[Caleb is straight] Prof. McGowan is putting hand on the key but she lets him in

Always a struggle to decide between dead sprinting past like the years of sliding home v. trying to look like he isn't fifteen seconds from being late, Caleb turns up the stairs just as Professor Carrie McGowan's hand touches the door. Being 5'11 has serious perks, he thinks, as he cuts across the hall and slides in the door just as she closes it - and either he's a little off balance from the stairs, or she was slowing her push on the handle and he wouldn't have made it otherwise.

Either way, he's not going to turn down a free pass, and he rushes to his seat in the loosely clustered second row as the lock clicks. "Nice of you to join us, Caleb. Traffic?" Her narrow lips are twisted a bit, knowing full well the class has already talked about their commutes and conflicts as part of this environmental biology seminar, but he ducked his head, muttering a negative/apology and pointedly ignoring looking in Francesca's direction as she snickered.

It was hard not to look at her with the generous curves and narrow waist, all poured into yoga pants and cut off by the college pullover that did nothing to hide her how she filled it out. Long reddish brown hair in a messy bun and monogrammed college coffee cup, check, as always - she was a uni legacy through and through, and the first to tell you so. But the look on her face killed anything there today - it was just a little nasty as she glanced back at him over her shoulder. She'd been a pain in the ass ever since the last group paper - yeah, he'd been slow to respond at first, but how was he supposed to know she'd mistyped her OWN email and wasn't getting anything back?

Carrie, as she was known to all who could keep up in class and make it to their desks *on time*, 'hmm'd, rolling her eyes a bit as she nodded to Annie, the TA, who began to pass back their latest (thankfully individual) citations.

Annie was so very quiet, but she smiled at each person or leaned down and pointed at a quick note on the corner of the top page when she gave the papers back. Even though she was only in the second year of the program, Annie was a graduate student who held office hours, graded, and was considered on her way right behind Carrie - if only she'd speak up.

Short green hair was the loudest thing about her, pinned back in spiky pigtails that never stayed up the whole class, and, as she dropped Caleb's paper, her smooth arm brushed his. She startled and smiled a bit in apology before continuing. Tall and very athletic with toned legs and a great ass in skinny jeans and a plain sweater at first, it'd been a huge surprise for the class to hear Annie's soft voice coming from the 6'1" Amazon with green hair as she fought not to shuffle her feet, but the first happy hour had dragged out of her that she'd used that to her advantage - after a certain point, no one had messed with her enough to find out otherwise. At a few inches shorter and built up in the shoulders and legs from baseball and swimming, Caleb couldn't find it in himself to disagree - it did make a [difference.

As Annie sat back down, Carrie took her usual perch on the desk, legs bare below the knee in a prim suit skirt and crossed at the ankle as she leaned back on the desk and put her hands on either side for balance. Didn't seem to notice how this pushed out her chest in the button-down, cleavage just barely visible as she started in dissecting the citations, but probably wouldn't have bothered her if she did. A quick glance at his own paper told him he wasn't in trouble this time, but it was only the start of the final grouped project, and her hair swept neat into a short ponytail low at her neck said she wasn't upset with them. At the moment. You could usually tell.

Actually, for a senior seminar of only seven students, they technically weren't meant to know that much or be doing happy hours with TAs and occasionally the professor, but, after nearly half of them were invited for 'experience' after their very small parts in a research paper spanning much of their college career, the already small class got a helluva lot closer, which made studying easier and competing for grants that much harder. This last project's groups hadn't been announced yet, but it would be obvious but a pain if they picked themselves. It was the last semester as a senior for most of them - the checkout had long since begun.

Even still, it wasn't hard to pick out what might happen. Mark and Amir had quickly figured out they were in another biology class together with Reese within the first few days, the quickest study group to turn fuck buddies that Caleb had ever seen, but not the shortest lasting by far. Mark, short and stocky and bold as he was, was hard to miss, but Amir blended into the crowd - was a wonder they didn't lose him everytime they left campus. Reese, Caleb guessed, had a type between them somehow, but it didn't seem to bother her a bit as she sat in the corner twirling a short lock of silky black hair by her ear idly and Prof. leaned back to hit the keyboard for the overhead projector, lengthening the shadow up her skirt. Caleb, struggling with glancing down (or away, or anywhere), quietly lamented living at home as he (partially) remembered Reese's one time advance. (The range between Amir and Mark included him, he guessed?)

It'd been embarrassing to get brought back to his parents' drunk as he'd been, but it hadn't been as bad as it could've been. Myah had nursed a single drink each time, small calloused hands and warm blue eyes always watching out for every one of them even though she was obviously the smallest and youngest of the group. As a sophomore, Caleb wasn't sure if drinking freaked her out or she just thought she couldn't keep up with the rest of the group and still do crew in the morning, but she'd volunteered quickly as DD then and every time after and even offered her roommate's empty bed that weekend. The thought of her 4AM alarm as coxswain quickly twisted his mouth into an easy but very polite no, even drunk as he was.

Lila, on the other hand, was just the opposite - wasted as she'd been, she was ready to keep going. It was a wonder she made it before the Lock at all with how little she slept, let alone how much she studied. The woman was second generation American, pride of the family, and more than set on proving every inch of it in blood, sweat, and tears, and her short pixie cut, soft body and rounded hips, and loose hoodie stashed in her bag everyday with water bottle, snacks, bandaids, and more were a testament - she was in a rush. Constantly. And ready - For anything.

"Caleb, what do you think?" Shit. He'd not been paying attention worth a damn, but glancing up to the screen, he fortunately could gather what was being discussed. And Carrie, knowing how he studied, looked like she'd known it and called on him just for that reason.