Scanning over my short answer entries one last time, I sighed and set down my pen in satisfaction. Done. Finally done.

It had been a terrible week of waiting and re-reviewing in nervous dread of my finals since half of my professors had decided to test as early as possible—the first Monday—and the other half as late as possible—the second Friday. Whoever gave them this choice should reevalue their options.

The bespectacled professor clapped her hands and shouted "time" just as I was glancing up to the clock to check. "Papers on my desk—neatly, Howards—and have a good break, all," Professor Marne shouted into the hall as everyone surged down the stairs, trying to get out of the lecture room as quickly as possible.

"Thank god it's over," Quinn sighed to me slapping her paper down into the messy pile rising on the empty desk. "Let's never talk about it again. Ugh—this class isn't pass-fail either, is it?"

"Nope," I said, giving her a sad smile. "It's okay though—I'm sure you'll pass."

"I'll have to settle for that C," Quinn frowned. "What're you planning this afternoon?"

"Nothing much," I replied, stretching my arms out above me. "Ah, that feels good. You doing something?"

"Not really. I was going to pull the hermit out of his shed for a day," Quinn joked. "I don't think Tim has left his room since last Tuesday when we ate out together."

"Oh dear, I'll call Stacey," I said. "She'll know who's free and who's not. God, I still can't believe that Marne pushed the final off until Friday afternoon—doesn't she realize that no one wants to take finals on a Friday?"

"At least you don't have it tomorrow," Quinn smiled weakly. "Psych finals are tomorrow afternoon. Megan was moaning and groaning all week."

"Saturday afternoon? That's terrible!" I frowned. "I'm going to head home and change first—call you as soon as I get word."

"Sounds good," Quinn grinned, waving as she opened the door to her car. "See you later, Stell."

---

"What are the chances," Karen grinned, spotting the last of the group pull into the parking lot.

"Lucky for us that the tickets didn't sell out too," Tim added as Chad and Stacey hopped out of their car.

"It was her fault," Chad asserted unnecessarily, earning a light whack from Stacey.

"You didn't tell me it was time to leave," Stacey frowned, looking around. "Whoa, everyone's here."

"Yep," Calum smiled, hands tucked into his pockets. "Let's go in now—movie starts at four o'clock sharp."

"Let's buy food first," Quinn reminded, and a rise of giddy childishness rose in the group.

"I haven't had this stuff in forever," Karen exclaimed, examining a package of candy. "Skittles—they're tropical-flavored too!"

"I'll go first!" Chad announced, charging over to the line. "One slushy please. And the largest sized popcorn."

"Let's get the pizza, Hunt," Whitney said, looking at her boyfriend excitedly. "We can share."

"The nachos look nice," Kimberly murmured. Calum gave her a grin before lining up in the growing line.

"Wanna split a pizza?" Quinn asked, pulling out her credit card. "Pepperoni or cheese?"

"Pepperoni today," I decided, looking over the menu. "Let's get some cups for drinks too."

"Someone buy my skittles—I'll go reserve seats in the theater!" Karen shouted before walking away.

"I'll come too!" I shouted, glancing at Quinn. "Get my food for me?"

"Sure thing—I want center back!" Quinn yelled as I caught up to Karen.

"We're here pretty early so I don't think this will be a problem," Karen said, beaming.

"We're fifteen minutes early, Karen," I frowned, seeing another group of teens enter the theater for "Leonidas." "It's Bronte's second lead role, and I'm pretty sure we're not her only fans."

"Gotta have hope, Stell," Karen sang, swinging open the door. "Center back, was it? They better get my skittles, 'cuz I'm not sure if the two of us can reserve all those seats without busting out some karate moves—ten people, right? Wow."

The seats were pretty much all full, with the exception of a few empty ones here and there. The only empty ones were in the front half of the theater—namely the front row.

"Well, at least we can all sit together," Karen joked weakly, leading the way over to the front of the theater. "I don't think I've ever sat this close to a screen..."

"I don't think I've ever touched one either," I sighed, examining the not-so-far-away canvas upon which the images were projected on, "But maybe if I trip I will."

"I can trip you if you want," Karen offered in jest, slumping onto a seat. "Now all we have to do is defend these terrible seats."

"I think that's Stacey and Chad at the entrance," I said, waving to the pair. Chad stuffed more popcorn into his mouth as he neared us, keeping the iconic red-white bag away from Stacey as she tried to steal it from him.

"What's with the seats?" he asked, plopping down in the center and relenting the popcorn to his girlfriend. "I thought the point of saving seats was to get the best ones?"

"They were the only ones," I explained with a sigh, sinking down next to Stacey. "Unfortunately we underestimated the seating situation."

"Well something had to go wrong," Stacey grinned, offering me the bag of buttery goodness. "The day was going too well—everyone was free and on-time, and the parking situation was agreeable enough."

"Are you kidding me? I had to wait forever for this kid that refused to get in the car," Karen huffed as Chad waved over the rest of the group. "His poor mother."

"These were the only seats?" Calum asked, sitting down next to me and handing Kimberly her drink.

"Yep," I answered, popping the 'p' and accepting my drink from Quinn. "What'd you get me?"

"Lemonade—with ice," Quinn called, sitting down on the other side of Chad. "You didn't tell me what to get you."

"Yeah, I realized," I laughed, taking a sip. Sweet, sour, cold—but mainly sweet. "So what's this movie about again? Historical fiction, right?"

"Oh. Em. Gee," Stacey said, enunciating each letter as if I'd just insulted her shoe collection. "How can you not know?"

"Stace, calm down. We've all been busy with finals," Karen said, rolling her eyes. "Not that you'd understand."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Stacey said before clearing her throat dramatically. "So 'Leonidas' is the name of the king of Sparta, right? And we all know that Sparta and Athens want to tear each other to pieces. So Bronte plays Gorgo, Leonidas' wife, who's really pretty and—"

"This is going to go on forever," Calum whispered. I turned to give him a conspiratorial grin but stopped short when I realized he wasn't talking to me. He was talking to Kimberly. His girlfriend.

"—so it's mostly warfare but with tons of eye-candy and romance," Stacey continued. "But Bronte's in it, and so is Oliver—and Maras! God, those abs, and his eyes!"

Chad rolled his eyes at his girlfriend as she continued spazzing about the different actors in the film. Spotting me, he offered a sympathetic smile and passed me the bag of popcorn—now half-empty—by reaching behind Stacey.

'Thanks,' I mouthed, taking the bag and settling it on my lap before popping a buttery piece into my mouth.

"There're refills, right?" Calum asked, grinning and stealing some from the red-striped bag. "Cuz it's going to empty out quick if you're going to put it next to me."

"You can always go check," I countered, returning his grin. "And if you do, you can pick up some more while you're at it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Calum laughed, offering Kimberly a handful of popcorn.

"Are you listening?" Stacey demanded, annoyed to find that her audience was nonresponsive to the fascinating intel she was dishing out.

"I am," Karen shouted, grinning, "but would you mind repeating it from the start? I couldn't really hear your from all the way over here!"

Luckily the lights dimmed for the final trailers before Stacey could make her way over to the blonde and throttle her.

---

Sunday night I was bored out of my mind. I'd already enrolled my summer courses—just three: two management, one English. They were adequately spread out so that I could enjoy my summer and get a head start on my senior year all at once. Majoring in Business and minoring in English, I fell on the less busy side when it came to required classes, but I'd stuffed my schedule with bonus classes in Business and English so that I'd be able to easily pursue another major f I felt that it was necessary.

Scrolling absentmindedly through my social media feed, I spotted a photo of Jordan posing with a smiling female classmate. The photo was captioned "Good luck to this Valedictorian on his MCAT!"

My eyes widened in surprise--Jordan was Valedictorian of his class? But then again, he was very smart, and for all of my teasing about him not having to study, it was clear that he had a real passion for working in the medical field. He must have worked hard behind the scenes, playing coy when studying habits were discussed and shared. Like me.

I sent him a text--'You busy, Valedictorian?'--and resumed scrolling through my feed as I waited for a response, liking pictures here and there of Stacey out with Chad or Quinn spazzing about a new design she'd drawn up. Within a few minutes, a reply came.

'Damn it. This is because of Vicky's post, right? I told her specifically NOT to pass that around!'--Sex God

Smiling in amusement, I quickly texted back.

'I would've heard sooner or later--who would've thought the dark-haired playboy would be the smartest of the bunch?'

'To my defense, Vicky almost got it--if she didn't get an 89 in Intro to Biochem'

'Not putting in ur all during freshman year really comes back to bite u, huh?'

'Yeah, not that it matters at this stage. Besides, aren't u the likely candidate for Valedictorian for ur class?'

'Maybe? Dunno--haven't checked in a while. Been caught up with life.'

'Ditto. So I need to go soon--the commencement speech isn't gonna write itself.'

'Hah, good one. How far along are u?'

There was a pause in the exchange of texts.

'I wrote an outline the night before, and all I have to do is write it out.'

'Nerdtalk for "I haven't started yet"'

'Fine. I haven't. I'm working on it now, so ttyl.'

'Text if you need ideas! I heard sharing embarrassing childhood memories is a great way to start off commencement speeches ;)'

'Shut up, Stella.'

I laughed out loud, smiling as I switched back to scrolling through my feed. Graduation. It seemed so close now that I thought about it--so close but so far off. I would be spared the hurry of finding internships and such, having a plan laid out for me the day I'd been born, and I was thankful for that--what would I have done without my mother's connections? Apply for an internship position at some low-tier company and cross my fingers? I wouldn't have to go through the time-consuming act of tailoring resumes and coaching myself for interviews, but that didn't make graduation seem doable--only slightly less scary.

Checking the time, I surmised that I could still to the club and have some fun before sleeping at a slightly unreasonable hour. Picking out a few dresses, I texted the group to let them know that I was heading out--Stacey was already out and about, and Quinn had expressed interest.

Looking over myself in the mirror, I deemed the sleek black dress suitable and slammed the door on my way out.

---

The club scene was hot and heavy, with music slow but steadily thumping in the background. I extracted myself from the dance floor, unsteady on my feet, and walked myself over to the bar to order a cool drink.

"Something cool and sweet," I told the bartender, flashing him a mischievous smile before turning to stare at the dance floor, trying to make out faces in the din. Stacey and Chad were most likely still somewhere on the floor, but Quinn and Tim may have taken off some time ago as it was now quarter til one, I surmised from my phone.

To my defense, it was summer break, or at least what I would have called it back in high school. In Uni, breaks seemed to come when you made them in your schedule—that or not at all, as you always had the option of signing up for another class or joining another club or just socializing with some sorority or fraternity.

Giving the bartender a thankful smile as he slid my drink towards me—a mysterious concoction that was pink and orange but tasted of coconut rum and agave juice—I turned to survey the individuals cooling off at the bar. A tired-looking man in a motorcycle jacket sat a few seats down from me, and a few girls stood near him elbowing each other. The couple in the corner broke apart, the girl storming off and the boy standing and walking over to me.

"Hey Stella Reyes—fancy seeing you here on a Sunday night," the brown-haired boy grinned at me. "Pegged you as a reasonable person, like Jordan."

"Weston de Mattei," I greeted, half-surprised and half-amused. "Did you boot the redhead because of little ol' me, or..."

"Don't give yourself that much credit," Weston smiled, waving at the bartender. "Beer, with ice. But yes, I did want to talk to you. What can I say—I'm naturally drawn to damsels in distress. "

"Is that what I seemed like to you?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes—you were clearly in danger of boredom," Weston joked, flashing me a pearly grin. "I've heard that one can be bored to death, and I can't let someone so attractive go to waste like that."

"Hm," I hummed, taking another sip of my tropical drink. "So what're your plans for the future, graduating and all? Law school, going abroad, internship?"

"Law school," Weston said, grimacing. "'Get ready for the ride of your life—if you can get through the texts first .'"

"You chose your poison," I laughed. Weston gave me a faint smile, taking a swig of his beer. "So what about summer? How're you planning to spend the last big break in your life?"

"Quarter-life crisis right now," he explained, feigning sudden illness. "So much to do, so little time. But gap year, you know? I'm going off on an adventure."

"Alone?"

"With Jordan and company," Weston smiled, looking at his drink pensively. "Speaking of the devil, what's your deal with him?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, confused.

"I mean why do you bother?" Weston asked, giving me an irritated look. "You have options, so why go after my best friend? Why use him as your emotional dumpster?"

"Emotional dumpster?" I echoed, eyebrows scrunching. "I don't follow—how—we're friends!"

"Exactly," Weston said, growing impatient. "Why're you leading him on? It's clear that you're never going to consider him seriously, so why're you giving him hope? Why don't you just fucking tell him that there's no way you'd ever consider him?"

"Weston!" I said, shocked at his outburst. What was he talking about? I'd made it clear to Jordan that I didn't have interest in him romantically—did I give him hope otherwise?

"Sorry," Weston muttered, gulping down the rest of his glass quickly. "Have a good night, Stella. And while you do, think about telling Jordan his chances with you—'cuz the boy's somehow been able to convince himself that they exist."

Weston exited the club quickly, a scowl etched onto his face. Was it true? Did Jordan see me in that way?

How long had he seen me in that way?   

---

Hello lovelies! Sorry about the late update but here it is, with more drama and yumminess, so hope y'all like it!

Cover thanks to the talented @eleni_cherie <3

Vote/comment to let me hear your thoughts! I'll try to respond to everyone if I can :D

Until next Tuesday~

 —Littlewhims