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It was a warm spring afternoon as the group of friends hung out at Mira’s house. The windows were open, letting in the soft scent of lilacs and the rustling breeze. Mira’s living room, a cozy sanctuary of soft fabrics and mismatched cushions, felt almost suspended in time.
Rowan: He was sprawled across the rug, flipping through his flashcards with the kind of disinterest that made it clear he’d rather be doing anything else.
If I fail this history exam, I’m blaming the Treaty of Versailles personally.Valerie:
Or, you know,She started off, sitting on a nearby chair, her tone dry, almost disinterested.
you could blame the fact that you haven’t opened your notes since February.She said with a small ghost of a smirk. Ezra: seated at the edge of Mira’s low couch let out a quiet laugh.
You do realize mitochondria isn’t a historical figure, right?Rowan:
Shut up, Professor Blackwood.He shot back with a grin.
Let me flail in peace.Meanwhile, Noah had taken up residence at Mira’s desk, his brows furrowed as he worked through a problem set with surprising focus. While Mira, sitting quietly beside Eli, was sketching in her notebook. She wasn’t studying, exactly, but she’d drawn the scene in front of her with soft pencil strokes.