Cam at 3:42 PM: I failed
Grant at 4:08 PM: ???
Grant at 4:08 PM: Your test???
Grant at 4:09 PM: Your city???
Cam at 4:09 PM: I studied so long and so hard!
Cam at 4:10 PM: It was for my major and it's so embarrassing and I can't believe it!
Cam at 4:11 PM: I'm going to have to take a summer class and make it up because I won't graduate because I didn't build this into my schedule
Incoming FaceTime Video: Grant
Call Declined
Cam at 4:13 PM: I'm crying and I look hideous
Grant at 4:14 PM: I don't care. Just pick up please
Incoming FaceTime Video: Grant
"Stop it. Uncover the camera... I just want to see you." Grant's voice droned. "There you are-- you still look beautiful. Sad, but beautiful."
"Stop it. Grant, I'm going to fail and I won't graduate and I'll have to take a summer course and retake the class and my scholarship won't cover it and I can't drop it because it's after the deadline and I'm barely passing the other class because I'm so swamped with all of my classes and work and everything else and I can't do it and I'm not stupid but it's not fair! I can't withdraw from the class because I already got a W and that won't look good if every decide to go to law school or grad school or what if employers look at it and decide not to hire me?!" I ranted without taking a break. I think Buddhist monks in solitary who spend their days meditating felt my stress permeating through the air all the way in New York.
"It's not the end of the world. Babe, I didn't even finish college." Grant replied calmly. I wish I could freak out and acknowledge that he referred to me as 'Babe.' Though I really could continue freaking out and add that to the list of reasons and not say why-- not like he would notice.
"Yeah, but you have talent. And worst case scenario: you're, like, really attractive. That's a thing-- people are more inclined to hire you if you're good-looking. So even if you were someone with no talent like me, you're hot so you'd be just fine."
"What?" Grant made a face with a furrowed brow and scrunched up nose. It was a meme-worthy expression of a face you would see if you heard something ridiculous like it snowing in July or the moon falling into the ocean.
"Yeah, no, that's a thing." I defended.
"Thank you, I think? Maybe? Either way, you'll manage. This isn't the first time you probably thought you were going to fail and it won't be the last even with you graduating. You'll be afraid of failing if you continue to go to school or at your job or in a relationship or literally anything.
"But you'll manage because I believe in you and you're going to work hard and you're going to study and you're going to kill it and maybe you'll get a C but it won't be an F and you'll be fine. Hey, C's get degrees," Grant said as a way to calm me down and give me a pep talk and a pick-me-up. It was beginning to work a little bit. Whenever I thought I was going to fail, I always managed to pull through and at least pass with a decent grade-- never lower than C+ and if I had a C+, it was a hard class.
"Yeah, but A's get baes." I countered.
"Well, you got me," he added with a wink.
"Yeah, I guess, even though we aren't a thing." I said off-handedly. I don't know why I said it. I should not have said it. It was too late. I had said it and now, Grant was talking. He was talking and answering and responding and acknowledging my slip.
"Yeah, I guess. Why aren't we though? A thing, I mean?"
"I don't know. I mean-- do you want to be?" Oh, because I want to be and I want you to want to be but this probably isn't the time to be having this conversation because I am so not Ok right now.
"I mean-- I don't know, never mind. Forget I said anything. You should relax and eat ice cream and not worry about studying for the rest of the night." Good job, you little twerp, you scared him away. Back to the Friend Zone you go because on a scale of 1-10, you, my dear, are Eponine. "Text me?" He offered up.
I nodded. Granted, I just wanted to talk to him and FaceTime him all day and through the night until I saw him again but texting would have to suffice. Who am I kidding? He would never like me. My nose is weird and I'm short and frumpy, especially when compared to that leggy, blonde dancer ex-girlfriend of his. I really need to stop Googling things about him-- it's clearly doing wonders for my self-esteem. But, seriously, I should just be happy that he's my friend and acknowledging my existence because, let's be honest, to go from her to me isn't even a downgrade-- it's more like charity.
"You'll be fine, I promise. We're going to get through this," Grant assured me as he gave me wave as a sign-off.
I gave him a small smile in response and ended the call. I'm glad he didn't say goodbye because honestly I don't like the thought of saying bye to him.
Shoving my phone into my pocket, I retreated to my room to drown my sorrows in stand-up comedy and double stuff Oreo cookies. Four hours into my Binge Fest-- I had watched all of Iliza Schlesinger's Netflix specials and John Mulaney's New in Town and had eaten an entire row of cookies before I heard a knock on the door. All was well until I heard that knock on my door.
YOU ARE READING
granted. // (grant gustin fan fic)
Fanfiction|a Grant Gustin fan fic through a stream of text messages| • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • It was Barry Allen. It was The Flash. It was...
