Jolie Nana - [Pierre Gasly]

Doce

     Late August. The new academic year was about to start. There was a week left for Farah to mentally prepare for it. The university was opened again after COVID-19, and she could finally have on site classes and lectures again. There was not a part of herself that looked forward to it. Ever since she returned from the holiday in Ibiza, it felt like a hole was left in her heart. Farah had to admit she hasn't been very active after coming back either. It had taken her a couple of days to unpack, a couple of days to unwind and recover from the jet lag. She had been going to the gym as usual, but never left with a satisfied feeling. Perhaps it were the nerves for the last year of her bachelor study. Farah wanted to do well and get good grades, but when she looked at the syllabus of one of her courses for the first block and all the readings she had to do about the history of the style of some sort of designer, she had sighed deeply and buried her face in her hands. The group chat of her holiday friends had been quiet, and she could understand.

From what she saw on Instagram, all the drivers were very busy. Pierre hadn't posted anything after Ibiza, till he went to Belgium for the second half of the Formula 1 season. Farah had attempted to keep up with the achievements of her new friends. The race in Belgium unfortunately wasn't very exciting, and she had nearly fallen asleep while waiting the many hours on the couch for the race to restart. She couldn't imagine how disappointed the visitors must have been. Sean, Stoffel and Tom were one team at the 24 hours of Le Mans, Farah had a livestream playing every now and then, but the time difference and the length of the race, and considering the lack of knowledge of it all, she didn't watch for a long time. She had texted back and forth with Pierre before the season started, but now he was racing again, her last text was left on read after she wished him good luck. Farah understood, but that didn't take away the little bit of sadness she felt. Had she really hoped that they would have weekly, or even daily, contact? Maybe.

She spoke to Rebecca nearly daily, who recently moved to Paris, where she's going to study for half a year. Farah started to regret her decision to stay in New York more and more. As if on cue, her phone dinged and notified her that she received an email. Farah leaned back in the couch with her phone, and she opened the mail from the bureau of student affairs of her study. The email informed her that the late exchange applications deadline would be tonight. The late exchange applications could be handed in for any student who couldn't decide where to go or was simply lazy with the first term of applications. Farah gnawed on her lower lip. Technically, she could still apply for an exchange and then see where she would end up. She knew the university had a great amount of exchange partners, among them really good universities. But what if she ended up somewhere she didn't want to go at all? Farah reached for her laptop and started up the device, logging into the webpage of her university.

She scanned the article about the late exchange applications, and she clicked on the application file. She could still select the continent. Farah ignored her stress level heightening, her heart beating in her throat, and she filled in the file. She read through it again, knowing that if she handed it in, she had about a week to pack and find a place to live wherever she was going. But hey, what is life without a little adventure? Farah handed it in, receiving a link of the program of her university where she could hand in a copy of her passport, her CV and a motivation letter. Farah sat up a little more straight to get that sorted out. She was sure that getting out of New York would be a good move for her. She had not minded barely having friendly contact with anyone besides Rebecca before the holidays, but now she had made some great friends in Ibiza, she didn't want to be isolated on another continent anymore. It was time to move and to do what she wanted. Farah had to admit she had to think this through before, but that was long forgotten when she closed her laptop with a new-found rush of adrenaline.

Farah felt tense ever since she filled in the late application for exchange form. Within any hour, she could receive a notification whether she was selected or not. She had her laptop charging on her desk while she walked around her apartment in some joggers and a top, fluffy slippers on her feet and munching on a protein bar because she couldn't get anything else in for breakfast at the moment. She had called Rebecca last night to inform her about her last-minute decision, which caused her friend to screech through the phone how proud she was of Farah, and Rebecca already started to imagine that Farah was going to be selected for Paris as well, even though the applications for the French universities were already full. Farah started her cleaning routine to distract herself. She put her headphones on to get some music playing, hoping it would help to get rid of her sweaty palms. She vacuumed her apartment, mopped the floor for once and cleaned the bathroom. The windows were opened to let in some fresh air, and she groaned when she still hadn't received an email.