By the time Finals season actually hits, the calm I'd been riding on collapses like a cheap lawn chair.
There are highlighters in my hair. My phone has fifteen unread messages from our study group. I've had exactly four hours of sleep in two days, and I'm 90% sure my English teacher is trying to gaslight us with her cryptic essay prompts.
Camila walks into the library and drops a giant coffee in front of me like she's some caffeine-bearing angel. "Drink this before your soul leaves your body."
I blink up at her. "You're my favorite person today."
"Today?" She slides into the seat across from me. "Bitch, I'm your favorite person every day."
She's not wrong.
We spend the next few hours surrounded by whispering students, flipped flashcards, and the occasional muffled groan of academic defeat. I almost forget that a whole other life waits for me outside these books—until my phone buzzes with a message from Alex.
Alex:You surviving or should I come rescue you with snacks and affection?
I smile at my screen. Camila peers over and rolls her eyes playfully. "Disgusting. I hope you both get locked in a solitary confinement room one day."
"Love that for us."
After study group, Camila convinces me to stop by her place again because apparently my stress levels make her anxious. Her sister's home too, perched on the kitchen counter, sipping tea like she owns the place.
"I remember finals," she says. "That was when I thought I was going to be a lawyer. Now I do marketing for a skincare brand and haven't worn a blazer in four years."
Camila and I look at each other.
"Relatable," I say. "I wanted to be a paleontologist when I was eight."
"You thought the word sounded cool," Camila adds.
"It did sound cool."
Her sister grins. "You'll figure it out. Most people are just faking it anyway."
We talk about everything and nothing for a while. It's the first time in days I'm not actively spiraling.
"So, Alex?" her sister says casually, like she's just remembered he exists. "How's that going?"
I glance at Camila, who immediately leans in like she's front row at a concert.
I shrug. "It's good. Like, really good. But sometimes I still freak out. Like I don't know how to be in something real. Or what I'm allowed to ask for."
Camila nudges me. "That's normal. And annoying. But normal."
Her sister nods. "You're not meant to know how to do it all at once. Just show up. Try. Listen. Be honest. That's the work."
I sink into the couch cushions. "Sounds simple. Still feels terrifying."
"Yeah, love does that. But it's worth it."
When I get home that night, Alex is in the kitchen making instant noodles in a hoodie that I'm 95% sure is mine.
"You stole my hoodie," I say, dropping my bag.
"You left it on the floor. That's basically an invitation."
I walk over, lean against the counter, and wrap my arms around his waist from behind. He hums, letting his head fall back against my shoulder.
"I missed you today," I say into his neck.
"I missed you too." He turns around in my arms, his hands finding my hips. "I almost brought you a care package, but I figured you'd be buried in flashcards and tears."
"Accurate."
He lifts my chin. "You okay?"
I nod. "Getting there."
And maybe that's enough right now.