I’m told by my advisor not to worry. How is that even possible? Worrying is something I get straight A’s in.

My phone screen lights up with a text message. I eagerly look down to see if it’s from Amanda, but I’m not disappointed that Harbor sent it. Do you want me to come over later? Or would you rather get together tomorrow?

Sitting here realizing I’ve been stood up by my best friend, I text him: What if we stay at your place tonight?

He replies: What time should I pick you up?

Anyone trying to pull a fast one over on their girlfriend wouldn’t invite them to the scene of the crime. Feeling vindicated, I type: How’s ten o’clock?

Harbor: See you then.

The timer on the oven goes off and I return to the kitchen. As I’m pulling the pizza out of the oven, I decide I just need to go on with my night. Amanda clearly got a better offer. I settled back in on the couch and finish one piece just as I finish one of the applications.

My finger hovers over the “submit” button. It’s normal to be nervous, but this feels like my entire future hangs in the balance. Technically, it does. I’ve worked hard for the past three-plus years, sacrificed having a life for having one in the future. There is no backup plan for if I don’t get in or get in and don’t get the scholarships to cover it.

I hit the button with my shaky finger and then flop back on the couch. There are no takebacks now. It’s out there.

Six more to go.

I get through two more applications and three large slices of pizza when I hear the key sliding into the lock. The front door opens. Laughter enters before Amanda and Dane walk in together, and if I’m not mistaken, she wobbles on her ankles.

Not able to get her key free from the lock, she looks up and sees me. “Damn key always getting stuck. Does this happen to you?”

“Sometimes,” I reply, much quieter than her volume.

“I’ll get it out,” Dane says, bumping her out of the way and bending down eye level with the lock as if that will somehow help. He glances at me. “Hi, Larky.”

“Hi.” I close my laptop and stand, collecting my belongings.

When I move into the kitchen to wash my plate, Amanda says, “You already ate? We just got here.”

Since there’s no bottle in sight, I’m thinking she and Dane shared the bottle of wine. And by the looks of them, they drank more than a bottle of wine tonight. Did she forget about me?

“It’s almost ten. I’m cleaning up.” I’m too pissed to play nice like nothing happened. I scrub the plate and rinse it, all while they stumble around eating the rest of the pizza.

With a mouthful, Dane falls against the counter beside me, and asks, “Why didn’t you come out tonight?”