Three hours earlier…The living room was unusually quiet.
A television sat dark against the wall, its screen reflecting the dim overhead light like a black mirror nobody wanted to look into.
The only sounds came from the slow ticking of the clock above the fireplace, the occasional turning of a page, and the faint hum of the refrigerator two rooms away.
Carter sat sprawled across the couch, with a book in his hands.
In front of him was a coffee table covered completely with physics textbooks, loose worksheets, half of them crumpled up; Professor Hale’s practice questions; Maya’s handwritten notes, and flashcards with formulas scribbled across both sides.
He rubbed a weary hand down his face before reading the same paragraph for what must have been the fifth time.
“…Conservation of momentum…”
He frowned, squinting at the page like it might rearrange itself into something that made sense if he glared hard enough.
“I swear this sentence changes every time I read it.”
He set the notebook down and pressed hands into his eyes.
“Or maybe I’m the one changing. Slowly. Into an idiot.”
Footsteps echoed from the kitchen.
A few seconds later, Ethan walked into the living room carrying a glass of water in one hand and a packet of electrolyte powder in the other.
Without a word, he emptied the packet into the glass, stirred it with a spoon, and placed it on the coffee table in front of Carter.
“There.”
Carter looked up, “…What’s this?”
“Hydration.”
“I’m studying, not running a marathon.”
Ethan folded his arms.
“Your brain still needs water. It’s mostly water. You’d know that if you paid attention in bio.”
“Didn’t know you suddenly became a doctor.”
“I didn’t.”
“So?”
“I just got tired of hearing you complain about headaches every time you actually study. It’s like clockwork. Twenty minutes in, and suddenly you’re groaning like you’re dying.”
Ethan glanced around the room, taking in the wreckage of paper and pens with something between amusement and mild horror, before looking back at Carter.
“You know…”
“What?”
“Why are you studying down here?” Visit g.com for the full chapter.
Carter looked.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve got a perfectly good bedroom upstairs. Bed, desk, door that closes. Actual privacy.”
“I know.”
“So why are you sitting on the couch, buried in worksheets, looking like you’re preparing to survive a natural disaster?”
Carter leaned back, letting his head rest against the cushions with a long exhale.
“Because if I study upstairs…”
He pointed toward the ceiling, index finger raised as if he were testifying in court.
“…I’ll end up asleep in about twenty minutes. The bed’s right there. It’s basically gravitational pull at that point. I sit down to ‘review notes’ and wake up three hours later with a highlighter stuck to my face.”
Ethan laughed, “Fair.”
“We’ve got a physics exam in a couple of days.”
“I know.”
“I can’t fail.”
“You especially can’t fail.”
Carter shot him a look.
“Thanks for the confidence.”
“I’m being realistic. There’s a difference.”
“Feels the same from where I’m sitting, by the way. Why aren’t you studying?”
Ethan blinked,”…Do you seriously not remember?”
“Remember what?”
“My grades.”
Carter frowned, “What about them?”
Ethan smiled proudly, straightening up like he was about to accept an award.
“I’m in the top fifteen students in a class of roughly eighty people.”
He paused dramatically, letting the silence stretch just long enough to be irritating.
“And do you know who’s sitting comfortably in last place?”
“Fuck you, Ethan,” Said Carter
“It’s Josh”
Ethan walks off and heads upstairs before saying, “Don’t worry, you’re number 79”
Without warning, Carter grabbed the nearest book and threw it at him.
Ethan barely ducked in time, the book sailing over his shoulder.
It smacked into the wall instead, knocking a framed photo slightly crooked.
“Violence isn’t going to improve your GPA!” Ethan shouted, then laughed his way to his room
A few seconds later, the house went quiet again, just the clock, the fridge, and Carter muttering something uncomplimentary under his breath as he settled back into the couch.
Then: Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Three sharp, deliberate raps, the kind that meant business.
Carter looked toward the front door, pen freezing halfway to his mouth.
“…Were you expecting someone?” Carter shouted
“No,” Ethan answered from upstairs, muffled through a closed door.
Dexter yelled from his room,
“If it’s pizza, Let me know!”
“Whatever, man”
Carter shook his head before setting his notebook aside and pushing himself off the couch, joints cracking slightly from having been folded up for the better part of two hours.
He shuffled toward the front door, still holding the pen.
The moment he pulled it open…
He froze.
Standing on the porch was Katie.
She wore a fitted black dress that ended just above her knees, paired with white sneakers that made her look effortlessly stylish.
It was as if she had dressed up for something important but changed her mind at the last moment.
Her short, curly hair framed her face, and the porch light created a soft halo around it.
Carter blinked, processing her presence like his brain needed a second to reboot.
“…Katie?”
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, unimpressed by the greeting.
“…Vance.”