An hour later,I'm in our apartment bathroom, about to finally wash the diner smell out of my hair when Riya blocks the doorway.
“Absolutely not.”
“I need to shower?—”
“You've been avoiding me all day.” She's in full interrogation mode, arms crossed. “Six texts, Piper.Six. You always respond by the third one to tell me to stop being annoying. Something's wrong.”
“Nothing's wrong.”
“You're a terrible liar.” She follows me into my bedroom. “Is this about Miles? Did he text you? I swear to God?—”
“It's not about Miles.” I collapse on my bed, still in my diner uniform. “It's worse.”
Her face immediately shifts to concern. “What happened?”
“I'm failing a class.”
“Which—wait, what? You don't fail classes. You get A's while sleep-deprived and subsisting entirely on coffee.”
“Creative Writing.” The words taste like shame. “Thirty-two percent.”
Riya sits beside me, processing this. “The storytelling one? The one you said would be easy?”
“Turns out writing about fictional people with fictional feelings requires understandingactualfeelings.” I stare at the ceiling. “Professor Long assigned me a mandatory tutor.”
“Oh, Pipes?—”
“And before you say it doesn't matter, it does.” I sit up, pulling my knees to my chest. “Jenkins has a GPA requirement for the research lab. 3.5 minimum. No exceptions.”
Riya's eyes widen. “Shit. The AI lab?”
“The AI lab that's supposed to be my entire senior year. The one with the supercomputer access and the PhD pipelineandthe published paper opportunity.” My voice cracks. “The one where my dating app could become actual peer-reviewed research instead of just some bitter girl's side project.”
“You're not bitter?—”
“Two hundred people applied, Ry. He picked twelve. I'm the only junior who got in.” I press my palms against my eyes. “Kim Dunn cried when she got rejected, and she has a perfect GPA.”
“Because you're brilliant. Your algorithm work is PhD level—Jenkins said so himself.”
“Yeah, well, apparently I canquantifyhuman emotion but can't write a simple story about it.” I laugh bitterly. “Jenkins wants 'well-rounded scholars.' Technical brilliance isn't enough anymore. You have to score well in a wide range of classes.”
Riya's quiet for a moment. “What about the tutor?”
“Some senior who's supposedly good at 'bridging technical and creative thinking.'” I make air quotes. “I meet them Thursday.”
“So you'll go, you'll learn from them, and you'll pass.”
“It's humiliating. I solve problems that make graduate students cry, but I need help withbasicnarrative?”
“You need help with one thing. One.” Riya's voice goes firm. “And if some tutor is what it takes to keep Jenkins' position, then you're going to smile and let them explain three-act structures or whatever.”
“You think it’ll be that simple?”
“Of course. My best friend got into the most competitive undergrad research position at this university.” She bumps my shoulder. She stands. “She can do anything. So, you're going to shower, we're going to dinner with Declan, and Thursday you're going to meet this tutor and besocharming they'll have you passing in no time.”
“I don't do charming.”
“Then do your version. Awkwardly intense. Whatever.” She heads for the door. “But Piper? Don't let pride cost you your future. Jenkins' lab is everything you've worked for.”
