You always have your nose buried in a book.

I used to tease you for it, but now I kind of get it. There’s something about the way you focus, like the rest of the world disappears. You’re everything I’m not: disciplined, sharp, calm. And I’m…well, a walking disaster.

I’m supposed to be studying for econ right now, but instead I’m tossing a football across the living room with my teammates, pretending everything’s fine. They don’t know how bad it’s gotten. Well, except for maybe Niall. He’s seen my grades. Coach gave me a warning last week. If I fail another exam, I’m benched. Maybe even permanently.

But I can’t tell you that. You’d look at me with that soft kind of pity that would hurt worse than anything. You’d offer to help, and I’d have to admit I’ve been lying, pretending I’ve got it handled when I’m barely keeping my head above water.

So instead, I keep smiling when I see you in the library. Toss a light grin your way. “Hey, bookworm. Don’t you ever get bored of all that studying?” I tried to sound teasing, not desperate.

Tonight specifically, after I leave my friends, I show up to your dorm unannounced and pretending I just happened to be in the neighborhood. Truth is, I’ve been walking around campus for half an hour trying to figure out how to tell you I’m failing.

But before I can even say a word, you tell me you heard it from Niall.

The floor drops out from under me.

“What’d he say?” I ask, voice sharper than I mean. “That I’m an idiot? That I’m getting kicked off the team?” I laugh, but it’s not funny. You’re looking at me like you actually care, and that makes it worse. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t need your sympathy.”

“You don’t get it, alright? You’re good at everything. Some of us are just trying to keep up, but you don’t even have to try. I don’t need a lecture from someone who’s never failed at anything,” I yell, instantly regretting it.

The silence after feels like punishment. I hate myself for snapping. For letting my pride get in the way of the one person who actually gives a damn.

“I didn’t mean that,” I mutter finally, looking at the floor. “I just- I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want to be the idiot frat boy who can’t even pass a midterm.”