Page 18 of Guarded Love

Selene laughs. "You boys. Always competing."

"It's just our way," Knox says, pulling Selene closer. "Everything's a competition. Who can eat the most nachos, who can procrastinate the longest, who can come up with the lamest excuse for not cleaning the bathroom."

"I think Wilder wins that last one consistently and I end up picking up his slack," I say, moving toward the kitchen doorway. "And on that note, I really am going upstairs. Thanks for the nachos."

"Anytime, man," Knox says. "Don't stay up too late stressing over that paper. It's not worth losing sleep over."

Easy for him to say. "Sleep is part of the schedule," I reply, which is true. Eight hours. Non-negotiable if I want to function at practice.

"See? Even his sleep is scheduled," Wilder calls after me, his voice muffled by another mouthful of chips. "The man's a machine!"

I don’t bother responding, instead choosing to take the stairs two at a time to get back to my room faster. Once I’ve shut myself in my room once more, I glance at my dual monitors. Realm of the Unknown still idles on one, its landscape peaceful. The muted streams are still paused. For the paper, I’ll need silence. Or, at most, the instrumental lo-fi playlist I usually reserve for deep thinking and work.

I queue up the lo-fi playlist, click into the blank document, and stare.

Nothing comes. I do manage to write my name and today’s date, but that’s it.

The game flickers in my peripheral vision, but after I’ve written my heading, it’s the only thing still moving besides my cursor. I should start the paper. Ineedto start the paper.

Instead, I sit back and exhale slowly before I turn my attention back to my game.

I’ll try again in five minutes.

Maybe ten.

5

WILLOW

“Your organizational system stresses me out just looking at it.”

I look up to find my friend Ari Lennon standing inches away from me, surveying the mess I’ve surrounded myself with. I like to call it organized chaos, if you will. I shrug, grab a peach ring candy, and toss it into my mouth.

“It’s asystem,” I throw back at her, nudging some books I took out from the library for research purposes with my elbow. Of course it only makes them wobble more. “A very specific, highly personal system.”

Ari snorts. “Right. Personal. Like how your coffee order is personally designed to give the baristas at Brewed Beginnings an aneurysm.” She plucks a stray sticky note off my monitor, squinting at my scrawl. “Is this a reminder to breathe or bleed?”

“Depends on the day,” I mutter, snatching it back and sticking it where it belongs.

She shakes her head before she pulls out a granola bar. “Here.” She presses it into my palm. “Figured you’d forget breakfast. Again.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” I say, already ripping into the wrapper. It’s one of those fancy ones with flax seeds and goji berries, the kind my mom would approve of. Ari knows my fuel preferences lean more toward vending machine chic, but she tries. “And for the record, my coffee order is an art form.”

“It’s a cry for help, Wills.” She settles into the chair beside mine and pulls out her things neatly. She usually keeps her area clean and now is no different. When she’s done setting up, the only things in front of her are a sleek laptop, a notebook, and her pen. Speaking of, even her pen sits at a precise ninety-degree angle. Sometimes I think we were paired as friends by the universe because it has a wicked sense of humor.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say, waving her off before rolling my eyes. I take another bite of the granola bar and realize it’s actually not that bad.

"What's on the docket for you today?" Ari asks, logging into her laptop. "Besides drowning in sticky notes and pretending those library books aren't three days overdue."

"They're not—" I start, then glance at the date stamp. "Shit."

"Told you." She doesn't even look up, but I can hear the smirk in her voice.

"I'm finishing that piece on the student housing scandal. The administration thinks they can just quietly increase rates by fifteen percent for next year and nobody will notice."

"Until Willow Sanchez noticed and put a spotlight on it. Housing Director Phillips is probably having nightmares about you by now."

I grin at that, savoring both the compliment and another bite of granola. "Good. Maybe he'll think twice before trying to sneak that clause about infrastructure improvements into page seventeen of the budget."