No Show

Irena didn’t show up for class on Monday. That’s not a good sign. Shit.

You both have a weekly Poli Sci study group in the library on Monday evenings, and you don’t think you’ve ever been more nervous to walk into the library that that evening.

As you walk into the study room your study group has booked, your heart jumps! There she is! Wearing a black tank top, white sports bra, red running shorts and sneakers, and sporting a ponytail, Irena clearly must have just come from a run or the gym.

She sees you, smiles, and greets you just like normal, not as if you had been balls deep in her 72 hours earlier. You don’t know what to think. Is she regretting what you both did? Is she playing some sort of game? Whatever the case, you certainly couldn’t concentrate on Metternich or Bismarck or whoever the fuck you were supposed to be discussing.

About half an hour in, Irena excuses herself, saying she needs to run down to the Library’s café, because she didn’t get a chance to eat before study group.

Two minutes after she leaves, your phone vibrates in your pocket. Checking it, you quickly hide your look of surprise.