Wendy looked up from the page filled with her writing and set her pen down to take a quick break.

Irene, who was seated across her, had her head on the table and appeared to be snoring lightly. They had been working on the paper since afternoon, each taking turns to complete certain sections.

There had been no significant conversation, only short discussions regarding the project, with Irene staring at her phone half the time. Wendy had long given up any hope of getting an A+ for the assignment. She was exhausted and all she wanted was to complete the report and head home for a good night’s sleep.

It was pitch dark outside the café they were in and Wendy pushed the home button of her iPhone, dismissing a long yawn when the screen lighted up and the numbers 10:44 appeared. They were barely halfway through and the deadline was tomorrow. A sense of dread and urgency washed over her at the realization and she quickly grabbed her pen and got to work again.

Some minutes passed and a waitress soon approached their table. “Hi, we’ll be closing in ten minutes.”

“Oh, no…” Wendy groaned to herself, fingers bunching up her hair as she started to mutter gloomily under her breath about how she was going to end up disappointing her entire family tree were she to screw up the assignment.

The mild disturbance woke the blonde, and she stirred and sat up slowly, stretching her arms and legs that had gone completely stiff from the uncomfortable sleeping posture. Her eyes took in the sight of the stressed-up girl before her, and she asked groggily, her voice thick with sleep, “What is it?”

“We’re doomed!” Wendy exclaimed dramatically like it was the end of the world, pressing her palms flat against her face.

“Doomed?”

“Yes, doomed,” the girl repeated herself, now on the verge of tears. “How are we supposed to finish this by tomorrow? I can’t fail this paper, Irene. If I don’t do well, I’ll--”

“Hey, hey,” the blonde’s voice interrupted her. “Shush and look at me, Wendy.”

The girl clammed up accordingly as her eyes found the other’s stoic ones. It was the first time Irene had addressed her directly.

The continuous eye contact dissipated her anxiety rather quickly, replacing it with a swarm of butterflies that tickled the insides of her tummy and made her forget the seemingly petty issue at hand.

“It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna get this done.”

For some reason, the words sounded so convincing and somewhat soothing coming out of Irene’s mouth that Wendy believed every part of it unquestionably, mumbling a meek “okay” in agreement.

“I live five minutes away from school. Let’s get the rest done at my place.”

It then occurred to Wendy that almost all of Irene’s replies w