It was 7:30 a.m., and as scheduled, we all came out for a jog. Zina and I got tired and decided to take a break while Ryan and James continued running. It was surprising to see him so enthusiastic, considering he had made an excuse not to join us. I lay on the grass with Zina, both of us panting for air. Suddenly, Zina's stomach rumbled. I spoke before she could whine for the thousandth time.
"I'll text the guys to meet us at the food truck stand," I said, standing up and reaching out to help her up.
"Oprah texted," she said with a grunt as she regained her balance.
"The final performance will be this week," she continued as we started walking.
"It's so sad we couldn't watch her perform. It would have been better if we were there to support her," I said with concern.
"Trust me, she'll get more tense if we're around," Zina replied.
"Yeah, true," I smiled at the memory of Oprah always chasing us out of the music room whenever she practiced a piece.
"She'll be back as soon as she's done, though," Zina said, taking a sip from her water bottle.
"Yeah, I can't wait to have her back. I hope she wins, though."
"Come on, Anne, stop worrying. We're talking about Oprah here; she's a genius."
"Yeah, she is," I said, stopping mid-step as I noticed a tall, built figure walking on the opposite road across the garden that separated our paths.
"What'd you stop for, Anne?" Zina asked, noticing my hesitation.
"Is that Nic?" I asked, ignoring her question.
"I don't know. I can't tell, but..."
Too late.
"Nic!" I yelled.
He turned, and for a split second, there was something in his expression—softness, relief—but it vanished just as quickly. He walked past us, seemingly ignoring the moment we just shared.
My chest tightened with confusion. The other night, I thought he cared, but now it feels like he regrets even helping me.
"Oh, Anne, I guess you were mistaken," Zina said as she held my hands, urging me to move forward.
"I wasn't, Zee. You saw him; he turned and ignored me," I replied, hurt swelling in my chest.
"If you claim it was him, the key word there is 'ignore.' He ignored you," she pointed out.
"He did," I said, still feeling the sting of rejection.
"Anne, you really need to get over your crush on him. It's pretty obvious he doesn't want anything to do with you."
She was right.
"Yeah," I said softly.
"Girl! Don't let that ruin your mood. Let's go get breakfast!"
We continued our stroll to the food trucks, and then I remembered my first study session with Ryan.
A few days later...
It was already Thursday evening, and I was still hurt by Nic ignoring me. I had to put an end to whatever crush I had on him. My first study session with Ryan, which was supposed to take place on Monday, had not gone as planned, so we moved it to Thursday evening at the main library's annex.
I walked to the library, slipping on a purple sweater and a ruffled skirt, and pulled my hair up into a casual bun. As I scanned the study pods, I spotted Ryan sitting in the one he had mentioned. We exchanged a few pleasantries before diving right into our work.
My first study session with Ryan was incredible; he didn't exaggerate about being a good tutor. He explained concepts clearly, suggesting I think of integration as the opposite of differentiation, which suddenly made the tricky equations seem manageable. We tackled equations together, and after two hours, we decided to take a break. We shared laughter, swapping campus gossip and debating the absurdity of mandatory orientation lectures. I found him to be quite likable and a great talker once he relaxed. For the first time in days, I felt genuinely at ease, free from my father's expectations and Nic's watchful eye.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed, breaking the moment. I hadn't received any messages for the last couple of hours, so I was intrigued to see who reached out. My heart dropped when I read the text.
It was the first message I'd received from him since my dad had told me to save his number for whenever I needed help. He must've got my contact from my dad as well.
Nic: We need to talk. Library annex, private study, room 2. Ten minutes.
The private study was just a short walk from where Ryan and I were. Nic must have seen us as he entered.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"Anne?" Ryan's voice caught me off guard.
"No, but Nic's at the library and wants to see me. I think he noticed us."
"Will it be a problem?" he asked, his brow furrowing.
"I guess I'll find out."
Nic didn't just text; he issued a demand. I excused myself to Ryan, promising to return shortly.
Though Nic hadn't reached out in a while, I knew this wouldn't be pleasant. I stepped into the enclosed study, which was surprisingly spacious for just one person. Nic was already there, his leather briefcase sitting on the table like a menacing presence. He didn't invite me to sit; his steely gaze was commanding enough.
"I see you noticed me with Ryan," I said, skipping the formalities.
"I did," he replied firmly, stepping toward me to close the door. I instinctively took a step back, wary of getting too close, before he spoke again.