The Goal (Off-Campus #4)(20)

“She’s scared. She probably didn’t get in.” Ray’s words are both lined with disdain and ringing with glee.

I snatch the letter and rip it open with Ray’s knife. A single piece of paper falls out. It’s got several paragraphs, none of which I fully read as I scan for the important words.

Congratulations on your admission to Harvard Law School! I hope you will join us in Cambridge as part of the class of—

“Well?” Nana prompts.

The biggest smile known to mankind spreads across my face. My hunger, my exhaustion, my irritation with Ray, is all wiped away.

“I…got in.” The words come out on a squeak of breath. I repeat myself, and this time I’m screaming. “I got in! Oh my God! I got in!”

I wave the letter in the air as I dance wildly around the kitchen. I don’t usually allow myself to drop my guard in front of Ray, but the bastard doesn’t even exist to me right now. Excitement pulses in my blood, along with a sense of relief so weighty that I can’t stay upright for much longer. I fall on Nana’s shoulders and give her a huge hug.

“I suppose you’re going to be extra uppity now,” she gripes, and I don’t even care.

“Naah, this doesn’t make her special or anything,” Ray drawls. “She’s got two holes like any other bitch. Three if you count her mouth.”

I wait for Nana to defend me, but apparently jealousy is winning out over pride right now. She laughs at his disgusting comment, and just like that, I’m done celebrating with these people. I cannot wait to get out of this house.

Still, I refuse to let anything affect my happiness right now. I spin on my heel and waltz down the hallway to call my girls.

“What about dinner?” Nana yells after me.

I ignore her and keep walking. In my bedroom, I throw myself on the bed and text my friends.

I got in.

Hope beats Carin by a millisecond.

OMG! Congrats!!!!!!!!

Carin replies, PIC! PIC! PIC!

I snap a picture of the acceptance letter and send it off. While I’m waiting for their responses, I run down the hall, fill my plate with pasta, stuff a roll in my mouth, and run back to my bedroom. Nana and Ray say something, but none of it processes. Only sheer joy fills my ears.

There are a dozen responses when I get back.

Hope: <3

Carin: LOVE! LOVE! LOVE! UR so awesome!

Hope: I’m so proud of u. UR going to make the best lawyer EVER. Please say you’ll represent me if I get sued for malpractice.

Carin: THIS IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING!

Hope: When do we get to take u out? And no, never, not happening R unacceptable responses.

I chew on my roll as I text them back.

Me: A) U both get free legal services 4 life.

B) Let’s celebrate tomorrow. I promise to order enough to make your credit card weep.

Hope: Not possible! I’m making reservations for Santino’s.

Carin: That place needs reservations?!

Hope: I dunno! Figure of speech. But we could go to Malone’s again if u want celebratory sex.

Me: I still have the number from the guy from last Saturday. What about u? Your lady garden get a private tour last night?

The two of them had gone out without me to a party at Beau Maxwell’s house. I wonder if Tucker was there. And if so, I wonder who he took to his truck this time. The thought of him running his big, callused hands over some other girl’s breasts makes me grit my teeth in envy, but I don’t have the right to be jealous. I blocked his number, after all. I told him in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t interested in going out with him.

So why did you unblock him, hmmm?

The taunting voice in my head has me biting my lip. Fine, so I unblocked his number. But that wasn’t because I want to go out with him or anything. I just figured it might be handy to have in case of…an emergency.

God, I’m so pathetic.

My phone dings, pulling me out of my thoughts.

Carin: No. I was an angel.

Hope: Liar! OMG, what a liar. She came downstairs with sex hair bigger than Cher. Text her a picture of ur chest. Right now or I’ll do it.

Carin: Fine. I hate u.

Sometimes I do wish I lived with them. I gobble up more pasta as I wait for the picture from Carin. When the image comes through, I nearly choke on a noodle.

Me: Did u make out with teen wolf last night?

Carin: No. Brad Allen.

I search my memory banks and come up with a six-foot, four-inch guy with a round, sweet face.

Me: Defensive lineman? He looks like a cherub!

Carin: Yup. Turns out he has a sucking fetish. Good thing it’s cold out because tank tops would be out of the question.

Me: Other than him trying to actually suck the blood through ur chesticles, did u enjoy him?

Carin: It wasn’t bad. He knew how to use his equipment.

Me: Ha! My athlete theory is holding strong!

Hope: Between Tucker and Brad Allen, it appears B’s hypothesis is accurate.

Carin: U both know that’s not how the scientific method works, right?

Me: Yup, but we don’t care.

Hope: Does that mean Tucker is getting a repeat?

Me: Doubtful. He’s good, but when do I have the time?

We text for a few more minutes, but my spike of adrenaline is wearing off. I set my partially finished plate on my nightstand and hug the Harvard letter to my chest. It’s all happening. All the good things I’ve worked so hard for are coming to fruition. Nothing can stop me now.