Professor Wan waved his hand like he was swatting a fly: "The speech represents the school. The performance represents our Business Department. No conflict. Both hands, both strong. Go on, get ready."
He was already picking his reading glasses back up and reaching for the next document: "I still have work to finish up. Come by for a meal another day — my cooking is genuinely not worse than Claire's."
Ethan looked at this man — completely composed at his desk, but privately just as fired up as ever — and smiled helplessly.
No getting out of this one.
"Alright, Professor. I'll leave you to it." He picked up the half basket of cherries, turned, and walked out of the office.
It's fine. One time on stage or two times — not much difference.
He talked himself into it on the way down the stairs. Besides, right now he was basically the poster student for NYU Stern's incoming class. The role wasn't wrong for him.
He had just reached the stairwell landing when a clear voice called out from behind, urgent and bright.
"Ethan! Wait!"
He stopped and turned.
A girl was jogging over from the direction of the faculty advisor's office — it was Ashley, the class arts committee rep for Business Admin Class Two.
Hair in a neat ponytail, a few strands damp at her forehead, notebook in hand, clearly just walking out of an advisor meeting. Her face had the specific expression of someone who had just found exactly the person they needed.
"Finally!" Ashley stopped in front of him, caught her breath. Her eyes were big and eager. "Ethan, the advisor just handed down an assignment. For the school anniversary celebration in a few days, every class needs to put something together for the stage. I went back and forth on it with the advisor, thought it through every direction..."
She paused, then put on a smile that was equal parts sly and desperate, pressed her palms together in a pleading gesture: "And I kept coming back to you. It has to be you. Really. Please — just do one performance, represent our class on stage. Please!"
Ethan: "..."
He looked at Ashley's pleading eyes, then glanced down at the half basket of cherries Professor Wan had just loaded him up with, and felt a third weight quietly settle onto his forehead.
School-wide speech from the president. Department-level performance from Professor Wan. And now the class arts rep had personally hunted him down.
He opened his mouth, started to form a decline, but looked at Ashley's expression — the one that said "I am not leaving until you say yes" — and thought about Professor Wan's request, and the president's call, and everything just quietly collapsed into one long resigned exhale.
Fine.
Two performances is two. Three is just one more.
Too many things at once stops feeling heavy after a certain point.
And at the end of the day, it would be his face up there.
Doesn't matter.
Ethan nodded slowly, carrying his basket of cherries and whatever symbolic burden they had come to represent: "Alright."
...
Back in the classroom.
Ethan returned to his usual seat at an easy pace.
But when he walked in he noticed someone he didn't recognize sitting next to where he usually sat.
"Hi!" A girl named Chloe greeted him the moment she saw him coming, clearly thrilled to potentially be sitting next to him. But Ethan glanced at her, looked around the room, spotted Nora sitting in a corner further back, and turned and walked that way.
Chloe's smile froze.
She had specifically swapped seats with Nora today just to sit near Ethan. And he had walked straight past her toward Nora anyway.
She watched him go with wide eyes, then drifted back to sit beside Nora, completely baffled.
Ethan hadn't been sitting there because he liked that seat. He had been sitting there because of Nora.
Why?
Was what people had been saying lately actually true? Did Ethan actually have a thing for... plain-looking people?
The 208 crew had settled in together nearby.
Marcus kept glancing over at Chloe, who was dressed flashy: "She's something."
Derek nodded: "Sure, but clearly not Ethan's type."
Kevin sighed: "Kind of like that file you download that turns out to be something completely different from what was advertised... Anyway. New personal goal: figure out how to get Chloe's attention."
Derek looked at him: "Don't you have a girlfriend?"
Kevin stared back, internally thinking: Is this guy really this straightforward? Homegrown flowers are never as interesting as wildflowers.
...
The end-of-class bell rang and the room immediately filled with the noise of bags zipping and people talking.
Ethan and his roommates threw arms around each other on the way to the bathroom, and on the way back cut through the campus convenience store.
Ethan grabbed a grilled sausage, scanned the drinks section, and casually picked up a small carton of whole milk.
Back in the classroom, he spotted that familiar figure immediately.
Nora was buried in her textbook, the surrounding noise completely irrelevant to her. She was always like this — a quiet patch of something growing undisturbed in a corner.
Ethan nudged the milk carton, still cold from the fridge, up next to her open book.
"Drink some milk." Not loud. But it reached her.
Malnutrition means calcium deficiency. She was still young — if she didn't start now it would be harder to fix later.
"I don't drink milk..." Her hands came up to wave it off. "Ethan, thank you but—"
Ethan didn't bother with explanations or calling out the obvious excuse. He just leaned forward and pushed the straw through the foil top with a clean click.
Done. He straightened up, tone matter-of-fact: "Straw's in. If you don't drink it you'll have to throw it out. It won't keep past tonight."
He turned and walked away. No lingering. No looking back.
"Ethan." Nora called out on instinct, voice barely there, a hesitation underneath it.
She had wanted to ask about what he meant by helping her. But he was already through the door and gone.
She looked at the carton sitting there with the straw in it. Then at the empty doorway. And stayed quiet for a long moment.
The classroom emptied out slowly around her. Eventually she reached over and picked up the milk, the cold spreading through her fingertips.
She lowered her head and started drinking in small careful sips.
The sweet milky taste filled her mouth. Something warm. And underneath it, something else she didn't have a word for.
...
Afternoon dismissal.
Nora followed the crowd out of the building.
The moment she stepped outside she saw the familiar black Audi.
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