If Only (GxG)

Chapter 40 Graduation

『 °*• ❀ •*°』
Alison's POV

The two weeks of exams passed in a blur of ink, nerves, and coffee that never seemed strong enough.

I barely left the flat. My world shrank to the size of my desk, a battlefield strewn with flashcards, crumpled post-it notes, half-drunk mugs of tea, and a rotating cast of highlighters that kept giving up on me halfway through a sentence. My textbooks were worn soft at the corners, dog-eared and smudged, living extensions of my thoughts.

Wake. Revise. Test. Repeat.

It was the kind of obsessive rhythm I slipped into easily. I'd always been a high achiever—fastidious, driven, addicted to the quiet thrill of progress. But there was a different weight to it now. I wasn't just aiming high because I could. I was aiming high because I had to. Because I'd lost time. Because when my dad died and I was held back a year, something inside me fractured. My academic confidence took the hit—hard. And even though I'd found my footing again, I still felt like I was always playing catch-up. Always trying to prove that I was good enough. Smart enough. That I deserved to be back on track.

Blake understood. Of course she did. She always did.

We'd talked about it beforehand. Made a plan. I would stay home—no distractions, no travel, just focus. Tunnel vision. I needed it like oxygen. And even though I missed her with a quiet, persistent ache—like something sharp lodged beneath my ribs—I knew this mattered. I couldn't let myself slip now. Not when I was this close.

She texted me every morning, like clockwork:

Blake:
You've got this, sweetheart.
Go show them that terrifyingly beautiful brain of yours.
I'll be here when it's over.

And every night:

Blake:
Proud of you.
Always.
Sleep, breathe, repeat.

We didn't talk on the phone much—there wasn't time. But sometimes, when the silence in my room grew too loud and my eyes were burning from too many hours of staring at notes, I'd scroll through old messages just to feel her voice in my mind. Read the love letters she'd sent. Look at the photo of us on my lock screen—her arms around me, her mouth pressed near my temple, both of us mid-laugh like we had forever in front of us.

It grounded me. Reminded me of who I was doing this for.

George left snacks outside my door with silly notes ("Brie makes you smarter?"). Ivy enforced "quiet hours" with military precision. Ron made it his personal mission to 'revise' with me—except his version included fake flashcards ("Name one Pokémon who could defeat your exam anxiety."). Olivia sent me dramatic voice notes telling me I was brilliant, hot, and not to take crap from anyone—especially the British education system.

Amy was a bundle of nerves the entire fortnight, biting her nails and muttering about somehow forgetting her entire syllabus mid-paper. Ross, by contrast, was irritatingly relaxed. He strolled into exams like he was attending brunch, sipping Lucozade and making jokes about quantum theory right before physics. Amy nearly throttled him.

Gregory tried to say hello to me on the first morning—smug and casual, like we hadn't just had the worst confrontation of my academic life a few weeks ago. I smiled sweetly and said, "If you come near me during these next two weeks, I'll find a way to break your car so creatively you won't be able to claim it on insurance."

He didn't come near me again after that.

I barely saw Blake. Just in passing, sometimes—a glimpse of her at the far end of the corridor, talking to another teacher, head slightly tilted, eyes flicking to mine like she felt me before she saw me. Once, after my second exam, I passed her in the stairwell. She brushed her fingers against mine in a way no one else would notice, and I carried that touch with me all day.