It gets better.

It turned out paying attention in class was just as effortless as cleaning. The professor was droning on about the Impressionists and Naomi hung on his every word. Monet, Bazille, Cézanne all slotted neatly into her mind without trouble, and she knew she would have no trouble recalling any details she needed from the lecture. For just over an hour, Naomi was a complete sponge for information.

After the lecture, as she packing up, Naomi was accosted by a classmate named Steven. They had studied together a few times and Naomi got a sense that he had a crush on her but was too shy to act on is.

"Hey, Naomi! You look nice today," Steven said. He was visibly struggling not to stare at her cleavage.

"Thanks!" she replied. Normally that sort of objectification would make her feel self-conscious and weird, especially coming from someone she knew. Today, though, she felt only the satisfaction of knowing she was a hot girlfriend for Natalie. She tugged at her shirt slightly.

"I was thinking..." he began, glancing downward. "I think, um, it might be nice to get lunch together sometime. If you're not busy."

Naomi was already calculating outcomes before he finished speaking. She didn't want to make Natalie jealous, of course, but they both knew that she was literally incapable of cheating. Was there any advantage to stringing this guy along a little bit? She didn't want to be seen as a tease or a slut, but Steven hadn't even said the word "date". She didn't want to do any more work around the house and she knew that Natalie wanted her to have an active social life.

"Sure," she said with a genuine smile. "I've got biochem in ten minutes. Noon at the dining hall?"

Biochem passed the same way as Art History, with Naomi's mind effortlessly absorbing and cataloging protein chains as it had European painters. She spotted Steven sitting nervously on the steps of the dining hall. When he sat her he leapt to his feet and approached. They exchanged pleasantries and went inside. Steven decided to get nachos and Naomi hit the salad bar. After paying and finding their seats, he cleared his throat and made a pitiful attempt at small talk by asking if she liked video games.

"Yeah, I do," Naomi said. "But let's cut to the chase. I'm gay and I have a girlfriend."

His eyes went wide and he held up his hands in protest. "Whoa, whoa, that wasn't-"

"You don't have to lie," Naomi interrupted with a reassuring hand on his forearm. "It doesn't bother me. I'm flattered! I just wanted to put my cards on the table."

Naomi was discovering that without a thousand competing motivations and urges, she was much more direct. It seemed to make Steven uncomfortable, so she added a calculated dash of sweetness to her voice.

"I do want to be your friend, though. I like you, and I want your advice."

Steven's bewildered panic was softened slightly by perplexity. "My advice? With what?"

Naomi sighed. She knew that she would need a way to talk about her newfound state of mind without sounding like a brainwashed ****. This was as good a trial run as any.

"My girlfriend Natalie. Lately I've just... I've been really into her, but I'm worried I'm coming on too strong. You seem like a level-headed guy. If I seem like I'm being weird or clingy, can you tell me?"

"How would I know?" he asked. "I've never even met your girlfriend."

"That's the point," Naomi told him. "You have no context for our relationship. I want an outsider's perspective. Maybe we can hang out like this more often."

Steven was silent, processing this word proposal. His eyes kept flicking downward before returning to meet hers. Naomi removed her blazer and leaned forward to give him a better angle.

"Listen, Steven, can I be honest with you?"

He nodded tensely. "I know you like how I look. No, no, don't deny it, it's fine! This isn't some weird mind game or trap. I dressed this way to look hot and your feedback has been appreciated."

He licked his lips nervously and began to apologize again when she cut him off. "Please, Steven, we're two mature adults here. I'm giving you permission. You can ogle me all you want. I'll admit that I used to hate being stared at, but I've become less self-conscious about my body. Here, let's see if this helps."

She pulled a binder out of her backpack and held it in front of her face, blocking their eye contact. "Now you can get as many eyefuls as you want without getting busted. Think of it as my way of saying thank you for your input."

"Naomi, are you ok?" Steven asked seriously. "I think you might be having some kind of mental health episode..."

Naomi stopped paying attention when she realized it was already 1pm. The conversation had petered out anyway and this guy needed time to think about it. She abruptly put her binder away and stood.

"It's not a crisis," she told him matter-of-factly. "I like you, and I want to be your friend, and I want your help with this. I have to go, but consider it."

She grabbed her backpack and empty salad bowl and walked away, adding a little extra motion to her hips. She didn't have to turn around to know exactly where Steven's gaze was.