Chemistry

You stare at the chemistry textbook, rubbing your forehead in frustration, a sheet full of various crossed out equations crumpled in your hand. Why the chem prof decided to start off the semester with quantum is beyond you - literally, you can’t figure this stuff out.

Sure, the photoelectric effect more or less makes sense to you, but then the Schrodinger equation comes in and then the differential equations involved go way above your head. How do you solve this problem? Something crosses your mind, and you start scribbling down a set-up, but a minute later, it’s apparent that what you’ve tried doesn’t work again. You drop your pencil in frustration. The guy sitting across from you, Arthur, smirks and goes back to reading whatever he was reading. You stand up. You need to clear your mind.

Right then, you see Christina come into the lounge, talking with Charmaine about something. You wave a hand, getting their attention.

“Spare me from this chemistry please? I’m wasting away my youth over here,” you say.

“Ouch, that looks rough. Take a break and play?” Christina says, heading to the ping pong table. You perk up and follow her over.

“Rough? Not as rough as the treatment you’re about to get,” you say all cockily, but secretly, you’re feeling a little nervous as you head over to the ping pong table. You barely beat her the last time, and you doubt you’ll get so lucky this time around.

The serve comes with some hard spin that makes your return shot land awkwardly on the table. With a high and clear shot open to her, Christina smashes the ball, and your deflection causes the ball to fly wide across the lounge, hitting some poor soul in the head. He looks up from his computer, gives you an angry glare and the finger, and keeps working on what looks like a computer science project.

“You’re getting that ball, ‘cause you hit it,” Christina says, but you refuse.

“You’re closer to it,” you say. “Why won't you? Are you scared of handling some balls?”

“Grow a pair of your own,” Christina snorts, though she heads off to pick the ball up.

The game proceeds quickly - she’s clearly still a better player than you, though you manage to not completely destroyed in the process. Before long, the game’s at match point, and you’re down four or five. Not as bad as before, but still… the odds don’t look good.

“This is what you get for talking shit,” Christina says, firing off another impressive serve. You place it deep, and she responds in kind, the two of you setting up a long rally.

“Fuck you,” she yells as you play the ball onto the side edge, causing the ball to fly off to the side and beyond her reach.

“Not yet, you’ve still got to pick up my ball first,” you retort.

“Ah fuck it, I’m too lazy. Let’s just call it a tie,” Christina says, dropping the paddle on the table. “I’m going to head up to my room, pregame for the frat party tonight. Want to come with?”

What are your plans for the rest of the night?

Christina +5
Charmaine +2
Arthur +1