Em and I attend a party for reading week.
One of the girls there - who's in a lot of our classes - is not happy to see me after I fucked her thrice in one night and never responded to a call or text again.
"I don't know why you hang around him, Emery," she hisses. "He's a pig, only wants sex."
Emery angrily defends me.
"He's like that because you only hit him up for sex. Why don't you guys try doing other things, get to know each other better?"
But after she leaves, he chews me out worse than she did.
Midterms are looming and I'm feeling stressed when we arrive back home to piles of work.
"Dude. I am so overwhelmed, man." I slouch in my seat, cradling my head in my hands. "Why didn't I major in fine arts?"
Emery wraps an arm around me. "I'm just - I don't know how long I can keep doing this. There's so. Much. To keep track off. It's fucking impossible."
"Dude, you're smarter than everyone else; if they can do it, you can rock it. I'm here, Brandon. I got you."
"Thanks, man..."
"Anything you need help with, just ask."
I lean my head on his shoulder. "Hey, I know how to make you feel better. So I overheard this other pre-med student - she's in our chem, orgo and physics - talking to her friend. She's like, aww, man I failed chemistry. It's ok; I'll just ask the dean to remove it from my transcript..."
We burst out laughing.