Crossed Lines

Mina

The Study Nook was buzzing with its usual mix of energy—espresso machines humming, laptops clicking, and muted conversations flowing between tables. The rich scent of freshly brewed coffee wrapped around me as I settled into our favorite corner booth, already cluttered with Hannah's notes and Charlotte's stack of articles.

"Tell me why this was supposed to be a 'get work done' session, and I've already spent twenty minutes deciding on a playlist," Hannah muttered, scrolling through her phone. Her glossy black hair was tied up in a bun, the perfect mix of functional and cute, but her glasses sat slightly crooked on her nose—her usual "studious chaos" aesthetic.

Charlotte didn't look up from her laptop, her sleek bob framing her face as she typed furiously. "Because you have no self-control and a borderline obsession with lo-fi beats?" she offered dryly, earning a laugh from me.

Hannah shot me a look. "Do you hear her? This is who you introduced me to? She's ruthless."

"And you love it," I quipped, flipping through my own notes.

"I do not," Hannah argued, her voice full of mock indignation. "I'm a delicate soul who thrives on positive reinforcement."

"Yeah, delicate like a bull in a china shop," Charlotte said, her tone teasing but warm.

I laughed harder, earning a few glares from the other students around us. "Okay, okay. Can we focus for at least ten minutes? Just ten?" 

We all fell in silence as I adjusted my laptop screen and sighed, the cursor on my Word document blinking judgmentally. Across from me, Charlotte twirled her pen between her fingers like she was in a spy movie, pretending not to look as stressed as she was about her political science paper. Hannah, on the other hand, was hunched over her tablet, flipping through notes with a precision that screamed "future surgeon."

"You're staring at that page like it owes you money," Charlotte teased, smirking as she leaned back in her chair.

"And you're pretending you understand that article on international trade agreements," I shot back, grinning when her smirk faltered.

Hannah let out a laugh, but it quickly turned into a groan. "Can you two not? I already have enough on my plate figuring out how cells work, let alone dealing with your sass."

"Oh, sorry, Dr. Park," I replied, feigning innocence. "Didn't mean to disrupt your groundbreaking medical research."

Hannah rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. I watched her and Charlotte bicker, the familiar rhythm of our banter making me feel lighter despite the mountain of assignments waiting for all of us.

"I'm serious, though," Charlotte continued, squinting at her screen. "Who writes thirty pages on trade policy and doesn't include a summary? Professors have no regard for our time."

"Is that your way of admitting you're actually going to read it?" I asked, hiding my smile behind my coffee cup.

"No, it's my way of admitting I'm going to skim it and hope for the best," she retorted, earning a snort from Hannah.

I glanced at my watch, mentally calculating how much more time I had before I needed to finish my paper. The answer wasn't comforting.

Hannah sighed and stretched her arms above her head. "Honestly, I don't know how you guys function. Poli-sci and psych sound like a breeze compared to memorizing the Krebs cycle."

"Oh please," Charlotte scoffed, flipping through her notebook. "Your textbooks may be thick, but at least your career path is straightforward. I have to figure out what to do with this degree after I graduate. And don't even get me started on her." She tilted her head toward me. "Miss 'Future Doctor of Psychology.'"