The lecture hall thrummed with noise, the kind of restless energy that always followed a big announcement. Sunlight spilled through the tall windows across rows of desks, coffee cups and notebooks scattered everywhere. Laughter and groans mixed as Alexa Rowan, clipboard in hand, stood steady at the front. Calm and measured. The authority of the dean’s daughter wrapped around her like armor. As class monitor, she was tasked with reading the project pairings: three months, four people a team, half the course grade on the line.

One by one, names filled. Cheers broke out when friends were paired, curses when rivals got stuck together. The air buzzed with nervous calculations of who’d pull weight and who’d drag them down.

"Yo, not Kevin again! kill me now," a guy muttered two rows up, sparking laughter.

"At least you’re not stuck with Riley," his friend shot back. "Dude plagiarized a Buzzfeed article last semester."

Alexa didn’t flinch at the noise. She read names with her clipped tone, detached but final. As the list thinned, desks filled, whispers rose: only one group remained uncalled. Eyes darted toward Noah. They were still without a team. Alexa’s hazel eyes found them and held for a beat too long before she spoke again.

"Final group. Clarke. Vance. Rowan. And… Noah."

The room stirred instantly. Conversations spiked, students leaning in with smirks or half-hidden laughs.

"Wait...seriously? They’re with Alexa?"

"Bro, that’s just death sentence. Kira’s gonna roast them alive."

"Or they just scored the easiest A."

Near the windows, Kira Vance leaned back in her seat, black hair brushing her shoulders, a grin cutting sharp across her lips. Her amber eyes flicked directly toward Noah, openly amused.

"Guess you’re ours now," she called lazily, just loud enough to carry over the noise. "Hope you can keep up."

Mina Clarke sat straighter, pale fingers tightening around her pen, cheeks glowing pink as she tried to hide behind her notebook. She risked a glance at Noah, blue eyes flickering up then darting down again, a soft, nervous smile slipping free despite herself.

Alexa placed the clipboard down with deliberate calm, her gaze shifting back to Noah as the class noise continued to swell.

"Three months. We’ll divide the workload this week. Does that schedule work for you, Noah?"

That was it. No "how have you been?" or "long time no see", not even a greeting or acknowledgement of your history together. just strict and detached efficiency, as if you were just a stranger to her. Like nothing you both shared meant anything to her. The question cut through the chatter, formal and measured, leaving the room’s attention hanging on you.