No really, I'm okay. I'm also a great liar.

jacob bakes me a gay lemon cake and i mess up my psychology notes

March 31st arrives sooner than I anticipated.

It's a Thursday, and an indifferent one at that.

Cloudy but no rain; cool but not cold; a little bit foggy but not really humid. I wake up thirty minutes before my alarm goes off, which means I lay in bed with my earbuds in for six songs, then turn my phone off and count down the seconds until 6:45. Soon enough, a soft beeping comes from the little plastic box, initiating a tap on the off button from my still-groggy arm. I promptly roll out of bed. I do my best not to wake Jenna (whose first class is at 9:30), but she sleeps like a rock anyway. Force of habit, I guess.

When I make it into the bathroom, I look in the mirror at my now twenty-two-year-old-self.

I turn on the water for a brief shower, then slip on a hoodie and some yoga pants. Too lazy to do my hair right now, I just pull a beanie over it once it's deemed acceptably damp.

Swinging into the little kitchen area, I quickly brew a pot of coffee. I pour some into my travel mug (one that Rose got me in high school when we skipped class to go to a concert; it rained later that day, and is to this day one of my fondest memories; even more so now that we're friends again) and then leave the rest for the people who will wake up after me.

It's Psychology this morning, so I pull on my sneakers and my backpack and begin the hazardous trek to the science buildings.

On my way there, I run into someone. Full-on speedwalk headlong into another human being.

I stumble back, apologies slipping from my mouth like second nature. And I realize the other human being is Rose, who looks like she's basically still asleep. I grab her shoulder to steady her.

"Regretting taking that morning class?" I ask knowingly, teasing her sleepy demeanor.

Rose's eyes shoot open, no doubt surprised that it's me. She takes a deep breath of the sweet-smelling, dew-drenched morning air.

"Mmhmm," she agrees, tapping her foot absentmindedly against the pavement.

Rose never could keep still.

Her energy (even if it is subconscious) spreads to me, and I start bouncing lightly on my heels.

"Hazel!" she says, as if she's just registered that it's me. "What's today?"

"The thirty-first," I offer. Her eyes widen and she throws her arms around me.

"Happy birthday!" I hug her best, breathing in her familiar scent, pleasantly surprised that she remembered.

Then again, I suppose it's still pretty reasonable. I still know her birthday, after all. Along with her parents' and her dog's.

"I actually have something for you ... but I don't have it with me, you see ... I didn't think I would run into you ..." she trails off, looking a little worried. I glance at my phone, which reads 7:19. I look back up at Rose, who looks significantly less sleepy.

"No," I reassure her, "that's completely fine. I didn't think any other people would be up at this time. I'm really sorry, though, but I gotta go. Class in ten, and I'm only halfway there," I say, before starting back off south.

"Good luck," she wishes me.

I usually try and finish my coffee before I get to class, but it doesn't seem like it's gonna happen today.