March 2011. The spring thaw brought the mail.

  College acceptance letters were flooding the senior css. My parents had already assured me they would write a bnk check for any private university I wanted, but my pride wouldn't allow it. I needed to prove that my academic discipline hadn't died on the Karate mat. I needed to get in on my own merit.

  When the thick, heavy envelope from the University of Illinois Chicago (UIC) arrived in my mailbox, a massive weight lifted off my shoulders. I was in.

  I didn't text Jessica. I drove straight to the high school.

  I leaned against the doorframe of her final period css as the bell rang.

  "Yo, Cheeto. Get in the car. We’re getting hotdogs."

  "Ohhh, someone’s in a good mood!" She grabbed her bag, eyes lighting up. "Buy me Vanil Latte too!"

  "Get whatever you want. I’m buying."

  We drove to our spot at the park. The weather was still biting, but we didn't care. We sat on the bench, breath misting in the air, unwrapping the foil-wrapped hotdogs like they were gold bars.

  "You are obsessed with this specific hotdog stand," I ughed as we sat on the park bench.

  "They're the best!" she mumbled around a mouthful of food. "I have to eat here as much as possible before we leave for University. I’m going to miss them."

  "Speaking of University..." I smirked, leaning back and crossing my arms. "Guess who is officially a college boy."

  "Whoa! You got your letter?! Congrats, Tiger!!!" She practically tackled me on the bench.

  "Whoa, easy Cheeto, your mustard is going to ruin my jacket!" I ughed, prying her off me. "So? That means your UIC letter arrived too, right?"

  The bright, celebratory energy instantly vanished. Jessica went completely pale. She pulled back, refusing to look me in the eyes.

  "Umm… no. I didn't get a letter from them yet. Maybe I got rejected."

  "What??" I frowned, my heart sinking. "No way. You're in honors csses. You have a great GPA. Maybe the mail is just deyed today."

  "Chill, Daeron. It’s alright," she said, her voice sounding strangely hollow.

  "But we promised—"

  "Don’t worry," she interrupted softly, staring at her half-eaten food. "I actually already got an acceptance letter from UChicago. So even if UIC rejects me, we can still see each other. The campuses aren't that far apart."

  I stared at her. UChicago. It was an elite, private, fiercely competitive school. It was geographically close, but culturally, it was a completely different universe.

  "Well," I sighed, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. "That fucking sucks, though. We agreed to go to the same school."

  She set her food down. She reached out, gently turning my face toward her. "Hey. Let’s make a new promise. No matter what happens, we will meet up every single weekend. Alright?"

  "Of course," I said firmly, staring into her green eyes. "I absolutely promise you."

  She leaned in and kissed me. It was slow, warm, and tasted of sugar and mustard. For a moment, the disappointment faded. I felt her presence was enveloping my soul.

  We finished our Hot vanil tte in the cold air, talking about nothing, while I tried to ignore the future for just a little longer.

  **

  May 2011. Senior spring fever had fully infected the school.

  Everywhere I looked, guys were embarrassing themselves with "Promposals." It was a ridiculous new trend where guys would make giant, glittery posters with terrible puns, or sing in the middle of the cafeteria, just to ask a girl to a dance. It was agonizing to watch.

  I wasn't the type to make a poster. But as the date crept closer, a quiet thought settled in my head. I should just ask Jessica. No fanfare, no cringe-inducing public spectacle. Just me and her.

  When the lunch bell rang, I walked out to our hidden spot in the courtyard. Jessica was already there, hiding behind a brick pilr.

  "Whoa, you beat me here?" I asked, dropping my backpack onto the concrete.

  "Yeah," she groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Some junior just tried to 'prompose' to me by the gym doors. It was so annoying. I had to run away."

  "Damn. Pying hard to get? Quite arrogant, Cheeto," I smirked, leaning against the wall next to her.

  "Shut up! It’s just so cringe!! Why can't guys just ask a girl out normally instead of doing something so performative and corny?"

  "If a guy asked you normally, would you actually say yes?" I chuckled.

  "No! Let them dream," she giggled, her bright energy returning. She nudged my arm. "What about you? Has anyone promposed to you yet?"

  "If any guy tries to prompose to me with a poster, I swear to God, I will kick him squarely in the nuts."

  Jessica ughed loudly, the sound echoing in the empty courtyard.

  I looked at her, deciding to shoot my shot. "So, what’s your actual pn for Prom?"

  Her ughter died. She gnced at me, her green eyes fshing with a sudden, guarded hesitation before she quickly looked up at the sky. "Well... the boys actually asked me to go with them on Prom night. You still haven't made up with Tyson and the group, have you?"

  I let out a slow sigh, my chest tightening. "Well, there’s nothing to make up for. We just drifted."

  "So… you really won’t join the boys at Prom?"

  "I’m not sure." I watched her face carefully. "Do you actually want to go with them?"

  "Yeah. They asked me to go with them as a group," she said smoothly. She looked back at me. "Are you really not going to attend?"

  "Alone? Probably not." I took a breath and leaned forward. "How about you skip the group thing and go with me instead?"

  She completely froze. I saw her throat bob as she swallowed hard. "…. I can’t, Tiger. I already promised the boys I would go with them."

  "Why, though?" I frowned, genuinely confused by her logic. "Alvin and Tyson already have their girlfriends. You're just going to be a massive fifth wheel."

  "….. Well... Jones isn't with Airin anymore," she said, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur.

  "Heh." I rolled my eyes, feeling a spike of annoyance at the mention of the clown. "That dude really has severe commitment issues."

  Jessica watched my reaction closely. "Do you hate him?"

  "No," I answered honestly. "I don't hate him, or any of the guys. Even though we don't hang out or talk anymore, to me, they’re still my brothers. They just have their own lives now."

  "….."

  A heavy, suffocating silence dropped over the courtyard. I had put myself out there, and I had been shot down. She preferred hanging out with my former friends over going to Prom with me.

  "Well," I said, forcing a dry smirk to cover the sting in my chest. "Perhaps I’m just gonna visit my favorite café on Prom night then."

  "Are you sure?" she asked, a flicker of guilt crossing her face. "You’ll miss out on the whole Prom experience."

  "Yeah. I was never fond of sweaty, overly-hyped high school parties anyway. Besides, they don't serve beer," I joked, my voice totally deadpan.

  "Alright then," she smiled softly, reaching out to poke my cheek. "But don’t forget to text me before you go to sleep that night."

  "…..Yeah. Sure."

  The bell rang. I grabbed my bag and walked back to css, the rejection sitting like a lead weight in my stomach.

  *

  Prom night.

  Across the city, the senior css was renting limos, pinning corsages, and taking a million photos for Instagram.

  I was sitting in the back booth of a nearly empty café. To be fair, I wasn't a total outcast. I had actually received a few casual Prom invitations from girls in my homeroom over the past two weeks. But I turned them all down. If I couldn't go with Jessica, I didn't want to go at all.

  I struck a match, lit a cigarette, and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke into the dim air. I had my bck coffee, a pack of smokes, and a thick novel. I convinced myself this was the ultimate chill time. I was above all that high school drama and let the rest of the world pretend they were having the time of their lives.

  **

  June 2011. Graduation Day.

  When my fingers closed around the leather-bound diploma, the high school chapter of my life officially ended. The oppressive routine, the burnt bridges, the dojo exile—it was all finally behind me.

  I walked off the stage and scanned the stadium seating. My parents were standing near the front, cpping loudly and looking incredibly proud. Next to them was my older brother, Julian. He was wearing an obnoxiously expensive tailored suit, looking like he had just stepped off a European runway. He was pretentious, absent-minded, and annoying, but I tolerated his attitude today because he had actually bothered to fly in for my graduation.

  As I walked toward my family, a familiar voice called my name. Alvin.

  He was standing near the bleachers with Tyson, Jones, and the girls. He asked if I would join them for one st group photo. I looked at the crew. We hadn't hung out in months. But looking at the blue graduation gowns, I realized this was truly the end. I swallowed my pride, buried my massive ego, and walked over to them. We took several photos together. It was a silent, bittersweet goodbye to the brotherhood.

  My parents immediately hijacked me afterward for a family photo. They insisted they needed it for their physical "Journey" album. Dad proudly told me I should look through that album more often to appreciate our family history. I absolutely refused. Don’t get me wrong, they were great parents, but they were also wildly free-spirited. That album was packed with photos of their "indecent," highly inappropriate romantic escapades. For fuck's sake, I did not want to know what went on behind their closed doors.

  *

  To celebrate, my family dragged me to a ridiculously "fancy" restaurant downtown. The atmosphere was completely stiff and pretentious—which meant it was absolutely necessary so our dear Julian could eat without compining about the silverware. Sigh.

  "So, Daeron," my dad said, swirling the wine in his gss. "Which apartment do you want to use for the fall semester?"

  I stopped cutting my steak. "'Which'?" I frowned, looking across the table. "What do you mean 'which'?"

  "Well, we own a few residential properties near your University. Didn’t I tell you about the portfolio over Winter Break?"

  "For fuck's sake, old man. You never told me anything about an apartment," I scowled.

  My dad blinked, realizing his mistake. Sometimes he completely confused Julian and me. Because our age gap was small, our facial features were almost identical. The only real difference was that Julian was noticeably taller and built like a skinny runway model, while I was built like a fighter.

  "Oof. Sorry, son. I must have been talking to your brother," Dad chuckled, completely unfazed. He pulled out his smartphone and pulled up a map with several red pins dropped across Chicago. "Well, you know now. Take your pick."

  I leaned over the table, studying the map. One pin was right next to the UIC campus. But my eyes drifted east. There was another pin located in a high-rise district. I did the mental math. It was exactly halfway between UIC and UChicago.

  "I’ll take this one," I said, tapping the screen.

  My mom leaned over to look. "Are you sure, honey? Isn’t that quite a far drive from your campus? There's one right across the street from your csses."

  "Yeah, but a ten-minute drive isn't an issue. The location is perfect," I insisted, keeping my real reasoning entirely to myself. "How much is the rent going to be, Dad?"

  "I told you, it's ours, boy. You'll live rent-free," he smiled proudly, taking a sip of his wine.

  "Heh. Thanks, Dad."

  "You sure do love living off the family dime, innit?" Julian sneered from across the table, ying his fake, grating British accent on thick.

  "Ugh, for fuck's sake, Jilly. You’re not fucking British," I rolled my eyes. "You’re a Spanish-Balkan mutt who grew up in Denmark. A British accent doesn’t match your face. Drop it."

  "At least I possess actual manners and css, unlike you, Darry," he shot back, fshing a try-hard, arrogant smirk.

  "Hey, don’t be like that, boys," my mom interrupted, her eyes sparkling with sudden nostalgia. "Speaking of our heritage, let me tell you the story of why you two actually grew up in Denmark—"

  "NO!!" Julian and I shouted in unison, the entire restaurant turning to look at us. We had heard the story of their wild, uninhibited youth a hundred times, and we definitely didn't want to hear the lewd details while eating a five-star meal.

  *

  July 2011. I packed my bags and moved into my new loft a full month before the fall semester began. I wanted to familiarize myself with the city grid, map out the drive to Jessica's campus, and set my space up exactly the way I wanted it.

  The apartment was incredible. It was a spacious, modern loft with high ceilings and a massive outdoor balcony. It was my sanctuary. On warm summer nights, I could stand out on the balcony, smoke a cigarette, and drink a cold beer while looking out over the glowing city skyline.

  I had complete freedom. No strict Dojo rules, no high school rumors, and an entire city to explore. I couldn't wait for this new chapter of my life to begin.