the extra weekend, message Olly. She can drop you at my parents' place," Krista reminded me.

On Monday, I would fly out to New York City, and detour quickly to New Jersey, for a slew of medical school interviews. Since I'd interviewed for Tufts and Boston University—the latter of which accepted me—last October, results from the rest of my shortlist had trickled in. Harvard and John Hopkins rejected me, but I was grateful for the handful of schools that offered me an interview.

I ended up with four additional interview opportunities for NY Medical College, Langone Health, Columbia and Rutgers. I arranged for the last four interviews to be conducted over a week's duration, but Columbia—my favourite, secretly—had tentatively placed me in the last slot of the last day of the week. If Columbia couldn't see me before the following weekend, Krista made me a heartwarming offer.

"You can take my old room."

Attending multiple interviews on one flexi-travel plane ticket would save me so much money. But the hostel in which I would spend the week was still steep for a college student. Should I extend my visit to New York, Krista's family had agreed to take me in for the additional three nights.

I folded Krista into a grateful hug. "I love, love you. But I hope I won't need to take you up on that offer." A week of catching up on lectures online would be bad enough.

"Don't worry about it. It's the least I can do for you, love." Krista picked up two pants from my freshly laundered basket of clothes and held them up, eyebrows cocked inquisitively.

"The black jeans," I answered.

She rolled up that pair and tossed it into the open suitcase on the floor.

Krista helping me pack for the NYC trip was her way of consoling me. Ever since freshman year, we had stuck together like polymerised molecules, filling our course requisites and commiserating together. But last semester, she said nah.

Literally.

Krista just woke up one day and decided she didn't want to be a doctor after all. I loved how she found her true calling in life, but when I was going through the most nerve-wracking phase of my Pre-Med degree to date, not having my best friend in the same boat was unfamiliar and discouraging.

"You knew I was going to," Krista chastised gently.

"Of course I did. You won't shut up about finally getting the chance to surpass me in maths."

She was picking up a series of Maths courses this semester that I'd never done. Going into a Biotech graduate program meant she had to get her physics—and therefore maths—skills up to date.

"When I eventually beat you, it will only be by a small margin," she said proudly. "Then we can talk directional derivatives and partial fractions with each other—"

"Vomit. No." I laughed as her excitement fell into a pout. She'd only been saying those things to rile me up, anyway. No-one loved math that much. "I'm good at math, but I don't like it."

"Whereas I kind of like math and absolutely suck at it. We should switch brains."

I threw a handful of bras into the compartment under the lid of my suitcase. "I wish! If I had your brain, I wouldn't have to worry about charming the pants off the interviewers."

"Just be yourself."

I arched an unimpressed eyebrow. "That's all you got?"

"Yup. Cliche, I know," Krista shrugged. "But turns out that's all I had to do to get where I am now."

"Right, well 'being myself' means offending the crusty old white guy that's interviewing me—and I'm pretty sure it will be a crusty old white guy interviewing me," I remarked, "and saying American medicine has screwed its patients over for too long that I'm stepping in now to fix the fucking system. But I don't see that going down well."

"I think they'll appreciate the passion you have," she offered sincerely. "Just remove the swear words, swap in lengthy adjectives for everything and tone your voice down a couple of decibels. They'll think you're spirited, rather than insane."

A bark of laughter escaped me. "I'll remember that."

Krista remained by my side the whole afternoon, running through the checklist note on her phone, recommending the best attractions in NYC and giving me more interview pointers.

I couldn't have appreciated her more.

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My vision swam from reading an endocrinology study when a knock came at my door.

I paused; Krista and Riley would just barge right in, knowing that I kept my door unlocked when I was in the room.

Then Jamie's voice came, low and deep. "You left your hair clip in my room."

Fuck. So I had, almost a week ago. But I hadn't the nerve to go back and get it. Tamping down the flurry in my stomach, I rose from my desk and opened the door.

Jamie indeed held my claw clip in his hand, which I took with a half-smile. "Thanks."

Our relationship had become slightly more comfortable now that the boundaries were clear again. But maybe that was because we hadn't been alone since the night he'd buried that mouth between my legs.

Jamie cleared his throat. I snatched my gaze from his lips to his eyes, which didn't seem to have noticed my staring. "You flying out tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yep," I answered, one hand loosely on the door handle.

"Are you packed? Do you have a ride organised?"

"No, I thought I'd just wing it. I've also not set a morning alarm, just to see if fate really wants this to pan out," I quipped. "If it's meant to be, it'll be."

Jamie's stricken expression had melted halfway through my sarcastic spiel when he caught onto the joke. Now he looked positively vexed. "Very funny. I was just making sure."

I chuckled, nudging the door open wider so he could see into my bedroom. "Look. Suitcase packed. Krista's driving me to the airport. And I've even got a contingency plan if I need accommodation over the weekend. I know I'm a hot mess sometimes, emphasis on the hot—"

Jamie scoffed. "Sure—"

"—but I can get my shit together when I need to."

"I know that," he said, eyes softening. "I never meant to imply otherwise. I'm sorry if I did."

Admittedly, sometimes I thought Jamie was judging me and my lifestyle, but I reminded myself that he simply wanted what was best for me. I had judged him, too, among worse things. "And I'm sorry for being so indecisive. I think the sooner things get back to normal, the better off we'll be."

"Mm," Jamie exhaled and nodded. He arched an eyebrow. "To moving forward, right?"

Cool relief swept down my spine. If our friendship made it out of this shit storm intact, I would consider it among my greatest achievements. I echoed, "To moving forward."

Jamie's eyes creased when he smiled, endlessly green like rolling meadows. I could look on and on and on at those. Moments on, I realised we had just been staring without conversing. I straightened and brought the door closer. He seemed to conclude the same thing at the same time, clearing his throat and stepping away. The scent of clementines retreated with him, leaving me chilled.

"Good luck with your interviews," Jamie farewelled. "I know you'll kill it."

"Thanks." I gave him a wry grin. "Try not to miss me when I'm gone."

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"You know what I think?"

I sigh. "No, but I don't particularly care."

"I think you love me."

I startled awake in the wide ceramic bathtub.

I'd opted for a relaxing soak after my first hectic day in New York. Maybe it was the dynamic but draining interview with Langone or the dawn flight I'd taken into the city. Maybe it was the heat of the bathroom or even the pasta I'd stuffed myself with for dinner.

But I'd drifted off and dreamt of Jamie.

Though, something about the clarity of the voices, the scratchy sheets I could feel surrounding my consciousness, felt more real than fantasy. Except, even as I scrambled to grasp the edges of the scene and burn it into my mind, it faded. Back into that void, the chasm that held all the boozy midnights and drowsy mornings with him I'd forgotten.

I stayed in the bath for another half an hour. Taking baths was a rare luxury, considering the clean but cramped bathroom stalls in Halston. And, as baths and showers tend to encourage, I got to thinking.

Through my exes, I'd learnt so much about relationships. I learnt that someone would always need more quality time than the other. I learnt that disapproving parents were an inescapable omen. I learnt that cheating was a red flag, not always for future infidelity, but a red flag for something. I learnt both how to regrow trust and to squash naivete when it was deserved.

I learnt that I couldn't live with men who claimed they couldn't live without me. I learnt that bad sex could be improved with practise, but selfish sex never could. I learnt that the way I arrived into a relationship should be more than enough, and any future change should be voluntary.

And I learnt that the right match was incredibly elusive.

There was a thin margin of success between two extremes; it was like trying to photograph a pendulum at its lowest point, the sweet spot, but also the place where it moved the fastest. The probability of Jamie being the right match?

Low as absolute zero.

And not because he didn't meet my standards. But because I was difficult to date. I was judgmental and abrasive. I could be really selfish. Indecisive. Sloppy. I'd frighten his wholesome, small-town parents if I ever met them. Or scandalise them with my cleavage. I'd clam up and not tell him the ways I was hurting because I hated admitting weakness.

And, boy, I had my fair share of weakness.

I was tired of it. Tired of loving someone more than they loved me. Tired of being loved more than I loved them. Khan, Max, Carey, Johannes, Sung-seo, Bryson, Eric—all different, all gone. Things actually ended on amicable terms—after a two-week mourning period during which all insults were fair game—with Khan, Max, Carey and Sung-seo. And every so often, Carey and Sung-seo talked to me about maths and anime, respectively.

So I wasn't bad at love. I was just...

Not good enough.

That was an unshakeable belief that lectures and WISA executive meetings and the undergraduate tutoring centre and yoga classes and Halston's nightclubs couldn't change. That was why I didn't date.

I'd just get it wrong again.

I dove into the rest of the week with fire and steam. I was half running towards my future and half running from my insecurities. It needed to be this way. My mind needed to be occupied, always, by schoolwork or my job or alcohol or I would just spiral into the deepest, darkest pits of myself.

I didn't take another bath while I stayed in New York.

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The Mings' generosity turned out to be unnecessary.

Columbia had space for me on Friday after all. I thought Columbia and Langone were the most successful interviews, but none of the four went terribly. I booked a ticket back to Halston on my flexi-travel plan and bussed to campus. Suitcase in hand, I stepped out of the elevator before everyone had even gone to bed.

I heard raucous laughter and music immediately. It was Friday night after all, so presumably, the floor was going to town. Entering the common room confirmed my suspicions. Beer bottles and red solo cups dotted the flat surfaces. It was a solid mix of people, with as many unfamiliar faces as familiar. My gaze located Riley and the Jays sitting around the couches, drinks in their hands and flushes on their cheeks.

Drunk Jenga sat on the coffee table, the gaps in the tower revealing how long the current game had been in action.

"Lap dance for the person to your right," a familiar, feminine voice read aloud. I noticed Farrah, her thick hair tied into two ponytails that displayed her shaved undercut.

And I noticed the person on her right. Jamie.

Such was the energy in the common room that the sound of the opening door didn't make a dent in the volume, so I paused unrecognised by the threshold while she levelled a stubborn smirk at Jamie. "You game, Tanner?"

Jamie slumped lower in his seat and spread his legs wider. "If you are."

I watched, knuckles white on the handle of my suitcase, as Farrah sank into the beat of the house music. Her ponytails made perfect arcs in the air when she swung her head, settling her legs on either side of Jamie's hips. Every eye in the room—male or female—was glued to her behind, the way she gyrated confidently on the man below her.

I couldn't see Jamie's expression because he faced away from me, but he must have enjoyed it. How could he not? Even I would have if it was someone as gorgeous as Farrah doing it to me. Jamie facing away meant that Farrah faced me. After she tossed her head back and dismounted Jamie, her gaze fell on me.

"Viv!" she cheered, extending a reaching arm to me. "You're back!"

Riley and the Jays whipped around to see me, exclaiming joyously. Riley bounded from her seat to wrap me in a hug.

"I'm back," I echoed, slinging an arm around Riley. She was so drunk. And the twins were, too. Jamie stared unabashedly, smiling awkwardly. It was better than the weeks of radio silence and cold shoulders, but somehow this curated friendliness was nearly as uncomfortable.

I forced a friendly grin in return.

Riley brought her lips to my ear. "You coming out tonight? You could catch up to u—" She was interrupted by a hiccup. "—us in ten minutes, I bet. Five minutes if you have soju. One minute if you chug it."

I focused on Riley, her earnest, caramel eyes and full, sweaty cheeks. "No, I'm tired from my flight."

She laughed, repeating the mantra I'd taught her. "Drink it off."

The party girl in me stirred, but a cursory glance at Farrah and Jamie high-fiving and sitting side by side made her settle back down. "Maybe another time," I feigned a yawn. "Have fun, though."

Riley hugged me again. Jake bade me a dramatic, drunk goodbye, waving earnestly. "Vivian, farewell! You will be missed."

And Jamie simply leaned to the woman next to him and whispered something into her ear. A brilliant smile broke out on Farrah's face before she faced me, eyes knowing and alight. She and Jamie clearly got on well. The same probably went for Riley and Jake.

That was fine. Growing and being peaceful and meeting new people. That was what I wanted for all my friends. What I'd stressed to Jamie should be our priority.

I nodded at everyone in the room. "Bye, guys. Make me proud tonight."

To moving forward, I told myself.

The affectionate calls of my floormates chased me out of the common room and into my empty bedroom.

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Remember to vote if you enjoyed this chapter!

I am on study break now, which means I will be revising pretty intensely for my upcoming exams. Hopefully I can stick to the twice-weekly updating schedule, but bear with me for the next three weeks until my exams are over. June is going to be hectic!

Aimee x