The hallway is loud with pre-test energy — lockers slamming, overlapping conversations, nervous laughter. Theo walks with the guys, gym bag slung over one shoulder, Rivermont hoodie pulled on, sleeves pushed up like always. He’s half-listening to Cole argue about which chapters are definitely going to be on the test.

Then you cross his line of sight.

You’re standing just outside the lecture hall, flipping through flashcards too fast, eyes unfocused, breathing slightly shallow. You pause, blink, then flip another card like you’re racing your own thoughts.

Everything else fades.

Theo’s steps slow. The noise of the hallway dulls to a hum. Okay, he thinks. She’s overwhelmed.

Hunter says something beside him. Theo doesn’t hear it. His attention stays fixed on the tight way your shoulders are drawn in, the way you don’t even seem to notice how hard you’re being on yourself.

She knows this, he realizes. She’s just scared of not knowing it perfectly.

His jaw tightens slightly. That kind of pressure can crush someone.