Other Side

30 | California Dreamin'

A haunting sense of déjà vu followed Talia all week.

She could never escape it on the first day of classes; perhaps because her body was returning to the same place it had been one, two, or three months prior, but her brain still fell into the lure of a never-ending break.

Releasing a small breath of frustration, she shrugged off her leather jacket, leaving her in just a white short-sleeve, which earned a pointed glare from her roommate and partner-in-accounting-hell, Neela.

"You getting hot flashes or something? You're usually a 'jackets 'til seventy degrees' kind of person, Talia."

"Three weeks in New England have definitely fucked with my head." For the last ten minutes, their feet had moved as if bricks lined the soles of their white tennis shoes, cutting it far too close to the start of their last class of the day: Intermediate Accounting II. "Are you ready for another semester of hell?"

Neela released a groan from the back of her throat, the sound blending in with the babel of voices from students escaping the classes before theirs. "Staring at balance sheets makes me miss O-chem, and that's saying a lot, given that this is coming from an ex-premed."

"Maybe it's not too late to switch back," Talia joked, as she pulled open the door for both of them. "I heard med schools drool over applicants with the weirdest majors."

"Too bad I've already sold my soul to Goldman Sachs." A spiritless puff of air left her lips as she tugged a hand through her shoulder-length black hair, one of her many intricate silver rings getting stuck in a lock. Mumbling something about the practicality of shaved heads, she yanked her hand out and asked the golden question. "How long until the fat salary no longer outweighs the ungodly hours? I'm tired of seeing negatives in my bank account, Tals."

"You could always join the dark side and recruit for consulting next year," she joked, nudging her arm with her elbow. "Unless mansplaining and sunrise emails get you going, of course."

"I literally could not tell you what consultants do, and I attended ten different info sessions sophomore year."

"That makes two of us."

They loitered near the entrance to the small auditorium for a good two minutes, until they realized they were the only ones still reluctant to head inside. A good thirty heads poked up as they squeezed themselves down a half-occupied row, surrounded by the accounting and finance majors Talia avoided like the plague—one much more so than the others.

Those blue-green eyes followed her all the way to her seat, until they only had the back of her head to take in. Talia sank into the worn-down cushion, willing herself to think about anything other than the fact Logan Summers sat exactly two feet behind her. Neela flickered her black-lined eyes over her surly expression, eyebrows meeting in confusion, until Logan opened his goddamn mouth.

"Hey, Talia," he said, tapping her shoulder. "I hope your winter break was nice."

"It was great," she shot back, turning her head around for a millisecond before going back to staring at the empty podium. "Hope yours was, as well." Talia hoped her clipped tone could've gotten the point across without resorting to more pettish comebacks, but he took her response as an excuse to lean over the empty seat to her right, mussed-up brown hair invading her peripheral vision.

"Can I sit here?"

Without waiting for an answer, a stocky student athlete threw himself down on the seat next to her, backpack striking the side of Logan's misplaced head.

"Okay, class, apologies for the two-minute delay." A petite brunette whirred by the projector and set her purse down on the front table. She tilted her head up, brown eyes sweeping across the room from behind her cat-eye glasses. "Awesome, I definitely printed enough copies of the syllabus."