My fingers move automatically, and the cascade stops. I finally look up.
Jay Garcia stands there with his signature messenger bagand earnest smile. Same tousled black hair, same Radiohead t-shirt he's worn every Thursday since freshman year. My stomach does a complicated twist.
“You just saved three hours of work.” I manage to breathe. “I forgot to set a break condition.”
“Rookie mistake, Renner.” He's grinning. “The girl who solved the Moretti conjecture for her freshman final forgot a break condition?”
“You remember that?”
“Everyone remembers that. Prof still talks about it. Says you're the brightest student he's had in adecade.” Jay slides into the chair across from me without invitation—that easy familiarity our study group always had. “Which raises the question, where've you been?”
“Just busy.” The lie sits heavy on my tongue. “Different schedule this semester.”
“Right.” He draws out the word, and I accidentally knock my pen off the desk reaching for my water bottle. It rolls toward him, and we both reach for it at the same time, nearly bumping heads.
“Sorry, I'm—sorry.” I pull back too fast, almost tipping my chair.
“Still graceful as ever.” But he says it warmly, like my clumsiness is endearing instead of embarrassing. “Sarah thinks you transferred. Mike's convinced you got recruited by the NSA.”
“The NSA wouldn't want me. I can't even write a proper story arc.” The admission slips out before I can stop it.
“You're struggling with something?” He looks genuinely shocked. “Piper Renner doesn't struggle. She just... solves things.”
“Yeah, well, turns out Creative Writing is a little more complicated apparently.” I minimize my code before he can see what I’m doing. “Professor Long says my stories read like instruction manuals.”
“Harsh.”
“Sort of accurate. I tried to use a flowchart for character development.”
Jay laughs—not at me, but like he's delighted. “Of course, you did. Remember when you tried to optimize the campus coffee shop queue with graph theory?”
“It would have worked if people had just followed the optimal path?—”
“But people don't follow optimal paths. That's what makes theminteresting.” He's leaning forward now, and I notice he has new glasses. They make him look older, more serious. “We miss you, you know. Group's not the same without our debugging queen.”
I force a laugh. “I'm sure you're managing.”
“Harper's been trying to fill your spot, but she doesn't have your patience for recursive loops.”
The name hits like ice water. Harper. In my study group. In my spot. Of course.
Jay must see something in my face because he quickly adds, “She'snot—I mean,nobodycould replace you. You know that, right? Just last month when Jonah’s entire final project crashed? He literally said 'We need Piper. She'd know what to do.'“
There's something in his voice, a weight to the words that makes me look up. He's leaning forward slightly, brown eyes serious behind his glasses. For a second, I think maybe?—
“Anyway,” he continues, running a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that's kind of adorable. “We still meet on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Same room. You should come back.”
“Maybe next semester.” Another lie. We both know it.
He shifts in his seat, opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it again. “Piper, would you maybe want to—I mean, there's thisnew Korean place that opened, and I know you like kimchi fried rice, so I thought maybe?—”
“I should go.” I'm already packing up, shoving my laptop into my bag with shaking hands. My charger gets tangled in my headphones, and I spend thirty seconds trying to separate them while Jay watches. “Professor Long wants to see me.”
“At 3 AM?”
“I mean—tomorrow. In the morning. First thing.” My face burns.
“Oh.” He deflates slightly. “Yeah, okay. But if you ever want to hang out, or need help with anything, or just want to get coffee—” He stops, restarts. “You know I'm TAing for Machine Learning, right? If you need any?—”
