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NATHAN
How is it already Wednesday?
I shouldn’t have put this off so long.
My bag sits heavier because of the weight of my deadline, the strap cutting into my shoulder. Two days until not only a detailed lesson plan is due, but also a write-up on the theory behind my activity choice.
Whoever thought getting a degree to teach elementary school kids was easy was vastly mistaken.
Can’t I just hang out with kids all day, making fun crafts and playing ridiculous games?
Apparently not. Shaping young minds is not something the university takes lightly. They expect me to work my ass off for the chance.
But I know I can get the assignment done. I just need to buckle down and concentrate.
No luck of that if I head back to my dorm.
There’s only one place I know where I can get a few solid hours of uninterrupted work time.
The library lobby is teeming with people, and I maneuver around them to reach the elevator. The Spot won’t have loud, chattering crowds. Up there, I’ll be able to sink into the cushy chair and concentrate on my notes.
Or at least, I’d be able to if Shorty wasn’t already there. Her midnight waterfall of hair obscures her face as she bends over a textbook and scribbles a furious stream of notes.
A sigh leaks out of me. I accept temporary defeat and trudge over to the desk she resigned herself to yesterday when I was the victorious one. It’s a sad replacement for The Spot, but maybe she won’t be long.
As if hearing my thoughts, Shorty glances up at me, tucking her hair behind her ear in the process.
She’s got on another one of her funky outfits. High-waisted turquoise shorts and a crop top with text printed on it. I wish I could get close enough to read the words.
Immediately after meeting my eyes, she shifts them away, pretending the gaze-clashing meant nothing. But there’s no hiding the triumphant smirk curling her lips.
A muffled snort escapes me as I drop my bag next to the third-rate chair I’m left with. As I pull out my laptop, I let my stare wander back to her.
She sets her notes aside, and I pause in my unpacking to see if she’s about to head out, leaving me with The Spot. But my hopes are quickly squashed.
Instead of putting her things away, Shorty reaches into her backpack to pull out more items. A textbook, a folder, another textbook. And from beside the chair, where I couldn’t see at first, she lifts up a lunchbox and starts to unload a sandwich and bag of chips. Each item gets placed on the coffee table in front of her with deliberate precision.
And the message is clear.
Fuck off. The Spot is mine.
I turn my head away, so she won’t see the ridiculous grin spreading across my face. For some reason, I find her silent statement hilarious.
And I look forward to the next time I have the upper hand.
4
HANNAH
He’d better not be doingwhat I think he’s doing.
It’s Thursday afternoon, and to my unfortunate lack of surprise, Lucifer has beaten me to The Chair again. With the dwindling light outside the window, it would be nice to have a lamp just over my shoulder instead of relying on the fluorescent lighting high up above me.
A luxury my nemesis is not taking advantage of.
Because he’s sleeping.
The guy has his feet propped up on the table again, fully reclining in The Chair, with his head tilted back. At first, I thought he might just be giving his eyes a break from the textbook in his lap.
