3 Months Later

“You know who I received a call from this morning?” Adrian’s good mood is downright infectious as he sidles up to me in the hallway after second period and intertwines his hand through mine. 

I raise an eyebrow in question. 

He offers me a sly smile. “Harvard’s President.” 

My stomach dips. “Oh?” 

“He was very impressed with your phone interview last week,” he explains. “Thinks you’d be a valuable asset to Harvard’s student body this upcoming fall.” 

I snort. “You mean he thinks you’d be a valuable asset to Harvard’s student body. I’m just the accessory.” 

Adrian shrugs. “You’ll have plenty of time to prove otherwise.” 

All things considered, the phone interview with Harvard’s President last week did go well. Sure, it lasted no more than ten minutes, and he spent at least half that time recounting his long-standing friendship with the Ellis family and the other half trying to decipher my friendship with the Ellis family, but…

He’d been enthusiastic. 

Not necessarily about me, but at least over the notion of stacking up a few points with the Ellis heir. 

“You should be receiving your acceptance any day now,” Adrian says, and my eyes widen. 

“Just like that?” 

His smile turns smug. “Just like that.” 

I blink. “It can’t be that easy.” 

“I promised I’d make it happen, didn’t I?” He pulls our intertwined fingers, presses a soft kiss to the back of my hand, and I melt – just a little. “You’re going to Harvard, sweetheart.”

I stand on my tip-toes and kiss him. “I can’t wait.” 

Promises don’t mean a thing, honey, a voice that sounds strangely close to my mother’s whispers in the back of my head. 

Ever since we left Mobile, I’ve been hearing her more and more – a muttering devil on my shoulder that’s haunting every happy moment with Adrian. 

Shut up, I snark back. Harvard’s a good thing. You’re not going to ruin this. 

As he walks me to class, I wait for the exhilaration, for the rush of knowing I’ve been accepted into America’s oldest, most respected institution, to hit me. 

But it never comes. 

***

Over the next week, college acceptances and rejections flood Lionswood’s senior class. On Monday, Penelope buys enough chocolate cupcakes to feed the entire school, each one emblazoned with: Future Brown University Alumni. 

On Tuesday, Dean Robins calls the fire department after Roddy Locke climbs on top of the West Wing’s clock tower. Roddy’s quick to assure everyone he’s not going to jump – he just wanted to tear his Oxford rejection letter apart and watch the pieces float away from three stories up. 

On Wednesday, Sophie Adams quietly posts her “go-to makeup routine” in a new Dartmouth sweater, and promptly goes as viral for her college acceptance as she does for her three-step brow routine. 

On Thursday, Maddie Mason has a seizure in the middle of history class after realizing she didn’t get into her first choice, her second choice, or her third choice Ivies. 

I’m one of the lucky ones. 

I’m not scrambling for purchase with a second, third, or fourth choice. I’m not glued to my phone between classes, frantically refreshing my Gmail. 

The part of senior year I thought would be the hardest has turned out to be the easiest. 

Harvard’s acceptance email unassumingly slips into my inbox on Tuesday, and comes a full-ride merit-based scholarship. 

Adrian’s ecstatic, of course. He makes plans for us to visit campus in a few weeks and takes calls from a family realtor. He asks if I’d prefer two stories or one, Victorian or modern. 

I do my best to answer every single one of his questions, all while pretending I’m not hitched to a train that’s speeding into the station at warp speed. 

I want a future for Adrian so badly my fingers itch to carve it out myself, but I also want to catch my breath.

On Friday, I head for the girls’ side of the West Wing for the first time in weeks, picturing the dust that’s most definitely taken up residence in my dorm following my absence. 

I didn’t leave that cup of tea on the desk, did I? 

God, I hope not. It’ll be growing its own ecosystem by now.

As I climb the steps, I try to recall – only to pause at the sound of familiar laughter floating from the girls’ common room. 

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding. 

Of course, now of all times…

Dread ties a knot in my stomach, but I’ve come this far, and I’ve dealt with far scarier things this year than…

“Oh, Poppy, is that you?” Curled up in the armchair closest to the fireplace is Sophie Adams, who looks thrilled to see me. 

With a deep breath, I hike the final step and enter the common room, which appears anything but the cozy, welcoming space it’s meant to be right now. “Hey, Sophie.” 

As expected, Ava and Penelope lounge on the loveseat closest to her while a few eager no-name juniors huddle around them. 

Sophie shoots me a downright predatory smile. “I’m so glad I caught you, Poppy. I never see you around anymore.” 

She’s right about that. I’m not sure I’ve said a word to Sophie since the night of the dance, when she cornered me in the bathroom, strangely desperate to know what sort of spell I’d used to enthrall Adrian. 

I can’t say for certain what’s kept her away from me – or Adrian – since then. Maybe it was the embarrassment of debasing herself in front of a penniless scholarship student. Maybe it was watching Adrian commit violence in my name. Maybe it was the realization that, despite being a penniless scholarship student, Adrian’s more serious about me than he’s ever been with anyone else. 

Which is why I’m not going to let her get under my skin now. 

Still, I square my shoulders like I’m bracing for a bullet. “Yeah, it’s been awhile, Sophie.” 

“You’re Poppy,” breathes one of the no-name juniors situated on the other side of the room. She looks like she’s taken Sophie’s three-step brow routine a step too far, and her platinum blonde hair’s nearly the color of mine. “You’re the girl who’s dating Adrian Ellis.” 

I straighten up, unable to help the flash of pride that soars through me because, yes, I am dating Adrian Ellis. 

“That’s a bit of a strong word, don’t you think?” Sophie sneers. “They’ve only known each other a couple of months. I’ve had these extensions in my hair longer than that.” She toys with a strand of her auburn hair, effortlessly styled as usual. 

Her comment elicits a few giggles from around the room, but I can’t bring myself to be truly bothered. I’m almost positive that Sophie would fry and split into a million pieces if she knew half the things I knew about Adrian. 

I plaster on my friendliest smile. “Congratulations on getting into Dartmouth, Sophie.” My gaze flickers to the loveseat. “And Stanford, Ava.” A touch of sincerity enters my face. “And the cupcakes were delicious, Penelope.” 

Granted, I only had about three bites of one, but I got to watch Adrian’s eyes shutter close with momentary, sweetened pleasure as he downed at least two of them. 

Both girls offer me genuine smiles in return. 

If I had to guess, senior year’s approaching end is softening everyone’s hard edges. 

“And where are you going, Poppy?” 

Well, except one. 

I ignore Sophie’s hawk-like stare. “I’m going to Harvard.” 

Surprised murmurs ripple throughout the room because, even here, even amongst two, three and fourth-generation Ivy Leaguers, Harvard still reigns supreme.

“Harvard…” Sophie purses her lips like she’s swallowed something sour. 

“Isn’t that where Adrian’s going too?” No-name junior asks. 

I nod. 

“That’s so cool!” She gushes. “You guys are, like, real high-school sweethearts.” 

I shrug. “I mean, I guess –”

“Well, Adrian’s wanted to go to Harvard for years,” Sophie interjects. “His grandfather and his father are both alumni.” She raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. “I suppose he can’t help who follows him.” 

I can’t help it. 

I bristle like a house cat in the face of an annoyingly yappy poodle. 

“I’m not following him,” I retort, and immediately regret my knee-jerk defensiveness when I see Sophie’s smile widen. “I want to go to Harvard too.” 

More like, I want a future with Adrian. 

It’s just happening at Harvard. 

“Of course.” Sophie leans forward like I’m a fish she’s gearing up to reel in. “I didn’t mean anything by it. In fact…” 

Oh, here we go. 

“I think it’s really admirable what you two are doing,” she continues. “I mean, I could never go to college with my…” Her mouth twists into a momentary grimace. “High-school sweetheart. Not when I know it’s going to end in inevitable heartbreak.” 

My eyes narrow. “Nobody’s going to get their heartbroken.” 

“Well…” Her chuckle’s directed at Ava and Penelope. “Not Adrian, that’s for sure.” 

You know what? 

That’s it. 

I’m ready to go to war when I open my mouth but, surprisingly, Penelope hits the front lines first. “They don’t all end in heartbreak,” she adds. “My older sister married her high-school sweetheart.” 

At Sophie’s withering glare, Penelope tries to retreat into the couch cushions. “Didn’t your sister also have an affair with her landscaper?” 

Penelope nods mutely. 

“Right.” Sophie turns back to me, eyes gleaming with victory. “Case in point.” 

I take a deep breath, remind myself again that Sophie knows absolutely nothing of substance about Adrian, and then say, “Thanks for the input. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” 

Walk away, Poppy. 

“Oh, I’m sure,” she purrs. “Relationships are made to be tested, right?” 

Just walk away. 

“And college is all about meeting new, interesting people…” she trails off. “Especially Harvard. They only take the best. I’m sure you’ll find your people just as Adrian will find people closer to his own pedigree.”