Never Summer Again

Chapter Forty - One - The Death of a Dream

Score: In the End - Linkin Park

Lydia

I'm sitting on the bed, cross-legged, with my iPad on my lap, and a notepad and a pen next to me. It is currently ten in the morning, which means eight o'clock British Summer Time. Just about time for the universities' decisions to go live.

Mark's sitting on the bed next to me, with his back against the headboard. The curtains are closed over the large windows, overlooking the Aristotelous Square, blocking the sunlight completely.

I don't need any distractions right now.

A tray of food is laid on the bed beside me. Under normal circumstances, I would be way more interested in the croissants, pancakes, and piles of fruit. However, now, even the sight of the food there is making my stomach turn. The only thing I've been able to stomach is black coffee. Loads of it.

Not exactly helping with my anxiety, though.

I have brought with me everything that I thought I might need for results day. I have a list of university contacts I might need, my GCSE transcript is pulled up in a separate tab on my iPad. I have even brought an extra charger, and a mini power bank, for the unlikely, but possible event of a power outage.

My hands are shaking so badly, as I keep hitting Refresh on the website. And, of course, it freezes every five seconds, because tens of thousands of students are currently trying to access it.

This is fucking killing me!

I push my Ipad off my lap and let it fall onto the bed in frustration, and cross my arms over my chest.

"It's OK, babe!" Mark says. He reaches with his hand and starts drawing circles on the skin just above my elbow with his fingers. "Everything's going to be fine, you'll see."

"I already told you, there's no way in hell I'm getting a place in Psychology."

"Bollocks. I know you, Lydia, I have faith in you."

"At least one of us does," I say, throwing my hands in the air in exasperation.

On top of my already frail nerves, we have less than two hours, before we need to start getting ready for the wedding.

I should've known better than to travel to Greece for a fucking wedding, which also happens to be on the same day as results day. I could have stayed back with Alex, or Gloria. I won't even be able to get my actual results until next Monday when we go back home. I'll just see the feedback from Edin today.

The stupid things we do for love...

Also, who the fuck gets married on a fucking Thursday?

Well, I guess, as most of Laura and Peter's guests had to travel here, specifically for the occasion, they needed to take time off, anyway.

Plus, it must be quite convenient. Avoiding crowds at the florists' or whatever the fuck people are doing on their wedding day.

I sigh and grab my Ipad again, just as my phone chimes.

I jump in my place, nearly knocking over my cup of coffee, and lunge across the bed and across Mark, fumbling for my phone, which is currently plucked into a charger on his bedside table. The socket above my bedside table is occupied by another charger, charging the power bank, while the power's still on. Not that it ever went out, but you can't be too prepared.

I grab my phone. Excitement washes over me, as I see Alex, who's trying to FaceTime me.

"Hello?" I accept her FaceTime when I finally manage to scoot back into my place.