Page 10 of The Casanova Complex

MADS: Where is Merritt? It’s been 84 years since she’s responded

STELL-Y: Probably studying… Or working…Or in class

I smirk, tapping a quick response.

ME: Which is exactly what you two should be doing

ME: Hiiiii, it’s me… jessicaaaaaa

MADS:

ME: Sorry, i was in fact in class. Fighting for my life. At work now, but I’m so tired I might die & no energy drink

STELL-Y: Want me to doordash you one??

ME: You’re the best, and ily but no it’s okay. I only have a few hours left at the book store then I can go home

STELL-Y: Did you have your beloved fossil at least?

MADS: Don’t make fun of our little y2k angel

ME: yes I have my ipod. I don’t leave home without it, duh. The only way I’m making it through the rest of the night

STELL-Y: You’re like the only person I’ve ever met that still uses wire headphones, Merritt

ME: That’s because they’re RELIABLE

MADS: She’s not wrong

ME: Gotta go to work but I’ll FT when I’m home. Love you byeeeee

I tuck my phone away, laughing at my girls, who I would actually probably die without, and grab my iPod off the cluttered desk, popping in the wired earphones. I circle my thumb along the trackpad for far too long before finally finding a good playlist and pressing Shuffle.

When “Breathe” by Anna Nalick starts playing, my chest deflates, and some of the tightness I’ve been carrying all day starts to seep out.

This is exactly what I needed to make it through this shift.

A tiny slice of serendipity that fuels my exhausted soul, giving me just enough energy to finish shelving the books and check out the handful of people who come through the door.

For sleeping approximately six out of the last forty-eightish hours, I’m surprisingly wired sitting behind the desk as I read over my personal essay for the hundredth time.

It has to be the closest thing to perfect that’s ever existed if I’m going to submit it with my application to law school.

Depends on who you ask, but arguably, your personal essay is one of the most important parts of your application and sometimes the deal breaker on your acceptance. Thankfully, I’ve maintained a 4.0 since starting at OU, and I got 165 on my LSATS on the first try because I studied my ass off for literally a year in preparation.

The only thing that would be more devastating about not being accepted to OU Law would be not being accepted because I wrote a lackluster personal statement. Or even worse, because I let my GPA slip in the eleventh hour. I can’t even fathom the concept of not getting in.

I’m not even allowing that thought in my head as a possibility because it’s not.

I’m getting into OU Law. I’ve worked my entire academic career toward this, and not achieving it isn’t an option.

By the time my shift is over and I’m getting ready to start closing down, I’d honestly forgotten all about Creative Writing class and the thesis until I see the email from Professor Hart sitting in my school email inbox.

The sound of my exasperated groan echoes around the empty store.

“Please do not fuck me, Professor Hart,” I mutter to myself as I click open her email. “Respectfully, I am already being fucked by everything else in my life.”

I suck in a breath and hold it while I scan the email that’s mostly just expectations, timeline, and a project synopsis and grading rubric at the beginning, until I get to the end, where the assigned partner and topic are listed.