35. "I drink a bit of Vodka and listen to The Smiths"

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Got into UAL!! So bloody happy!

Anyone else got their UAL acceptance letter because mine came today and I am absolutely buzzing!

It came! @UAL read another tweet, with a picture of attached of a guy looking delirious with happiness holding his letter, the University of the Arts London logo plastered across the top of the paper.

I huff and click out of the Twitter app, throwing my phone on the bed. Everybody else seemed to be getting their acceptance letters. Where the hell is mine? I'd been checking the mail every day for the past two weeks since I saw on Twitter that people were starting to get theirs. And I'd made sure when I sent in the application to put the address of the London flat rather than my mum's address; still, I'd been texting her most days just to check if it had gone there instead but no sign yet.

The only conclusion that I've come to after hours spent overthinking is that I haven't got in. They probably send out all the acceptance letters first and then all the rejection letters second, because the university is probably less bothered about the rejects.

Once I come to this realisation, I can't stop thinking about how I haven't got in. It shouldn't bother me so much because I already know the feeling of rejection; I felt it last year. I was just so sure that my application was so much stronger this year.

I pull out the bottle of Absolut Raspberry Vodka from under my bed where I keep it hidden so that other people don't get their hands on it and take a swig. And then another. And another. The more I drink, the less I think about UAL and how I haven't got in, yet again, and that's exactly the goal here. However, sitting here in my room is still not distracting enough and I have a sudden urge to get out of this flat. Fresh air always helps me clear my head of unwanted thoughts.

Pulling a hoodie on over my torso, I slip my camera around my neck - I've recently fallen into the habit of taking it everywhere with me - and pour some of my Vodka into the hip flask that Gemma bought me as part of my eighteenth birthday present. Then I make my way quietly through the flat in the hopes that I can get out without being noticed, spotting a stray beanie on one of the coat hooks and tugging it on over my hair in preparation for the cold outside. As I reach the point just a few feet away from the front door, I feel like my mission has been pretty successful.

"Where are you going?"

Or not.

I turn my head to see Brad is poking his head around the corner. I'm annoyed that he's seen me but I'm glad it's Brad and not Tris who has caught me; it's easier for me to bend Brad to my will.

"Out" I reply vaguely, turning back to the door and finishing those last few feet.

"It's nearly one"

"Right, so this is normal for me" I murmur, unlocking the door and opening it.

"Ella" he calls, and I turn to him again, "you're not really going out on your own at this time?"

"Um, yeah" I say matter-of-fairly.

"Babe, don't be stupid" He sighs. His eyes keep flitting between my face and the hip flask but he doesn't mention it.

"I'm only going for a walk, not graffiti-ing anyone's cars" I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"You really think I'm gonna let you go out on your own at this time?" he asks in a sarcastic tone.

"You really think you're gonna stop me from doing anything I wanna do?" I snort. He stares at me for a couple of moments and then sighs.

"Fine, then I'm coming with you" he huffs, grabbing his Harrington jacket from the coat hook. I internally groan because I wanted to go for a walk on my own but I guess I would feel a little safer having him with me.

Love & War | Brad Simpson ✔️Where stories live. Discover now