"Are you alright?" I ask Grant as we sit cross-legged on my bed.

It's been a whole day since we found out Hannah lied. I invited Grant back to my dorm after a lecture we had earlier today to keep him company, though to be honest, he is reacting better than I would've if our situations were flipped.

With an indifferent shrug, he replies, "You know. I'm dealing with it."

We settle into a silence. It's as if I can feel his pain more than him, as he runs a hand through his hair indifferently - he must be putting on a brave face. For some reason, I feel so guilty that this happened. Of course it's not my fault, but he sounded so happy with Hannah. Why would she do something like this and lie?

"Do you wanna go get ice cream from the canteen downstairs?" I propose optimistically, the sound of dessert numbing my anger at Hannah.

A nod and ten minutes later, we're seated in the canteen, our tubs of ice cream sitting in front of us. The ice cream sold in this canteen is the kind that's so cheap that there are still stubborn chunks of ice that remain embedded in the dessert.

"I can't believe she'd do that," I repeat for the zillionth time, defeating the purpose of coming here as a distraction from this drama, "I thought the feeling was mutual between you two."

Grant shrugs. He's been quiet this entire time.

"It'll be alright. Get an explanation out of her, you deserve at least that. Look," I point out as Martha-Minced-Meat and her croonies strut into the canteen, fake hair, boobs, and all, "there she is now."

Hannah trails in after the group, sitting with them on their table as they giggle loudly and chew their gum obnoxiously, talking about whatever fascinates their pea-sized brains.

"Let's go, we're getting an answer out of her whether you like it or not," I announce, grabbing his hand, abandoning my dodgy ice cream, and starting to stand up.

Grant quickly pulls me back down with a violent shake of his head, "No, Quorra. I'm fine. We're over now anyway."

"Wait, what? When did you break up with her?" I ask, unable to stop the feeling of being left out of the loop even though I'm not in this relationship.

A look of dread covers his face, "I don't want to talk about it, Quorra. It's over, alright? I should've known this wasn't gonna work..."

I sense a dual meaning behind his words and the suspicious look in his eye, but the ache in my chest is enough for me to disregard it. Poor guy.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll move on when you're ready to, all the girls are chasing after you, eh?" I grin, trying to lift the mood with a nudge.

He breathes out a dry laugh, "Not all of them."

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"P...p....popcorn?" I attempt as Professor Hartley sighs heavily.

"Plosive," he reveals.

I give him a flat look, "How was I supposed to know that?"

We've gone right back to basics with this English course. Apparently my lack of prior knowledge is 'damaging my ability to comprehend at university-level difficulty'. Whatever that means.

"It's a plosive sound, Miss Neversea. And the effect?" he coaxes, gesturing for me to continue as the look of confusion on my face just deepens.

"Yeah, this isn't going anywhere," I break the news as he sighs and leans back against the wall next to his bed, arms crossed.

I close the booklet (which I've skipped and bullshitted my way through half of now) and fling my pen towards the desk blindly, heaving a sigh, "I'm doomed to be a dumb shit," I declare, not surprising myself.

I fall back onto my bed, defeated. With all the time us two have spent cooped up in this room, I've had no choice but to feel more comfortable around him. Otherwise, I would be swallowed whole by the gaping abyss of awkwardness by now. With this new found comfort, it appears I am losing control over what words leave my mouth.

"I might have to start a swear jar for you, Miss Neversea," Professor Hartley looks at me condescendingly, "Profanities are a bad habit of yours."

"And of every other teenager," I point out honestly with a shrug.

We're interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. I barely hear it and flit my narrowed eyes to Professor Hartley to confirm that there was a knock. I get up and wander towards the door, wishing we had peepholes as I pull it open with a buzzing noise.

As soon as I catch a glimpse of the person standing behind the door, I keep the door propped open wih one foot and shift my weight to one foot, crossing my arms.

"What do you want, Hannah?" I spit out, loathing the upset look on her face as she looks at me nervously with emerald eyes, "You aren't allowed in the teachers' dorms."

I feel Professor behind me, his body radiating heat. His front presses against me for a split second as he reaches around me to peer behind the door, intrigued.

I look up and behind me with a shrug as he greets her, "Hello, Miss Klein. Why are you here? Students, save for Quorra, aren't allowed on this floor."

Resisting the urge to snap my fingers and hum a 'damn right', I turn my gaze steely, "If you are here regarding Grant, you should be down there on his floor apologising. You'll only get a slap out of me."

I can't help it. My extreme care for my friends and inherent violent nature is really a bad combination.

"Miss Neversea," I hear Professor Hartley mutter in warning as I ignore him.

"I can't go down there," she mumbles, strangely timid, "He can't know I've been up here. I just don't want any more people judging me."

"Judging you for what? Being a liar? If so, it's a fair judgement," I retort, embracing my inner savage.

A strang of curly ginger hair falls to frame her petite face, "Um, n-no. I just wanted to let you know that I didn't lie. I didn't say I was sick a-and I was really shocked when you approached me yesterday and accused me doing that. I've only ever met Grant once or twice, I swear. I hardly recognised him the other day."

Confusion and mild anger swirls in my head, "What?" I narrow my eyes at her, the words not entering my stubborn skull, "But you're dating."

She swiftly looks down, "I'm not meant to tell you any of this, but I just didn't want you judging me like all the other students already do since I hang out with Martha-May and her friend group."

The current discussion too baffling for me to handle, I ask the question burning in my mind, "Why do you hang out with them? You aren't anything like them. You don't smack gum, giggle, squeal, have your boobs hanging out, or talk anything like those weirdos."

I hear Professor Hartley sigh and walk back into the room behind me.

Hannah sighs, as if I've melted away the rest of her resolve, "I'm Jesse's twin sister. She's friends with Martha-May and when she got involved with her, I got caught up in the current. I've never tried to break away, I know it won't end well though."

"Wait, so why are you dating Grant if you've hardly ever met? Did he not ask you out? And did he not break up with you recently?"

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As we enter the elevator and press our respective floor buttons, Grant rubs the back of his neck, "I, uh, want you to meet someone tomorrow."

I almost disregard those words as if they came out of my own mouth.

"What? Who?" I ask, nudging him playfully as his gaze flits from place to place indefinitely.

Please be another love interest...

The elevator opens at his floor as he answers, "Her name is Hannah. I asked her out the other day and she surprisingly said yes."

Phew! Thank god.

"Oh," I grin as he steps out on his floor, "Is she the girl you wanted to ask out that one time?"

He seems to stumble over his words, "Y-yeah. So I'll see you around?"

I smile, "Sure, see you."

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I'm completed and utterly confused as Hannah looks at me wih the same expression, "What? No. We're broken up? I didn't even really know we were dating. Martha just told me a while ago that I'm meant to pretend that I'm in a relationship with this guy called Grant."

I look down at the ground, trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces.

Abruptly flinging the door open, I grab her wrist and head for the staircase, my mind a dizzying concoction of thoughts. They were never dating? She hardly knows him? What on earth? I need answers.

A sound of shock escapes Hannah as she stumbles to keep up, "Wait, wait! Quorra, I can't go down there. I'm not meant to tell you or anyone any of this. She'll have to give it back! Please, stop!"

I pause at the staircase, glancing behind me, "Give what back?"

A worried look clouds over her eyes as I repeat myself, "Give what back, Hannah?"

"The money."

What on...

I continue speed walking, tugging Hannah along behind me as she drags her feet to try and slow me down, "Quorra, please! They'll kill me!"

It's an exaggeration but for some reason, I don't doubt that Martha-Miaow wouldn't hesitate to rip through Hannah with her kitty claws.

"You'll hang out with me then, forget those jackasses, I clearly need a new friend anyway," I mutter the last part under my breath as we reach Grant's floor as I pull Hannah even faster behind me to get to his door.

I let go of Hannah's wrist as we arrive as she nervously casts her gaze downwards. Once I catch my breath, I rap my knuckles against the door curtly, still fuming.

"Coming!" Grant's muffled voice calls.

After a few seconds of rummaging, the door clicks open and I force my way inside, pushing him back with a flat palm and a, "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Wide eyed and as shocked as a child with their finger in an electrical socket, he is rendered speechless. He spots Hannah behind me, who edges into the room hesitantly.

"W-what? Hannah, what are you doing here?" he stumbles over his words as I pin him down with a poisonous glare.

"You told me you asked her out and you guys really liked each other. You told me you two went to that crappy party the other night. You told me she said she was sick and couldn't make it to dinner with us. Grant, you told me you broke up. This girl barely knows what you look like! Give me answers now, or I'm done with you! What the fuck is going on? Why would you do this?" I exclaim, patience worn down to a thread.

I don't even care that students take second glances in the hallway, murmuring and probably preparing to spread rumours.

Grant is completely caught off guard, "Quorra what? I didn't break up with her, Hannah what did you tell her?"

He yanks her towards him and into his side, shooting me a sudden grin even though I can see the sweat trickle down his forehead in beads, "See? All good? Yes, Han?"

Hannah freezes in places and looks at me, desperate for help. I gape at Grant, caught in a cobweb of pure, unadulterated disbelief.

"You told me, dickhead! What is going on?!" I pull her towards me and away from him, practically snarling my words out now.

He panicks further, plans foiled, "I-I... I... We..."

It's clear he can't form a single sentence.

"And you paid Martha-Whatever-The-Fuck to set you up with Hannah? How much? Actually, I don't even want to know. I don't know why you'd do this. I don't even know if I'm angry or confused! Tell me what's going on right now, or I'm just going to leave," I threaten.

A statue, he racks his brain for excuses. I force myself to stay, to be reasonable, but I can't.

"Quorra, wait! Please!"

And I'm gone.

●（=｀～'=） ●

What do you guys think? Is she overreacting? I'm really not sure. I know I wouldn't react like that but Quorra is nothing like me most of the time so I can't offer a comparison.

On one hand she shouldn't be upset because she isn't romantically involved with him or his love life, but on the other he lied to her and then lied again when she confronted him. And on top of that, she still has no idea why.

Naive girl.

I had this written a few days ago but decided to wait before posting xD SORRY NOT SORRY

Salutations,
Agent Spud 🥔