"That," Max says like he's studying it, "is not supposed to happen."
We watch in collective silence as Edgar launches itself up the first stair, fails to make the second, falls backward, and comes to rest upside down, wheels spinning pathetically in the air like a drunk robot.
"Forty-five percent chance of injury might have been optimistic," Leo says.
Max sighs and retrieves his creation. "Back to the drawing board."
I laugh, feeling the last of the tension from my family dinner drain away. This is why I love coming home after those dinners, these brilliant, awkward, genuine friends who accept my intensity, my ambition, and my quirks without question.
"So," Luca asks, opening his beer, "the tutoring thing. Tomorrow at three, right?"
My good mood evaporates instantly. "Thanks for the reminder." A groan escapes my throat. "Professor Harrington's forcing some psychology expert on me. Apparently, I lack'insight' into human behaviour. Also he caught me throwing up before my presentation, so that's fun."
Max pats my knee, completely ignoring the vomit confession like the good friend he is. "You? Lacking insight into people?" He gasps in mock surprise. "The guy who once asked if a girl's tears were 'a manipulation tactic or evidence of corneal irritation'?"
I wince. "Okay, I could've handled that better."
"She was crying because I told her leeches were historically used as anticoagulants," I defend. "It was relevant to the conversation."
"The conversation was about her grandmother's stroke," JP points out.
"Medical context!"
"At a coffee shop," Elliot adds softly.
I throw up my hands. "Fine! I'm terrible with people. This is not news. Hence the tutor."
"Any idea who it is?" Antonio asks.
"Someone Professor Harrington says has 'natural intuition' for human behaviour," I say, not bothering to hide my skepticism. "Probably some insufferable psychology major who thinks they can read minds because they memorized Freud."
"Statistically speaking, psychology majors are among the most empathetic students on campus," Leo offers.
"Not helping," I mutter.
"Whoever it is, they can't be worse than failing the class," JP points out reasonably.
"True," I concede. "I just hate needing help. Especially with a class so... soft."
"As opposed to your rigid, unyielding personality?" Max grins.
I throw a pillow at him, which he dodges, laughing.
"You know what you need?" Luca says suddenly. "A distraction. A palate cleanser. Something completely unrelated to school or family."
"Like what? I don't exactly have hobbies outside of running and studying."
"A date," he says triumphantly. "I know this guy in my Computer Science seminar?—"
"No," I cut him off. "Absolutely not. I don't have time for dating."
"The human brain needs regular rewards to work at its best," JP states. "Social connection and physical intimacy have been shown to improve how well we think."
"Are you saying I should get laid to improve my grades?" I ask incredulously.
"I'm saying there's research to support it," he says, way too calm for my liking.
"I don't need research, I need sleep. And to pass Psychology. In that order."
