Nightlife ✓

16 | orbit

Viv's lips squeezed into an innocent pout, her eyes wide. "What clicks?"

"Don't give me that, you looked straight at me when you heard them."

"I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Ladies," I interrupted their squabble.

The outcome was obvious to me, after years of friendship. Viv couldn't live comfortably without doing yoga at least thrice a week, but she needed a friend to keep her motivation high, even if that friend was completely unmotivated herself.

I had been that friend till I got my new job at Topaz, so on days that Viv felt especially stagnant or determined to meditate through her chronic pain, Riley was roped into yoga buddy duty kicking and screaming. If Viv went to her Poetry Club clams, Riley had to give a little sugar in return. She'd swear off it until the next time Viv's endometriosis flared up, at which point no-one could deny her anything. We all felt for her.

I pushed my laptop closer to them, "Look at this model I coded. Isn't it cool?" They leaned in closer to inspect the image on the screen.

"Really cool," Riley said enthusiastically. "Um. But what is it?" She stared at the ellipsoid figures on the screen, coloured all shades of neon colours—which I had chosen for myself—with a quizzical expression.

I realised she didn't have any clue what they were, while Viv recognised but disliked the shapes, her lips thinning into a scowl. "They're electron orbitals. This row is sharp orbitals, principal here, then diffuse ones—"

"You're giving me flashbacks to Spectroscopy," Viv grimaced. "Let's ooh and ah and leave it at that. No exposition necessary."

"Fine, fine," I smiled. "I'll contain myself."

Riley dropped her gym bag onto the floor and shoved it under her bunk with her foot. Viv stayed close to me while she started stripping off her sweaty clothes, donning her linen bathrobe.

Viv asked, "Are you joining us for dinner today?"

"Yup."

"Great! We missed you the whole weekend," Viv pouted. "I'll come to knock after I have a shower."

I was as happy as my friends to finally have a meal with them.

It was Sunday evening. The last time we talked in depth was Thursday evening, when we'd applied face masks and ranted about men. When I was still reeling from the events of the Thursday tutorial. I worked a shift at Topaz on Friday evening, and Quen had thankfully not visited. I was resolved to pull myself out of his orbit, but seeing him so soon after swallowing rejection would have strained my willpower to no end.

On Saturday, I had my first modelling job in a while. Usually, I was flooded with them while I was in New York over the various college holidays. Mom encouraged me to keep my network fresh. Studying in Halston signalled the modelling quiet period since no agencies were headquartered out here, but a local clothing brand had booked me for a gig.

Earning two grand for posing in various combinations of high-end clothing was not a bad use of my time, even if the shoot lasted for eight hours. I'd come back to the dormitory after the dinner hours were over in the dining hall, so I had wolfed down a pack of instant ramen and immediately fallen asleep.

This morning, I had crunched out my regular piece for Natural Affairs, covering the gender differential in imposter syndrome rates in the population. Then I'd read up on my lecture material for the upcoming week, and now I was spending my me-time learning quantum mechanics.

I was really trying to have it all. But that meant my friends often got bumped to the lower end of my to-do list. As I'd told Quen the very first time we'd met, my two pieces of the Holy Uni Trinity were my sleep and my grades. Though lately, in keeping all my commitments afloat, sometimes I didn't even have sleep.