I got in. A program with a two-percent acceptance rate fucking chose me. A little late, since their acceptance deadline was weeks ago, but it doesn't matter.
I got in, and that last-ditch letter of mineworked.
And their campus is forty minutes away from where Nick’s team is.
My hands shake. The first instinct I have is to call my boyfriend and give him the news. Hovering my finger over his icon in my contacts list, I take a breath to ground myself, before remembering he’s in Arizona. There’s a time difference. He’s intraining.
A quick scroll through our text thread brings me to his schedule, and sure enough, he’s occupied with an exhibition game right now.
It isn’t like I have an imminent deadline to accept the offer, and at this point, my only real option is to accept it given that it’sboth what I want and my only alternative is slaving away without pay for six months.
But my annoying thoughts are getting me to weigh all sides. Again.
Accepting my place in grad school would mean not moving home, at least for the next two years. I’ve been glum and homesick for what feels like the entirety of my college experience, so why does the thought of staying fill me with optimism?
Because of Nick.
Sighing, I shake my head. While I love the guy?—
Woah,fuck.
I love Nick.
It isn’t like I could choosenotto.
Then, the hope flowing through me crawls to a stop. This situation right here is as close to a mirror image of what I went through four years ago.
Two options: do what I always planned to do, or pivot to stay together with a guy.
Go to college in the US like I’d wanted to since I was five, or accept my offer in London with Greg?
Go home like what I’ve said I’d do for the last four years, or accept my offer at Washtenaw to be a lot more stable in my relationship with Nick?
Did I love Greg? Probably, as much as a seventeen-year-old could.
Shaking my head, I shove the thought out of my brain. The circumstances are so different now—I’m already somewhat established in this country, there’s nothing waiting for me back home, other than moping around the house, and there’s so much possibility here.
But the annoying voice in the back of my head insists on performing a balanced analysis.
Sheesh, I need someone to talk me through this, or talk some sense into me and tell me that staying here is objectively a good decision.
I throw my laptop to the side and get my phone, clicking it open and navigating to the group chat I have with my parents. After a short breath to steady myself, I click on the icon next to the texting box to start a video call, and Dad picks up immediately.
“I got into Washtenaw University,” I say, not waiting for greetings or anything. The two of them are sitting on the couch, half of their faces visible in the frame—it’s early Saturday morning where they are, and I’m guessing they have a rare weekend off.
“That’s great! Congratulations!” Mom replies with a smile.
Dad nods in approval. “You’re accepting, right?”
Then I pause. “I think it’s the right decision.” My voice is firm amidst the annoying doubt in my mind. “But I wanted to talk through it first.”
“What is there to talk through?” Dad asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like you applied for fun.”
“Right, but you both know I’ve been wanting to come home for, like, all of undergrad,” I reply. “You know how I had plans to go study in London with Greg?”
Mom takes the phone and tilts her head. “Yes. Your not-so-secret boyfriend?”
My cheeks heat as I nod.Did Momalsoknow about Greg?
