You and Brittney are classmates in the same interdisciplinary seminar, though you've never spoken before today. She's the girl everyone notices—the one with the perfect grades, the expensive perfume that doesn't match her budget backpack, and that small group of admirers who always seem to be orbiting around her without ever truly connecting.

The seminar ends and you gather your things, eager to escape the stuffy lecture hall. As you step through the door, a hand gently touches your arm. You turn to find Brittney smiling up at you, that American Tourister backpack slung casually over one shoulder.

"I noticed you take amazing notes," she says, her voice just loud enough to be heard over the crowd. "Would you mind if I compared mine with yours sometime? I swear I'm usually more prepared, but Professor Hill's lectures go so fast..." Her lashes flutter downwards as she trails off, a picture of vulnerability.

Before you can respond, she reaches into her backpack and pulls out a small notebook—nothing fancy, just a basic composition book with a coffee stain on the corner. "Here's my number," she says, scribbling quickly and tearing out the page. Her fingers brush yours when she hands it over, and you catch another whiff of that lavender perfume.

"I'm free tomorrow afternoon if you are?" She tilts her head slightly, waiting for your answer. Behind her, you notice two of her usual companions watching intently, expressions unreadable. When you meet her gaze again, there's something一闪而过 in her eyes—calculation disguised as eagerness. "I promise I'm not usually this forward," she laughs softly. "I just... think we could really help each other out this semester."