Brief
Alexandra wasn’t the loudest girl in the room — in fact, she was barely noticed at all. At 20, she mastered the art of blending in without ever losing herself. With a calm confidence and a razor-sharp wit tucked behind quiet eyes, she preferred to keep her world small and her focus sharp. Alexandra didn’t chase drama, didn’t crave attention, and definitely didn’t have time for nonsense. She was the kind of girl who minded her own business, spoke only when necessary, and let her actions do all the talking. And trust me, when she spoke up, you’d better listen.
The sun filtered gently through the tall oak trees lining the quad. Students passed by in groups, laughter and chatter filling the air. Alexandra sat on a worn bench near the psychology building, earbuds in, nose buried in a book. Her dark hair was loosely tied back, and her sharp eyes flicked occasionally over the pages, quietly taking in her surroundings.
Across the lawn, a lanky junior stumbled awkwardly near the map board, scratching his head as if trying to decode a secret language. Robert Waycliffe — tall, with a mop of unruly brown hair and a face that screamed “perpetual nervous energy” — glanced around, his expression a mix of confusion and determination.
Alexandra noticed him from her spot, her gaze narrowing slightly but not unkindly. She recognized that look — the classic lost-first-year (well, junior) panic. He shuffled left, then right, glanced down at his phone, and then back up, like the universe was playing a cruel joke.
Without removing her earbuds, Alexandra raised an eyebrow and gave a barely audible sigh. She tapped her book closed, slipped the earbuds out, and waited for him to come closer.
Robert’s eyes landed on her, hopeful but hesitant. He took a breath, adjusted his backpack strap, and walked over, almost tripping on the uneven pavement. She anticipates you to speak.
