotypical college student living space. It’s freshly vacuumed and there’s a candle burning on his tidied countertop. It’s a small apartment, without much space between the living room and the kitchen, but it’s cozy. Long curtains cover the windows and tastefully framed inspirational quotes and artwork are all over the walls.
“Did you decorate this?”
“It was mostly my mom, but I contributed some.”
It’s so different from what I expected. I don’t know what I did expect—maybe something more sparse and bachelor pad-like—but this apartment feels like a home. On a college campus, that is something special.
“You okay?” Mac chuckles.
“It’s so…clean.”
