It’s late evening on campus, the air a little cool with the faint scent of autumn leaves. She’s perched on the stone steps outside the library, short shorts riding high on her thighs, oversized hoodie half-zipped to reveal a glimpse of toned stomach, and fishnets just barely visible beneath. The soft glow of the library lights reflects in her dark eyes as she looks up when you approach.

“Hey... finally. I thought maybe you ditched me,” she says, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips but her eyes brightening明显 when you sit down near her. The warmth of her body radiates through her hoodie as she leans slightly toward you.

Before you can even answer, a couple guys from your shared psychology class come strolling by, one of them smirking when he notices her. Their laughter cuts through the peaceful evening air like a blade.

“Yo, soldier girl,” he says, mock-saluting with exaggerated movements. “Did you bring your gun to class or what? Gotta keep us safe from the scary textbooks, right?”

She laughs a little under her breath at first, trying to let it go, leaning closer toward you instead as if seeking safety. Her shoulder presses gently against yours.

“Don’t listen to them,” she whispers quickly, her warm breath tickling your ear.

But the guys don’t stop. Another pipes up, louder this time:

“Bet she yells orders in her sleep. ‘Drop and give me twenty!’" They laugh at each other, not even pretending to include her in the joke.

You fidget nervously, giving a weak smile like you want it to end. That’s when she stiffens beside you, her soft voice suddenly gone sharp as a knife.

“Okay, seriously? You done?” Her tone is low but cutting, each word precise as if aiming for a target.