[15] Lawrence genes

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"there's a steadiness within your arms

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"there's a steadiness within your arms."

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I put my pencil down and look at my finished notes next to the flowers my mom got me; snowdrops, my favourite.

I check the time, 12:39, and groan. I feel like I've been working for way longer. I think I woke up at around 7:00 to catch up on assignments and tests and I can't help but already feel exhausted. 

This isn't new for me or anything close to rare. I do this, all the time. Wake up early, go to bed late, overwork myself throughout. Everyone says I need to stop, that I'm going to burn myself out.

Honestly, I don't think it's a problem. I get good grades, I'm on top of my work, and hello; academic validation. I mean sure it has me crying all the time, and missing out on plans with the girls, but I'm fine.

Another hour or so goes by, filled with studying the same material over and over again. It's mind numbing, I won't deny that. But I think I find peace in that, the sense of familiarity and safety.

"C'mon, Dell, we're getting you out of here," Harper barges into my room.

Beth takes the pencil from my hand and Jemma closes my binder.

"No guys, not tonight, I'm working," I protest.

Harper just laughs at me, "How long have you been studying today?"

I choose not to answer but Jemma does for me, "Since 7, I think."

Harper just shoots me a stern look, "You have been working for more than enough time, Delly. Let's go."

I turn in my chair and look at my friends.

Harper's long red hair is up in a French braid and she's wearing a chunky sweater paired with loose fitting jeans.

Jemma is in a light blue cardigan and her blonde locks are just barely curled.

I admire Beth's perfect dark complexion. I swear she's never had a pimple in her life, so unfair. She's in a hoodie and joggers which means she just got back from soccer.

Aspen has her blonde curls flowing and her body is swallowed whole by a white cable knit she probably made.

"Don't do that," Jemma reads my thoughts.

"Do what?" I play dumb.

"Start comparing yourself to us. You're perfect, honey," Aspen finishes her thoughts.

God my friends know me too well.

"Not comparing, admiring" I wink at the 4 girls in front of me, not liking the seriousness of this conversation.

I hate talking about my feelings.

"What are you doing here?" I address their wanted, but random presence.

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