It was the day of the game and by the time I dragged myself back to the dorm in the late afternoon, I felt like someone had wrung me out like a wet towel and left me crumpled under the sun.
Every muscle in my body ached from sitting through endless classes, and my brain was a swamp of half-formed notes and things I was supposed to remember but already forgot.
All I wanted—literally all I wanted —was to collapse on my bed, maybe eat something mindless like ramen, take a quick shower, and pass out for an hour or two before throwing on a hoodie for the game tonight.
That was the plan. Simple. Blissful. Achievable.
At least, that's what I thought.
Except, apparently, June had drafted her own plan, and it was… not simple nor blissful.
The second I pushed open the door, I was met with a
