It was hard to gauge what my chances were, really, when the entire process was so complicated. I met the minimum GPA requirement, but that was one of a zillion factors. The application package included a lengthy form, personal essay, academic and personal references, resume, biography, and full transcript submission.

And that was only the initial round, where they narrowed it down to five finalists. If I made it to the next round, I’d be interviewed by a panel of journalism faculty members, several of whom had received prestigious awards at various points in their careers.

Intimidating would be putting that mildly.

To be fair, the amount of work was warranted given the scholarship amount. It was hefty, the kind of scholarship that would keep me from having to worry about money next year at all—I might even have some breathing room financially, as hard as that was to imagine. And it would definitely help ease my student loan burden once I graduated.

I desperately wanted the scholarship. Desperately needed it. Hoped I would be the lucky one of countless applicants who landed it. But I knew it was a long shot, so I was trying to temper my expectations.

As it drew nearer to dinnertime, the other students began to file out of the office. Eventually, the three of us were the only ones left. Noelle was working on an English paper, Zara was doing research for a psychology project, and I was trying to focus on my Video and Audio Production textbook. But my mind kept circling back to the weekend—and not because of Luke.

“So?” Zara checked to make sure the coast was clear, then leaned over the table. She waggled her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “How was he?”

“Who?” I played dumb, fighting the telltale rush of warmth crawling up my neck.

“The super hot guy you went home with, silly. Chase?”

“I wouldn’t know. We didn’t sleep together,” I said. “Thank god.”

“Why not?” She gestured dramatically. “He was the perfect rebound. Tall, dark, and horny.”

“I was too drunk, for one. I threw up on the way home. Several times, according to him. I can’t say, as I don’t recall much from that window of time.” Specifically, I had no idea what I’d said, and I had a strong hunch I’d aired some dirty laundry. The only question was what.

Zara cringed and sucked in a breath. “Oh no.”

“Sorry, B.” Noelle winced.

“The last two drinks were my idea, so I have no one to blame but myself.”

“Do you think you’ll see him again?” Zara asked.