Weekend Friend

00.

I STEER CLEAR of the twenty-four-hour library at Claremont University.

The reason is far from glamorous or even remotely logical, but it's not my fault that something about that four-story brick monstrosity plagues me with anxiety.

Even at a university with 10,000 undergraduate students, I always seem to run into the exact people who I don't want to run into. I also always seem to run into them at the most inconvenient spot in the library—the massive spiral staircase with its aggressively spaced out steps and central location.

There's nowhere to hide and no opportunity to perform adequate surveillance before embarking on the journey up or down the stairs. As a result, I've had to entertain awkward small talk or exchange stiff nods of acknowledgment that leave me feeling socially inept. So in the name of protecting my peace, the only circumstances under which I begrudgingly enter the library are to return books or to endure meetings for group projects in one of the study rooms.

There are plenty of other places to study on campus, of course. I'd discovered a quiet spot with ample natural light halfway through Autumn Quarter—my first at Claremont—and became intensely devoted to it like the creature of habit that I am.

Alternatively, I spend almost every day in an alcove on the third floor of the Claremont Communications Building. It's located in the prolific academic quadrangle, affectionately known as 'the quad.' The building mirrors the Collegiate Gothic style of the surrounding buildings and houses the Department of Journalism on the third floor.

It took me less than a week of studying on CCB3 for me to note that it hosts a regular cast of characters, each with their own designated study spot on the floor. These cast members would never dare to occupy somebody else's seat as it would constitute a violation of territorial integrity and ruin the feng shui.

I like to believe that the CCB3 cast has developed a sense of comradery that's anchored in our shared appreciation for the comfortable chairs, plentiful outlets, and not talking too loud for too long. So you either adapt to the CCB3 environment or leave to study elsewhere.

The first floor is unsurprisingly quiet on a dreary Seattle morning. The cafe adjacent to the entrance isn't open, and the handful of students scattered across the space have their belongings spread out in a way that would only ever fly on the weekends when hunting for a seat isn't a battle royale.

I suspect most students are still in bed nursing hangovers or have decided to brave the rain in the name of having an aesthetically pleasing brunch at one of the many coffee shops located on University Avenue. At least that's what most of my sorority sisters are doing.

My wet trainers squeak aggressively loud on the linoleum floors as I cross the lobby, flashing my cringeworthy student ID to the security guard parked like a centurion at the circulation desk. I nearly wipe out as I stop in front of the elevator bay and consequently whack the call button with a little too much force. The doors closest to me immediately slide open, reinforcing the relative emptiness of the building.

But that's why I enjoy studying on a Sunday morning—I like the quiet that comes with it.

I actually crave the quiet, as it never lingers in the halls of the Kappa Delta sorority house. I also have no choice but to work in silence as I'd discovered on my walk to campus that I'd neglected to charge my AirPods like an amateur.

Just as the mirrored doors start to slide shut behind me, they rocket back open.

I lift my gaze from my phone to see a familiar CCB3 cast member step onto the elevator.

It's Cute Glasses Boy.

This is a nickname, obviously. It lacks imagination, but his handsome features and flattering Ray-Bans are what initially caught my attention during Autumn Quarter. The nickname comes to mind whenever I see him, even after my roommate Parker identified Cute Glasses Boy as Tatum Wolff when we'd sat in the bleachers to watch her love interest's soccer game last quarter.