When you signed for Harvard you weren't expecting this, not the late nights up studying, not the party animal friends, and certainly not the feelings. Before everything had been bleak, a constant cycle of training until you were practically dead, bu...
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W.C. - 6.1 k ———————————
"I'm going to a party, you want to come with?" Looking up at the older girl through heavy lidded eyes, her party dress clinging tight to her body, you can barely even imagine yourself at another party, especially with classes having started the week prior.
A multitude of open books surround you, all displaying different types of equations and explanations of increasingly complex mathematical concepts. You'd already been at it for an hour, and still you had only solved two or three questions.
It was worse than having to run suicides for an hour straight, pure brutality.
"Do I have a choice?" With your fingers buried deep in your hair and your lips turned down in a frown, Em looks you over for a moment before deciding on her answer, shaking her head softly, uncharacteristically.
"I'm really sorry, I've just got so much work already." Looking back down at the half solved problem, you sigh loudly before writing out another part of the equation, pulling your calculator closer to the edge of the table, the numbered buttons clicking softly under your fingertips.
Going unnoticed by you, Em's shoes thud against the hardwood floor as she makes her way over to where you're sitting at the kitchen table, placed up against the almost kitchen island looking structure that's there instead of a full wall to make the space look more open, her hands taking hold of the sides of your face resulting in your cheeks being smushed together when she makes you look up at her.
"You're not sorry, you hate going to parties." As her sentence comes to an end, she presses a kiss to your forehead before she turns around to leave your apartment, looking back at you to blow you a kiss when she sees you putting your middle finger up at her through the hallway mirror.
But alas, as the door clicks shut behind the older woman, you have to go back to doing the boring work you'd been given by your math teacher, no longer a distraction there for you to blame for not having full focus.
Em was always a nice distraction for you when the work piled up and your usual workaholic self sat for hours upon hours in front of a multitude of books and screens.
At the same time, it was infuriating when she interrupted at the worst times like when you were in the middle of a question or when she inevitably would ask you to do her assignments for her, all while probably eating your food. The girl really is in a league of her own at times.
Rolling your eyes at the thought, it doesn't take long for you to remove all distractions from your surroundings, putting your phone on do not disturb before burying your head in your work once more, numbers and equations floating together in your mind like they have no substance.
There's no preventing the drooping of your eyelids about 3 hours after Em initially asked you if you wanted to party, and there's even less you can do about the way the cool pages of your book feel against your hot cheek, the combination of boredom and sleepiness from the late hour mixing together and creating a very tired striker.
