I tilted my head back and drained the last sip of my energy drink, determined to catch every drop. It had already been a long night of studying for my Psychology of Human Behavior midterm, but I wasn’t even halfway through the readings I’d put off for most of the semester. We were being tested on the unit about attraction and sexual behavior, which was apparently much less exciting when half the material involved hormones and neurotransmitters. I’d chosen the class to fulfill my social science requirement, thinking it would be an easy A—but I was dead wrong. A visual arts major like me had no hope of understanding any of it. Luckily, I had my best friend, Noah, to study with.

We were talking through the material at his apartment off campus—I was lying horizontally across the foot of the bed, reading from the textbook, while he sat up against the pillows with his flash cards. As usual, he was much more prepared than I was, ever the type A to my type B. He looked up from his notes as I