To be a physicist, one would have to understand the laws of the universe. To be a musician; flow and rhythm.

To be a lawyer?

The laws of human reasoning. 

Regardless of the fact that this philosophy course was required for her pre-law plans, Tiffany figured she would have taken it anyway. It was more than simply arguing, it was intellectual discussion on the basic concepts of human morals and understanding. One passionate mind against another. Tiffany thrived in this environment. 

She slid smoothly into her seat. A seat facing the door was ideal—a perfect balance between seeing the rest of her recitation group and the professor or TA in charge. A power seat. 

Tiffany, to say the least, was excited. To the untrained eye, there was childish Tiffany, who would bounce in her seat and smile like the sun never set—and there there was this Tiffany, whose smile was coupled with an intimidating glint in her eye and a slight tilt of the head that meant she was always going to win.

She spun her pen in her hand, sizing up her classmates as they filed in. The boy with the dirty running shoes looked like he had just rolled out of bed. The girl that sat diagonally from Tiffany looked like nothing could have brought her more joy than not having to take this course. The girl that just walked through the door five minutes late was—

Tiffany’s breath caught in .

No. Way. 

Jessica, clad in classic skinny jeans and an oversized sweater, topped off with a smart pair of glasses and—

Tiffany ripped her eyes away from her new classmate and dropped them to her notebook.

Oh my god, oh my god, stop staring.

Tiffany was a good person. She really didn’t deserve to have New-Year’s-Eve Jessica in her life again, after she had almost (read: not at all) convinced herself she would never encounter the girl again.

She took a breath.

Tiffany, you need an almost unreal grade in this course to go to law school. Focus.

Was it too much to pray that she had forgotten what Jessica looked like after fifteen days of a complete separation that she had finally come to terms with? Was it too much to hope this wasn’t her?

Was it too much to hope it was?

She faintly heard the professor take a seat at the end of the table, vaguely acknowledged the instruction to have everyone introduce themselves. 

Breathe. 

Focus.

Okay.

Philosophy major, psych major, music, engineering, and—

“Tiffany Hwang, sophomore, pre-law. This course is required for the major, but I also love philosophy and debate. I’m excited to get to know you all!”

And then an undeclared, another undeclared, pre-law, and Tiffany suddenly found herself not caring about the rest because her eyes landed on—

“Jessica Jung.” Tiffany stared. “Econ major.” And Jessica met Tiffany’s gaze for a solid second, causing blaring alarms to ring in her head. If there had been any doubt before, that familiar killer stare dissipated all of them.

Jessica paused. She slowly let her glance fall from Tiffany to some boy a seat over. “Just needed an art distribution credit, to be honest.” 

Tiffany could not pull her eyes away. What were the chances? They were not the same year, they were not in the same major—the bar from New Year’s Eve had not even been in this city. She could not decide if the situation was entirely laughable or if she wanted to be enveloped by the earth instantly.

When she risked another glance back to Jessica, some stupid radio song—lips… this must be what crazy feels like—struck her in that moment, and she decided very rapidly on the latter. 

She grabbed the syllabus that was being offered to her with a little more force than was probably called for, mind a wreck. What was she supposed to do? Greet the girl?

Hey, remember me? Crazy small world we live in, we made out two weeks ago and I haven’t stopped thinking about you.

Disgusting. 

Rolling her eyes, she narrowed her eyes at the syllabus in lieu of wishing to be swallowed by the earth’s crust.

And then she froze.

Final project: group paper. Assigned groups.

Tiffany was a metaphorical millimeter away from dropping the course. She did not trust college students, least of all with her own grades. She did not trust the probably unshowered boy with the untied shoelaces or the tiny kid with the bed hair, and most of all, she did not trust beautiful, apathetic Miss Jessica Jung. Tiffany was a literal meter away from the source of daydreams and nightmares.

“I will be assigning the groups for the final paper next week in recitation, so please be present,” the professor was saying. “I don’t have much for you today besides the syllabus. Any questions?”

Tiffany began to raise her hand.

The professor stared directly at her. "And no choosing partners, we are not middle schoolers who must work with our best friends." There was a pause, and when Tiffany did not lower her hand, the professor continued. "And no, you cannot choose another option for the final to opt out of the paper." The professor stared some more. "This is final." 

Tiffany slowly let her hand drop.

She risked a brief glance at Jessica as she replaced her notebook in her bag, only to be met with a turning profile view of the girl as she moved to leave. 

A sigh accompanied the weight of her bag slinging over her shoulder. This was going to be a long semester.

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A/N: Again, I'm really, really sorry. It's a little unorganized and a little rough around the edges, but so am I. Thanks for sticking around!

Also, I still have no idea how AFF works. Do subscribers get notified when I add chapters like this? Let me know!

Chapter title inspired by Eric Nam's No Comment.