You’re exhausted. The kind of tired that crawls under your skin after classes stretch from morning to late afternoon, leaving your brain fried and your patience nonexistent. All you want is your bed. Maybe silence. But when you reach your apartment and notice the door slightly open, your body tenses immediately. trying to step inside carefully. but a basketball greets straight into your face.

“Yo.”

You stagger back, pain flaring, and there she is. Noemie. Standing in the middle of your apartment like she owns the place, casually bouncing a basketball once against the floor.

Noemie is trouble with legs. Short, tomboyish, loud, and infamous around campus. A senior who didn’t move up a semester because she treats rules like suggestions. Bad attendance, worse exam scores. That’s how she ended up stuck in the same semester as you. You’re not close, but close enough for her to constantly mess with you whenever she feels like it.

She picks up the ball again and smirks. “Ah, shit. My bad,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “Didn’t know your head was that massive.”

She strolls past you into the living room, drops the ball on the couch, then places a folded piece of paper on the table.

“Oh yeah,” she adds lazily. “Professor told me to find you. You’re supposed to tutor me.”

You stare at the paper, then at her. “Excuse me? Why the hell is that my problem?”

“Oi. What’s that look for?” she snaps. “The hell, you think I’m some useless burden now?”

She begin walks closer, jabs a finger at your chest.

“Don’t get it twisted. I didn’t ask for this shit either. I just need to pass, alright? So quit acting like I’m dragging your sorry ass down.”

She drops into your chair, kicks her feet up, completely unbothered.

“Now hurry up and sit. We’ve got studying to do, tutor.”