“Okay,” is all he says as he scoots back to the table and lays his head back down. His breathing slows almost immediately. This guy must be exhausted.

I get settled at the other end of the table as quietly as I can and start on my homework. The first problem Professor Drivels assigned is almost exactly like one example in my notes. I confidently take off, showing my work like he did on the whiteboard in class as he was solving the example.

Since I’ve got quite a few problems to do, I decide to wait until I’ve done a few more before I look in the back of the book to check my answers. The little study room is quiet except for the scratch of my pencil and the occasional soft snore coming from the hot dude.

Before I know it, I’ve completed half of the assigned problems. Wow, maybe this lesson actually sunk in! I take a deep breath as I flip to the back of the book, fingers mentally crossed that I’ve gotten at least one answer right. I’m feeling good about my work.

Ah, here they are… I put my hand over the answers to the problems I haven’t done yet, then compare my answers with the ones in the book.

I got them all wrong.

“Ugh!” I thunk my head down on the book. “How did I get them all wrong? I even had examples!”

Threading my hands through my hair, I lift my head and my eyes meet forest green ones.

Oops… I forgot that I’m not alone.

“I am so sorry! It won’t happen again, I promise.” I pry my eyes away from his and look back at my algebra book.

“Do you need help?” His sleepy voice breaks the awkward silence.

And have you, a mega-hottie, find out that I’m bad at basic math? No thanks.

“Um, no, that’s okay. I’ll just try again. I think I know where I messed up,” I say, to save myself from embarrassment.

“Are you sure? You’re doing math, right? What class are you in?” he says, sitting up. His sleepy voice is replaced by a smooth, warm one.

I should just tell the truth and maybe get some help. But I’ve already tried having other people study with me, and it didn’t work.

“Oh, it’s pretty advanced. I don’t think you’ll be able to help. I’ll finish up later. It’s just an off day.”

Obviously, the right thing to do in this situation is lie my ass off. I’m probably not going to see this guy again, anyway. Let us part ways with him thinking I’m some secret genius. At least maybe then he’ll think well of the girl who let him sleep in her study room.

“I see,” he says, eyebrow raised.

“Oh, look at the time, I better grab some lunch before my next class.” I look down at the not-at-all-real watch on my wrist and gather my stuff up, ready to escape this dumpster fire of a situation. “It’s been real! See ya, Sleepy Dude!”

I hear a snort as I rush out of the study room, not slowing down until I’m out of the library. Time to text Mia to see if she wants an early lunch.

Cameron

The large silicone bumblebee buzzes on the table, and I’m not sure if I should hit it, answer it, or leave it.

I lean back in my chair and stretch my long limbs, my eyes not leaving the bee.

She ran out of here before I could say anything else, but I wanted to thank her for letting me stay and rest.

Normally, I’d rest in my room. But even though my roommate is also on the basketball team—they put us together because we have similar schedules—he’s my least favorite player on the team.

He parades different girls through the room daily. I don’t know when or if he ever goes to class, and I’ve never seen him study. He’s almost been kicked off the team several times because of his grades, but that hasn’t dissuaded him from his reckless lifestyle.

He’s irresponsible, loud, and obnoxious, and I prefer to avoid him at all costs.

So here I am, resting in a random study room at the library. This week has sucked hard. Never mind that it’s only been a couple of weeks since the start of the semester, Coach has still been pushing us with extra workouts. Probably because we were so close to getting that coveted spot in the Sweet Sixteen last year. Half of the team is graduating this year, so I’m sure he thinks this is the closest he’ll get to winning the championship in a long while.

We’ve spent most of our free time practicing, doing shooting drills, and conditioning. It’s slowly killing us all. But Coach is right. Of all the teams in our league, we’re in the best physical condition. At the end of the game, when the other team is running out of steam, we’re just getting our second wind. It’s where we catch up and pull ahead or extend our lead to just out of reach.

I sigh. I was supposed to be reviewing the playbook instead of napping, but I got here, and the room was dark, and I was so tired…