Chapter Seven

Monday;

The weekend had passed by in a flash, slipping through my fingers far too quickly. Monday morning hit like a cold splash of water, and before I knew it, Lea and I were hunched over our desks in General Physics, wading through the maze of our group activity.

This was our second lecture of the day. Biophysics had been first, but Lea was notably absent, probably still tangled up in her bedsheets and swatting at her blaring alarms. She barely managed to shuffle into General Physics on time, looking every bit the part of someone who just rolled out of bed. She wore baggy sweatpants, a pink tank top, and her hair was a wild mess, stray strands sticking out every which way.

While she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, I tried to focus on the assignment we were supposed to be working on. At least I'd been productive yesterday—I'd managed to finish up that assignment for Prof. Montgomery. After a quick proofread, I hit send, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. Now, all that was left was this group project and keeping Lea awake through the lecture.

At the start of the lecture, a frazzled student nervously raised her hand, asking if she could submit her assignment later in the day since she'd forgotten about it. Prof. Montgomery didn't even look up from her papers. "No," she replied flatly, her tone cold and final, before resuming her grading. Harsh, but typical of her—there was no room for leniency in her world.

Beside me, Lea yawned and rubbed her eyes, fighting off the last remnants of sleep. We were making our way through the questions, jotting down notes and doing research on my laptop. Despite her grogginess, Lea was pushing through, though I could see her eyelids drooping every now and then. "I need energy," she muttered, shaking her head in defeat. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a can of Monster, cracking it open with a loud hiss. Without a second thought, she tilted her head back and chugged half the drink in one go.

The lecture hall was quiet, everyone focused on their work, when suddenly Lea let out a monstrous burp that echoed off the walls. Heads whipped around in our direction, wide-eyed and startled. Prof. Montgomery's gaze snapped to us, her expression one of pure disgust, as if Lea had just committed a crime against humanity. Lea, on the other hand, simply wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, unbothered and already reaching for another sip.

I flashed an apologetic smile to the other students, feeling the weight of their amused and disapproving stares, then quickly refocused on our work. Despite the minor interruption, Lea and I were making solid progress, our notes slowly coming together as we pieced through each question.

Lea squinted at her laptop screen, scrolling through endless pages. "I can't find anything on this question," she muttered, frustration edging her voice as she clicked through another dead-end link. Her brow furrowed as she searched, and after a few moments, I abandoned my own task to help her look. We sifted through articles and forums, but nothing seemed to match what we needed.

Lea leaned back, tapping her fingers on the desk in thought. "Fuck it, I'll ask the professor," she declared, pushing her chair back.

My eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait, what? You're actually going to ask her?" I blurted out, stunned. Lea, willingly seeking help from Prof. Montgomery—the professor who had no patience for hand-holding? That was practically unheard of. I couldn't imagine her risking a direct interaction with the notoriously strict professor over a question we were supposed to figure out on our own.

Before I could even attempt to stop her, Lea snatched up the paper and marched confidently toward Prof. Montgomery's desk. The room seemed to hold its breath as she approached, and I watched as the professor let out a weary sigh, setting down her pen with visible annoyance. She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing as Lea began explaining the problem.

Lea gestured animatedly to the paper, pointing back in my direction. Prof. Montgomery's gaze followed, locking onto me with an icy stare. I quickly diverted my attention, pretending to be utterly absorbed by the blank document on my laptop, my fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard. I could feel the heat of her scrutiny, and my heart pounded in my chest as I tried to look as busy as possible.

Lea returned after what felt like an eternity, flopping back into her chair with a loud, frustrated sigh that echoed through the quiet classroom. "Well, that was a complete waste of time," she grumbled, rubbing her temples in exasperation.

I looked at her, puzzled. "What did she say?"

Lea rolled her eyes, her expression a mix of disbelief and irritation. "She asked if we've ever heard of a library and told me to leave her alone," she mimicked in a sharp tone, throwing her hands up as if surrendering to the absurdity.

I couldn't help but stifle a laugh. That was so on brand for Prof. Montgomery—harsh and completely dismissive, but with just enough of a point to make it sting. "That sounds exactly like her," I chuckled, shaking my head. "Guess we're on our own."

For the rest of the lecture, Lea and I quietly played games on my laptop, hunched over the screen like kids sneaking around after bedtime. We couldn't continue the group activity since all the crucial information was buried somewhere in the library—a place neither of us was thrilled to visit right now. So, we settled on playing Fire Boy and Water Girl, a nostalgic game that brought back memories of rainy afternoons spent with my mom, huddled over the same glowing screen.

"Just a reminder, you only have one more class to finish this activity," Prof. Montgomery called out in her usual monotone, her words trailing off as if she couldn't care less. With that, she dismissed us with a bored wave of her hand, barely looking up from her desk.

Lea and I quickly gathered our things, shoving notebooks and pens into our bags before making a beeline for the door. "Where to now?" Lea asked, scanning the hallway like she was hoping for a sudden escape route to appear.

"The library," I replied, jerking my head in the direction of the towering glass doors at the end of the corridor.

Lea's face twisted into a dramatic scowl, and she dragged her feet as if she were being led to her doom. "No way you actually want to go to the library to work on that stupid activity," she whined, crossing her arms as she slowed her pace.

I glanced back at her, amused by her theatrics. "If we just get it done now, we won't have to stress about it later." I shrugged, determined to keep moving toward the library.

Lea let out a loud, exaggerated groan, throwing her head back as if the weight of responsibility was too much to bear. "Fine, but only because you're making me," she grumbled, reluctantly trailing behind me with all the enthusiasm of a cat being dragged through water.

We spent the next hour hunched over a growing pile of books and articles, flipping through pages that blurred together with each passing minute. The quiet hum of the library felt like a mocking reminder of our fruitless search. Every time I thought we were getting close, the text would veer off-topic, leaving us just as clueless as before.

Lea's frustration was palpable; her fingers tapped restlessly on the table, and she sighed every few minutes as she scanned yet another useless paragraph. I was on the verge of giving up too—my eyes were burning, and the constant rustling of paper was starting to drive me mad.

Lea glanced at her phone, squinting at the time. "I gotta go," she muttered, rubbing her eyes. "Another boring lecture to suffer through." She stuffed her notes back into her bag with a heavy sigh, her movements sluggish, like she was already dreading her next class.

"See you later," I said, watching as she slouched toward the exit, her messy bun bobbing with each slow step. The library doors swung shut behind her, and I was left alone, surrounded by stacks of unhelpful books.

With a resigned sigh, I turned back to the hefty volume in my hands, determined to find something—anything—that would answer the question we were stuck on. The soft glow of the library lights overhead felt oddly comforting, even as my patience wore thin. But I wasn't ready to leave empty-handed just yet.

The library doors slid open with a soft hiss, followed by the sharp, rhythmic click of high heels striking the polished floor. The sound cut through the quiet like a metronome, and I instinctively glanced up from my book. "Incompetent TA," a low, irritated voice muttered, the words dripping with disdain.

I looked toward the source and spotted Professor Montgomery striding down an aisle, her expression twisted in annoyance. She was rummaging through the rows of books with a kind of aggressive precision, her movements quick and sharp. "I asked for one thing, and that idiotic son of a bitch couldn't even do it correctly," she grumbled under her breath, snatching a thick, leather-bound volume from the shelf as if it had personally offended her.

She spun around abruptly, her eyes locking onto mine with a piercing glare. "What?" she snapped, her voice a cold hiss that sent a shiver down my spine. I froze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Before I could even think of a response, she rolled her eyes, the gesture full of exasperation, and stormed out of the library, her heels echoing in her wake.

I watched her go, stunned into silence. My aunt's words rang in my ears—there was no way that new TA would last long under Professor Montgomery's icy gaze and impossible standards. She was a force of nature, and it was clear she had little patience for anyone who didn't meet her exacting expectations.

✿

It was just past six in the evening, and the warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the windows of Midnight Mocha, casting long shadows across the café. I leaned against the counter, tapping my fingers idly as I waited for my order, iced coffee and two slices of cake. The café buzzed softly with the sounds of quiet conversations and the occasional clink of cups.

My aunt had texted me earlier to let me know she was home, exhausted from her shift at the hospital. I figured I'd surprise her with her favorite treat—something sweet and a drink to help her unwind after a long day.

Behind the counter, a young barista was busy preparing my order. I recognized her immediately: long brown hair pulled into a low ponytail, eyes focused as she worked the espresso machine. I'd seen her on my first day of university when she'd accidentally collided with an older woman, and again, just a week later, when we'd bumped into each in the cafe. Ivy, I think her name was—or something like that.

She glanced up briefly, catching my eye with a small, polite smile before returning to her task. The faint hiss of the steam wand filled the air as she finished up, and I couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic, remembering the awkward encounters that now seemed like a distant memory.

Ivy finished up my order with practiced efficiency, placing the iced coffee and cake slices into a neatly packed bag. She handed it over the counter with a quick nod, her smile faint but genuine. After paying, I thanked her, gave a small wave, and made my way out of the café, the bell above the door chiming softly as I left.

Outside, the evening air was cool, and the sky was painted in hues of pink and orange. I carefully placed the bag on the passenger seat, taking a moment to make sure it wouldn't topple over during the drive. Satisfied that everything was secure, I slid into the driver's seat, turned the key in the ignition, and let the engine purr to life.

Soft tunes played on the radio, a mellow indie track that matched the laid-back mood of the evening. As I drove, the city lights began to flicker on, one by one, casting a gentle glow on the quiet streets. I tapped my thumbs on the steering wheel, matching the beat of the music as I wound through familiar roads.

A short drive later, I pulled into the driveway of my aunt's house. The familiar brick façade and neatly trimmed garden welcomed me home. I stepped out of the car, the cool breeze brushing against my skin, and walked around to the passenger side. I carefully lifted the bag, balancing the drinks and cake as I made my way up the steps, eager to surprise my aunt with a little sweetness at the end of her long day.

Stepping inside, the familiar scent of lavender and lemon cleaner greeted me, mingling with the faint aroma of fresh coffee. I made my way to the kitchen, where Aunt Grace was tidying up, wiping down the counters with slow, methodical movements. Her posture was tired, shoulders slightly slumped from a long day's work.

"Hey, Auntie Grace," I called out warmly, heading straight for the fridge with the cake in hand. I tucked it onto the top shelf, making sure it was prominently displayed, a sweet little surprise for later.

Aunt Grace glanced up, her eyes softening at the sight of me. She took the iced coffee I offered, wrapping her hands around the cup as if it were a lifeline. "Bless you, honey," she murmured, taking a long sip. "I'm way too lazy to cook tonight," she confessed, her voice tinged with exhaustion and gratitude. The first sip seemed to melt some of the day's stress away, and she let out a contented sigh.

I hopped up onto the counter, my feet dangling as I gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it," I shrugged, leaning back on my palms. "I'm not that hungry anyway."

Aunt Grace chuckled, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and affection as she joined me on the counter, settling beside me with her coffee in hand. She took another sip, savoring it, then glanced over at the fridge, a playful grin spreading across her face. "Did I see a little something sweet going in there?" she asked, raising her eyebrows mischievously.

I laughed softly, knowing exactly what she was hinting at. "Yeah, just a little pick-me-up," I teased, nudging her shoulder lightly. "But only if you've been good today."

She laughed, the sound light and genuine, the weariness in her eyes momentarily replaced by warmth.

With a teasing smirk, I hopped off the counter, my feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. I swung open the fridge, reaching for the two neatly packed boxes that had been waiting inside. The cold air wafted out as I pulled the containers closer, popping one open to reveal a slice of perfectly frosted vanilla cake. The fluffy layers were thick, and the sweet aroma filled the kitchen like a comforting hug.

Aunt Grace's eyes widened with delight, her hands clapping together like an excited child. She eagerly grabbed the box from me, her expression one of pure joy. "Pass me a fork," she ordered playfully, nodding toward the drying rack where clean utensils were waiting.

I retrieved a fork, handing it to her before grabbing my own slice of cake. We settled back on the counter, side by side, and without wasting a second, we dove into our desserts. The first bite was heavenly, the sweetness melting on my tongue, a perfect balance of vanilla and cream. Aunt Grace savored hers with a contented hum, her eyes closing briefly as if savoring every ounce of flavor.

Halfway through, we instinctively switched boxes, sliding them across the counter without even looking. I handed her my cheesecake, rich and decadent, and took her vanilla slice in return. We'd been doing this for years—sharing half of whatever we had, from bags of chips to slices of cake, like it was our unspoken ritual, a bond that needed no words.

Sitting there, trading bites and leaning into the easy rhythm of our shared tradition, everything felt right. This was our way of connecting after long days, a simple, sweet reminder that even the smallest things could bring comfort and joy.

After finishing the last crumb of cake, I hopped off the counter, the cool tile sending a slight shiver up my legs. I crumpled the empty box in my hands, tossing it into the trash with a satisfying thud, and placed the fork in the sink with a faint clink.

"Have you made any friends yet?" Aunt Grace asked, her voice light but hopeful. She followed my lead, disposing of her own empty box before turning her full attention to me, eyes glimmering with anticipation.

"I think so," I said with a small nod, my mind drifting to Lea and our shared moments. "Her name's Lea, and we're working on a group activity together."

Aunt Grace's face lit up instantly, and before I could even register her excitement, she pulled me into a tight, warm hug, her joy bubbling over. "I am so happy for you, honey!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with genuine pride. "I really hope she's a good friend for you."

The hug lingered, filled with the kind of comfort only Aunt Grace could give, and I couldn't help but smile against her shoulder, feeling her happiness wash over me like a wave of reassurance.

"Let's just hope she still wants to be my friend after this group activity," I said, shrugging as I pulled back from Aunt Grace's hug. "For all I know, she's just hanging out with me because we have to work together."

I tried to sound nonchalant, but my words were tinged with uncertainty. The truth was, I was used to being alone; it had become my default setting. And if things went back to that, I'd manage, like always. But there was something undeniably nice about having someone like Lea around, even if it was just for the rest of the year.

It felt good—almost foreign—to share a drink, a laugh, or even a slice of cake with someone other than Aunt Grace. It was a small taste of what I'd been missing, and I realized that, maybe, I didn't want it to end just yet.