ONE HECTIC SHIFT—that was eventually Sydney-free—and double two-hour classes later, I made the trek back to my dorm building, on the actual brink of death.

My roommate was blowing up my phone with several variations of are you in yet, my sister had sent me about fifty DEETS! by now, at the top of my notifications was a reminder about my mom coming to Boston in two days, and one from study group about an overnight session in the library the next day. I was tempted to ask our redhead coordinator how much she thought caskets cost just to get a rise out of her.

There were a few basketball courts sprinkled across campus, and while they all were active, there was only one that was both close to a cafeteria and the student gym; a very busy thirst trap for the Stephen Curry wannabes and single pringles—a term my sister picked up from one of the cousins on the Nigerian side of the family. Unfortunately though, that court happened to be on my way.

We had that comfortable warmth that punctuated a typical August evening in Boston, and spurred feverish interest in the outdoors, so there was a rowdy game on today. Tall college boys in baggy shorts running after a ball, and their so-called fans hanging around, half of which were only there to feed their eyes and tap into the unbridled joy that came with an adrenaline pump.

As I approached, I plugged in the cheap wireless earphones I bought off some online vendor a couple weeks ago, and tapped play on a random afterschool playlist. Instinctively, I smoothed a hand over my hair to tame any stray curls that might've come out of my bun during the rush of the day. I'd been too lazy—and broke—to make the trip to the hairdresser's for something decent, and the only student I knew that could handle my thick curls lived on the other side of campus. The survival of my hair could be owed to the criminally small yet expensive jar of shea butter I'd run out of soon.

Regardless of how loud my music was, the activity from the court and its environs still pierced through my earphones until it all became a mess of sound. I hated noise, and I was aware that this was how it was going to be until at least ten p.m. So I saved myself the anxiety-driven episode I knew I was going to have later if I kept this up.

Barely five seconds after I turned my music off, I regretted it.

In my peripheral vision, I noticed someone break through the crowd and come up to the barrier net in a jog, and I didn't need to look to know who it was. I'd recognize that six-foot frame anywhere.

"Yo, De!" Jason Rivera's voice cut through the noise, but I pretended like I didn't hear him. Unfortunately, that didn't stop him from talking. As per usual. "You seen my boy Syd at all today?"

I spared him a few seconds, once again hating the fact that despite all the mischievous stunts he pulled, he looked crazy good. His thick hair had been pulled into two braids that accentuated his unfairly defined jaw, and his dark skin glowed with a sheen of sweat. He was in a simple ensemble—tank top, baggy shorts, Nikes—a break from his usual cargo pants and sweatshirts and hoodies, but he remained easy on the eyes as always.

That was the thing about Carlton University; it seemed to attract the finest, albeit immature, eye candy. You wanted a pretty boy to look at, they abounded here. It was such a shame that a good percentage of them had fallen victim to the infamous hookup app whose access link had circulated around campus with light speed sometime in January.

I could blame an entire host of things for it—the impulsive computer science and mathematics double major who had dabbled in coding one too many times and was too occupied thinking about the possible ways he could disrupt Carlton's dating pool a year before he was supposed to graduate; winter blues for contributing to the appeal; the unbeatable urge to explore collegiate pleasures—but I knew commitment was just a foreigner on these grounds. Students wanted to have fun without the weight of exclusive labels, and the chance to do that was dropped into their laps. Too good to pass up.

At the reminder of the app, a sting zapped across my chest, and I shook the thought out of my mind. That was the last thing I wanted to think about.

"Is that question for me?" I asked Jace, hoping my poker face was intact, and the resulting cunning tilt to one side of his lips had a muscle in my jaw tingling.

"Anyone else named De around here?"

"Out of all the people you could ask about his whereabouts, you chose me." I gestured to myself with a raised eyebrow, hoping he'd catch on to how off that sounded.

"Just answer the question."

I dramatically let out a sigh that only seemed to amuse him further. "He stopped by Grace's Place this morning for a dose of poison. Why?"

"He was talking about some PDF things he needed from you the other day, and his phone's been off since last night, so yeah. He ditched the boys."

"Sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

He held onto the net for a moment, leaning some of his weight on one leg and placing his free hand against his hip. "Why do you sound so defensive all the time?"

I smiled, a little humorlessly, because this was not the kind of conversation you had in broad daylight, especially not after the kind of day I'd had. "I have stuff to catch up on, Jace," I informed him, plugging my earphones back in just for show. "See you later. Or not."

He cooperated and backed away from the net, a smile playing on his lips. "You look nice today, by the way."

Pretending like I didn't hear that one either, I continued on my way, already dreaming about crashing into bed and sleeping the next three hours away. Exhaustion already beat behind my eyes.

I shot a quick text to my roommate, asking her to pick up some aspirin from the pharmacy for me on her way back, with a little heart emoji at the end because she was a sucker for them. Then I basically rushed the rest of the way across. Jogged up two flights of stairs. Dodged past the suspicious wasp nest that always triggered my entomophobia. Slipped past the couple in the hallway.

I was this close to flinging my tote to the other end of my room when I noticed my roommate standing there in all her five-five glory, leaning somewhat sexily against the portable whiteboard she used for brainstorming her architecture projects before putting them on paper. It was a little extra, and I'd laughed at her about it several times, but that was classic Kelsey Callahan, the only other elite creature I knew. The first was my sister.

She faked a glare at me, then blew a brown strand away from her face. "It's about time. I was starting to lose my pose."

"How long have you been here, exactly? I just texted you about aspirin."

She gestured behind me. "Close the door and focus on the board."

It was only then that I noticed the elaborate, three-dimensional drawing she'd done in blue marker, and the cluster of calculations at the bottom right, all involving dollars. Money always set off my anxiety, and as expected, I saw a flash of white. "Kelce, what's all this?" I asked in a slight daze as I pushed the door closed behind me.

She turned to the board with a fluorish, beaming and reminding me of a magician's assistant. "Off-campus accomodation."

Almost instantly, my brain short-circuited. "Sorry?"

She repeated her action. "Off-campus accomodation."

"What's wrong with our dorm room?" I asked as I made my way to my side of the room so I could take a seat and process what this meant for me.

"It's on-campus accomodation?"

I fell back onto my bed, and she kicked the side of my right leg.

"Excuse me, I didn't spend all day on this presentation just so you could act disinterested. I found a place just five minutes away from Grace's Place. The rent's a little questionable, but we should do fine since we're splitting. It's a partially furnished two-bed, two-bath, with a gorgeous porcelain kitchen backsplash, and did I mention it's just five minutes away from Grace's Place?"

"Kelsey, look I'm really tired, and I'm pretty sure I'd have dreams about this schizophrenia assignment I was given in 252 if you just let me get some sleep. Remind me about this on a weekend, please."

"I know it's very impromptu—"

I placed an arm over my eyes. "Yeah, no shit."

"—but just think about it. It's our first step towards independence. Nothing says adulthood like paying your own rent."

"I earn thirty dollars for every shift, Kelce. It can't even buy me one jar of shea butter. How do you think I'd be able to afford half of this questionable rent you talked about if I can't even make myself look good without starving?" She stayed quiet. "Plus, I'm not looking forward to adulting."

I expected her to bite back like she usually did, but the room remained still, and after a hot moment with nothing but the sound of the weak ceiling fan rotating over our heads, I moved my arm so I could look at her. She was still in her spot by the whiteboard, but now she had both her hands on her hips. Her lips were pursed, and if I looked closely, I could see the traces of tiredness etched into the skin of her face.

"What?"

She gave a casual shrug. "Nothing." Then she pushed back the third leg of her easel and carried it over to the corner. "I just did a bunch of silly calculations for nothing, which is totally fine."

"Kelsey, come on."

She ignored me and moved the stack of books on her bed to our shared desk, which was currently messed up with the architectural supplies she'd gotten from her Amazon haul two weeks ago.

"I'm tired and broke, okay? I just need sleep right now."

"It's fine," she said, but her tone clearly implied that it wasn't fine.

She'd been having insane mood swings since she broke up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago, and after we got past the stage of eating Ben & Jerry's in our pajamas while streaming her Taylor Swift playlists at midnight, she'd been doing all sorts of things as a kind of coping mechanism. Impulsively adding romance novels to her Barnes & Noble cart, pouncing on their pre-order sales, then going off-campus to the library to get her hands on a recent release. Solving equations into the early hours of the morning. A sudden interest in art frames. Research on the most beautiful places to visit in the summer. One unplanned trip to Salem. Overdosing on caffeine. Contemplating putting superglue in her ex's shoes.

I assumed this was a new addition to the list, and it was a little sad. Plus, the drawing of the apartment building did look nice.

"Why don't we just talk about it later?" I asked.

"Désiré, really. It's fine. I should've left all this till a more convenient time anyway." She dropped her weight into her mattress and stared at her SpongeBob-themed socks for a moment. "Everything just sucks, De."

"Do you need a hug?"

She didn't respond immediately, and I readied myself for her rejection long before it came. "Nah. I'll just go to the student center or something." She grabbed the beige tote bag at the edge of her bed and started shoving stuff inside. Books, mechanical pencils, a sketchbook, even a stray sweater. I could tell she was barely thinking. "Maybe I'll hear about some party I can attend. I need to kiss a pretty boy and rearrange my brain."

"I don't think that's entirely practical."

She pointed a finger in my direction. "You also need to get some action. There are fifty knots in your shoulders, and your worry lines get more pronounced by the day."

"Wow, thanks." The sarcasm wasn't lost on her but she kept on anyway.

"See you during wicked hours."

"Be safe, Kelce. And get me some aspirin on your way back." She offered me a noncommittal shrug as she slid her feet into the pink pair of crocs by her bed. Then she was gone, and I melted into bed with a relieved sigh, half-focused on the sounds of the basketball game in the distance.

It was the only semblance of peace I'd felt in days, so I held onto it until it lulled me into a sleep that smelled like cocoa and honey.