"You'll be fine," Blairs says. She places her hand over the top of my shaking hands. I give her a warm smile.

I didn't think I would be this nervous; I was fine at first, but as soon as we walked into the admissions building and I saw all the students, I started to get nervous and overwhelmed. That sick feeling is back now, which is perfect timing, the whole car ride, I was fine, but now it feels like I have to puke, and I'm so freaking hot. My blood feels like it is literally boiling. I tug at my shirt, rolling the sleeves up. I wipe the sweat off of my head.

My edges were perfectly laid, and now they're curled up; it is a good thing my hair isn't straight anymore. That would've looked terrible. My nice bun has now turned into a messy one. Not the look I was going for, but it'll have to do.

I open up my folder and read over my work. I hope he likes it. Maybe I should've written newer poems. These are about a year old, some I wrote when I was in the facility. Perhaps I should just cancel and come back. Ugh, no, I can't come back. I'm lucky I even got an interview at all.

"You should try not to look so nervous." Ryder leans over and whispers in my ear. My body shivers. "I can hear your heart beating out of your chest," he adds.

I turn my head to look at him.

Ryder POV

Her eyes are so fucking brown. I love it when she looks at me, annoyed. It does something to me. Most of the time, I fucking mess with her so that she can look up at me and give me this fucking look. This is the look I see every time I close my fucking eyes, every time I fuck someone else, all I see is her. Why?

"I'm not nervous." She lies and looks away from me.

"Sure, you're not," I whisper. I see her body shiver at my words, and her breathing is faster, her chest moves up and down. I think she likes it when I do this to her. "You'll do fine," I tell her honestly. There are many things about her that I don't like, but I like her writing, even though I've only heard one thing she wrote. And she wasn't sharing it with me; she was sharing with the class. Everyone else knows she's a good writer, just too damn cocky to admit it.

"You really think so?" she asks.

"Yes,"

"Ms.King. He's ready for you." The receptionist says.

She takes a deep breath and gets up out of the chair.

"Good Luck." Her annoying ass friend says. How the fuck does she know her anyway? Jayda gives her a friendly smile.

She looks at me and rolls her eyes. Which is enough to make my pants tighten.

She walks down the hall and turns the corner. "So..." her blonde friend turns around to me. What the fuck is her name again? Her eyes are so blue, it's weird. I don't say anything; I just stare at her. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she asks forcefully.

"She asked me to come," I tell her.

"Okay, but you didn't have to come." She narrows her eyes at me.

"I did. She lied to her parents about--

"I know, I know." She cuts me off, holding up her hand. " I mean, you didn't have to come here. You could have just left with us and went somewhere else." I know what the fuck I could've done, but I didn't want to do that. "I know people like you, guys like you, and there's only one thing you guys want."

"I'm not like that," I tell her. I'm not, at least I'm not like that with Jayda.

"So you don't want to fuck her?" she bluntly asks. I hear a foreign accent in her voice that I didn't hear before. Who the hell is this girl?

"No, I have a girlfriend." I lie. Calling Ashley, my girlfriend, makes my insides turn.

"Right, the girlfriend who you cheated on last night with a bitch from Broadway. And the girlfriend you've told Jayda several times is not your actual girlfriend," she says sarcastically. "That girlfriend?"

What the fuck? I don't even know this bitch, and she's sitting here questioning me. I've tried to be nice, but now she's just fucking irritating the shit out of me. "Fuck you. You don't know shit about me." I growl. This look comes on her face. She looks somewhat excited, intrigued. She pushed me to my limit, and now I'm right where she wants me to be.

"But I know shitty guys like you," she spits back. "And what the fuck is this whole, 'I want to do better for you' crap. Is that shit real? Or are you just trying to get in her pan-"

"No!" I blurt out, cutting her off—my voice echoes through the lobby. "It isn't like that with her"

"So then explain to me what it's like?" she waits for me to explain.

I turn away from her and look straight ahead. "I don't have to explain shit."

...

Jayda's POV

I'm sitting across the desk from Mr. Shepard. The creative writing dean of admissions. He has been reading over the work in my folder for about fifteen minutes now. His facial expression has not changed; he just has a dull, neutral expression on his face. I can't tell if he likes it or not.

Maybe my work is so bad that he doesn't even have an expression to make. I look over at the black clock on the wall. I can hear the second-hand ticking away. I can hear the stern dark skin man sitting across from me, breathing in and out. He flips another page and continues reading. I wish he would hurry up.

Then again, I don't want him to. I'm scared to hear what he thinks. I look behind him onto the wall. He has so many degrees. Not one of his degrees says anything about creative writing. Will he even appreciate my work? He knows nothing about writing, so how could he even give me feedback—my phone buzzes in my hand.

*Could you hurry the fuck up... your friend is irritating me. -Ryder

*He's interviewing me; I can't control how fast he goes

*Well, can you text her and tell her to stop talking to me -Ryder

*no, just be patient. I won't be long

"Somewhere you need to be?" The man says.

I look up from my phone. "Uh, no." I click it off. My hands start to shake again; I put them in my lap, trying to hide my shakiness. I take small breaths, trying to calm myself down.

Mr. Shepard sits the folder down and closes it. "So you want to come to NYU for creative writing?" he asks.

"Yeah... I mean, Yes." I correct myself.

"Well, your writing is good," he says. A huge weight being lifted off my shoulders. "But I will be frank with you, Ms.King." He takes his glasses off.

Oh no, I spoke too soon, my hands shake even more in my lap, and my eyes feel so fluttery. I shouldn't have taken the medication today; it's doing more worse than good. My mind is all over the place.

"I don't think you will get in."

I swear I can feel the little bit of life I had in me being sucked out. "Why?" I manage to say breathlessly.

"Well, your writing is a little... dark." he says, "I have never seen such dark writing come through here. Well, I have, but most of the time, those ones get rejected because those writers can only write dark literature. Our program likes to see people who can write from all perspectives of life, who can write different genres."

How can I write different genres when I don't relate to those genres?

"This is just my opinion. Now I'm not the one who decides whether to let you into the program or not. The board and I will make that decision. But, I do know the type of things they choose and this." He places his finger on the folder. "They won't choose this."

Don't cry, don't cry. I bawl, my fist tight in my lap. They won't stop shaking.

"I hope this is not upsetting you. NYU offers hundreds of other programs that I'm sure would fit you."

I don't want to do anything else. Of course, I didn't even think of anything else I might have been interested in. Three weeks ago, I wasn't even planning or thinking of the possibility of me going to college. I'm so stupid I planned a whole life out here; I really thought something good would actually happen to me; how could I have been so stupid.

"I really wanted to come here for Creative Writing. I hadn't even looked at your other programs." I simply tell him.

He turns around and grabs something from behind him. He turns back around to me and hands me a pamphlet. "Well, go home and look this over; this has all of the programs we offer here at NYU. I'm sure you will find something that fits for you."

I fake him my best smile and take it out of his hand. "Thank you."

"Ms. Rodriguez spoke very highly of you, Jayda; she says that you are undoubtedly the most honorable, wisest student your school has. She said that you were a role model and that you just didn't know it yet," he says. "That's the type of person we want here at NYU. Please look that over and find something that will fit you. I feel like you would be a great asset to the school, even if it isn't in the writing department." he says. I give him another fake smile and stand up from the chair. I lose my balance a little and stumble. "Are you alright?" he asks.

I rub my hand across my head. "Uh.. yeah." I walk over to the door and take a deep breath. I rest my hand on the knob and turn back around. "Can I still apply? Even though you don't think I will get in."

"Of course, you can still apply. I just don't want you to waste your time,"

I turn back around and open the door.

...

My eyes burn. I want to cry so bad. I can't; I can't even process this or anything. I heard everything he said, and it crushed me. I'm not a good writer. I always knew that.

Why did I think I was going to get into the best writing program in the country. God, I'm stupid. I need to go; I'm ready to go back home. I just can't... I can't... Ugh, why is it so fucking hot?

"How did it go?" Blair says excitedly when she sees me. She gets up from the chair and meets me halfway, with Ryder behind her.

"I don't really wanna talk about it," I tell her.

"Oh... Okay," By the tone in her voice, she knows exactly how it went.

"What's wrong with you?" Ryder asks. I look up at him, I hear him but... I can't think of what to say.

"Jayda!" Blair snaps.

I turn back, facing her. "I'm just hot," I say so low it's like a whisper.

"Come on, let's go outside." She wraps her arms through mines, and we all walk outside. Ryder opens the door. The sun is so bright; it burns my eyes even more. There are so many people. Was it this many people when we got here? Why the hell is it so loud?

I can hear everything: the cars, the bikes, the bike bells, the car horns, barking dogs. I need everything to be quiet. I look up at the sky. I look at all the tall buildings surrounding us... it looks like they're falling down on us. Are they falling on us? Why aren't people running?

"Jayda!" Ryder yells, panicked. I am snapped back. Both of his hands are tightly on both of my arms.

"Jayda, are you okay?!" Blair says. But her voice is distorted, I heard her, but I can't speak, why can't I speak, I can't breathe, and my eyes are going everywhere.

"I can't... I... I" My body starts to shake, and it feels like I am being pulled toward the ground.

Everything goes dark.