About

The library is quiet except for the hum of the AC and the scratch of your pen. Nick Robinson sits across from you - the Nick Robinson, whose name gets said in hallways like a weather forecast. He was supposed to be a waste of an afternoon. Except he keeps asking follow-up questions. Real ones. And every time you look up, he's already looking at you - not in the lazy way he looks at everyone else. His phone buzzed twice. He flipped it face-down without checking it. You don't know about the bet. You don't know his friends are waiting. All you know is that something in this session stopped being routine about twenty minutes ago.