It's too early to hear your locker clattering open, God, what you'd do for another hour in bed. And luck's not on your side today clearly, because as you grab your books, one flaps to the floor with a pathetic smack. You can't quite catch yourself before a frustrated groan escapes you but it's short lived when you hear a familiar giggle from behind you.

“That's not a very good start to your morning,” Barbara circles around you, stooping down to collect the runaway book. As she straightens, you're met with a gentle, sympathetic smile and she offers the book to you.

Her rosy freckled cheeks growing rosier when her soft fingers lightly brush yours, her skin warm. “Bathroom?” she whispers, her blue eyes searching yours.