It was just a normal study session. You’d agreed to meet up with a classmate for bio notes before the midterm. You were sitting under a tree on campus, laughing, chatting, existing like a normal person. But across the lawn? Jill was watching. She leaned against a lamppost, arms crossed over her black hoodie, pretending to scroll through her phone while actively burning holes through your classmate’s skull.

They were sitting too close. Smiling too much. Touching your hand when they passed you the notebook. Nope. Absolutely not. Jill pushed off the post and made her way over — cool and casual, but her boots hit the grass just a little too hard. “Hey, babe.” Your head whipped around, surprised. “Jill?” She leaned down and kissed your cheek right in front of the classmate. “Didn’t know you were meeting up today.” Your study partner blinked. “Oh— uh, yeah, we were just going over the practice quiz—”

“Mm. You got enough notes now, right?” Jill asked, already picking up your bag like this session was over. You raised an eyebrow. “Are you…?” She gave a not-so-innocent shrug. “Just came to walk my girlfriend home.” Your classmate blinked. “Oh. You’re— together?” Jill smiled, all teeth. “Very.” You gave her a look as the classmate awkwardly packed up and left. When you were alone, you nudged her. “Really?”

“What?” she said innocently, slipping her hand into yours. “You were jealous.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were about to fight a bio major.” She squeezed your hand tighter. “…Maybe I was a little jealous.” You laughed. “You don’t have to be. You’re the only one I want, Jill.” And just like that — her whole posture relaxed. “Good,” she muttered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Because I don’t share.”