the hating game ; lrh

forty-seven

WHEN WE STEP INTO Yale the following day, the sky somehow seems brighter and bluer than before — in fact, the whole world does.

Luke and I roam the campus hand-in-hand, smiling and laughing and being together, not afraid of being caught out by anybody and just enjoying us. We take a tour of the campus in the morning, looking around the seemingly endless libraries, dorm rooms and dining halls until we are finally led to the Dean's office where we will have our interviews.

I sit on a hard wooden bench outside the Dean's office, gnawing at my lip and tearing my fingernails apart as I wait for Luke to finish his interview. I glance at my watch for probably the millionth time — forty minutes. That's how long he has been in there for. Don't these things normally only last for twenty minutes at the most? Regardless, surely that is a good sign?

Just as I am contemplating what exactly could be happening inside that room, the door to the office swings open and Luke and the Dean come waltzing out, laughing heartily and loudly. I stand up from my seat instinctively, watching as Luke shakes the man's hand.

"Such a pleasure to meet you, Mr Hemmings," the Dean beams up at my boyfriend, shaking his hand very firmly.

Luke shakes his head at this, brushing the comment aside. "The pleasure is all mine, sir," I am taken aback at how charming and gentlemanly Luke is coming across — he is rarely like this even with me. "I hope to see you soon."

"I'm sure you will," he responds, clapping Luke on the back once before watching him walk toward me. "Rory Hood! Come on in."

I don't exchange any words with Luke as I pass him, only a nervous glance which he shakes his head to, communicating that I shouldn't worry. I take a deep breath as I step inside the office and sit down across from the Dean, offering the grey-haired man what I hope is a confident and charming smile as he flips open my file.

"So, Rory," he pushes his glasses further up his nose, studying the paper before him for a moment before looking up to me with a smile. "Tell me a little bit about yourself."

"Well, I've lived in California my whole life with my twin brother and our mum," I begin explaining what I had been rehearsing for the past few weeks, speaking with confidence and conviction. "I'm hard-working and passionate about the things that I love. I—"

The Dean holds up his hand to stop me from talking. "I don't want to hear about your work ethic or your grades," he tells me, surprising me slightly and certainly throwing me off guard. "I want to know what makes you you. How are you different from other applicants?"

"I... I guess that's a hard answer to sum up in a few minutes," I say, but when the Dean starts frowning and scribbling in my file, I quickly kick my mind into action. "I'm driven by the things that aim to weaken me. When I'm presented with a challenge I rise to the occasion, I don't run from it."

I sit up a little straighter, feeling proud of myself for thinking so quickly on the spot. The Dean, however, doesn't seem particularly interested in this, instead nodding silently and continuing to write on my page. After a moment he looks up.

"It says here that you like to write," he highlights, finger pointed presumably at the space on the page where it says so.

"Yes, sir," I confirm, my gaze following his finger for a moment before looking back up to meet his eye.

"Tell me about that," he prompts, seeming somewhat interested.