The Girl Who Didn't Go to Harvard

The year Julian Sterling became the nation's top scorer on the SATs, Harvard and MIT were so desperate to recruit him that they offered him a special "Plus One" scholarship—he could bring anyone he wanted with him. Everyone assumed he would give that spot to me. But in the end, the girl who walked through the gates of Harvard Yard with him wasn't me. It was the transfer student, Ivy Brooks. "Harvard is Ivy's dream," Julian told me, his voice calm and reasonable. "She needs this opportunity more than you do." He said my grades were mediocre anyway, that I’d just be looked down on if I went to an Ivy League school. So he "helped" me apply to an art school in New York instead. "Wait for me," he promised. "When we graduate, we'll get married." I didn't wait. I packed my bags and flew to Paris to study art on my own terms. Years later, we met again. Julian stared at the ring on my finger, his eyes red and wet. "Why?" he choked out. "You said you'd only ever marry me." 1 It had been seven years since high school graduation. The first time I heard Julian Sterling's name in nearly a decade was at JFK Airport, waiting for a flight back home. The girl sitting next to me kept glancing my way. Finally, on the seventh look, she leaned in. "Lily? Lily Harper?" I looked up, confused. Her face didn't ring a bell. "It is you! Do you remember me? We went to Westview High together!" Seeing my blank stare, she tried harder. "We were in the drama club? We painted the sets for Grease?" High school felt like a lifetime ago. I racked my brain, but nothing came up. She didn't seem to mind. "It's okay if you don't remember me. But you definitely remember Julian Sterling, right?" Julian Sterling. The moment that name hit the air, my mask slipped. My eyes must have betrayed me because she clapped her hands together. "I knew it! You guys were the Golden Couple of Westview High!" "Remember when Julian got that perfect SAT score? Harvard practically begged him to attend and told him he could bring his girlfriend along." Her eyes sparkled with gossip. "So? Did you guys go to Harvard together? Are you married now? Are you here on a business trip?" She fired off questions like a machine gun. I didn't hear most of them. My mind was already spinning, dragging up memories I thought I had buried deep. Luckily, the boarding announcement saved me. "Sorry, that's my flight," I said, standing up abruptly. She looked confused as I hurried away, leaving her questions hanging in the stale airport air. 2 My escape didn't calm me down. For the entire seven-hour flight, the name "Julian Sterling" echoed in my head like a cursed mantra. Julian was my childhood sweetheart. My "bamboo horse," as they say. He was Westview High's prodigy. He won every math Olympiad, every science fair. When he scored a perfect 1600 on the SATs, recruiters were camping on his front lawn. Harvard and MIT fought over him. To sweeten the deal, they offered him a rare "Partner Admission"—a guaranteed spot for a significant other. Before Julian even made a decision, people were already congratulating me. Everyone knew. Lily and Julian were inseparable. We were a package deal. Sitting in my cramped economy seat, I recalled the envy on that girl's face at the airport. A bitter, ironic smile touched my lips. Seven years later, and people still didn't know the truth. The girl who went to Harvard with Julian wasn't me. 3 I spent the flight in a daze. It wasn't until I landed and heard his voice that the fog lifted. "Hey. You land okay?" "Yeah. Just touched down." "You sound off. Everything alright?" Five words, and he knew. I marveled at Ethan's intuition. "Just jet lag," I lied. I didn't want to burden him with my high school drama. "Get to the hotel and sleep. I'll call you later." "Okay." I hung up and took a cab to the hotel. I tried to sleep, but my phone buzzed. It was Sarah, my old class president. "Lily! You're back in the States? Why didn't you tell anyone?!" I was surprised. "How did you know?" "The alumni group chat! Check it!" I hadn't logged into that Facebook group in years. I barely remembered my password. I scrolled back. Two days ago, someone had posted a candid photo of me at the airport. [OMG! Guess who I saw at JFK? It's Lily Harper!] [I was scared to ask, but it's totally her. She looks even more gorgeous now. So chic!] The photo was a side profile of me dozing off near the gate. The chat exploded. [Is it really her? She hasn't aged a day.] [Is she alone? Where's Julian? Aren't they inseparable?] I scrolled down. Julian's name appeared again and again. It was like we were still tethered together in everyone's minds. Then, a message stopped the flow. [Wait, you guys don't know? Julian and Lily broke up right after graduation.] The chat went wild. [What?!] [No way. Julian worshipped the ground she walked on.] [Why would they break up?] I closed the app. I didn't need to read the theories. Sarah was still talking in my ear. "So, you're in New York? I'm in the city too! We have to grab dinner!" Sarah was the only person from high school I kept in touch with. I agreed. That one "yes" led me straight into the path of the one person I had spent seven years avoiding. Julian Sterling. 4 It was a setup. Or maybe just cosmic bad luck. Sarah picked a trendy restaurant in SoHo. When I walked in, she hugged me tight. "I missed you so much! You look amazing!" She linked her arm in mine, chattering away as we walked toward our table. "You know, Mr. Harrison still talks about you. He was so bummed you didn't go to art school in the States. He tells every freshman class about your talent." "And honestly, I still don't get it. Why did you leave over Julian? It wasn't worth it..." She stopped dead in her tracks. I followed her gaze. Standing near the coat check was a man. Julian. 5 It had been seven years. I had imagined this moment a thousand times. What would he look like? He was wearing a white dress shirt and black slacks. The boyish softness was gone, replaced by sharp angles and a cold, professional aura. He looked successful. Mature. But his eyes—those dark, distant eyes—were exactly the same. Sarah looked back and forth between us, the air suddenly heavy and awkward. "Julian, everyone's here. We're just waiting for you." A soft, melodic voice drifted from behind him. A woman walked up to Julian. She placed a hand on his arm, then noticed us. She froze. Her eyes widened in shock. "Lily...?" I recognized the panic in her voice. It was Ivy Brooks. I looked at her, calm and composed. Honestly, she had no reason to be nervous. She was the winner. I was the one who fled the country. If that girl from the airport were here, I could finally tell her the truth. "The girl who went to Harvard with Julian wasn't me." It was her. Ivy Brooks. 6 Before we were seventeen, Julian and I were basically the same person. We were born on the same day, in the same hospital. Our moms were best friends. We went to the same preschool, same elementary, same middle school. Julian gave me his first Valentine's card. He got into his first fistfight defending my honor. When I got my first period at school, he was the one who ran to the store to buy me pads. We were inevitable. Everyone said so. Then came sophomore year. And Ivy Brooks. She was a transfer student from a small town. Quiet, studious, plain. I didn't pay attention to her until midterms, when she scored second in the class—just one point behind Julian. "Whoa," Sarah had said, looking at the ranking sheet. "Someone's finally giving Julian a run for his money." "Please," I laughed. "Julian's a genius. She won't catch him." I was wrong. She didn't just catch him. She caught his attention.

? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "387282", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel