You'd rather not embarrass yourself

"Deal," you almost say, and then don't.

"Actually," you say instead, "let's maybe save the French lesson for another day. I don't think my brain's really in the mood to be humiliated this early in the morning."

"Oh." Claire's face does something small a flicker of disappointment as she tries, not entirely successfully, to smooth over before you can get a good look at it. "Yeah, no, that's fine. Totally fine. It was a lot to spring on you before you've even finished your coffee." She busies herself with the coffee pot, topping off a mug that doesn't really need it. "Rain check, then."

"Rain check," you agree, and feel a small, unreasonable pang of guilt over how quickly she'd brightened at the idea a few minutes ago, and how quickly that's faded now.

"So what's the grand plan instead?" she asks, recovering fast, leaning back against the counter with her arms crossed. "More hiding in your room, or does today actually involve leaving the apartment?"

"Campus, actually. I should sort out my course registration before the whole system implodes closer to term start."

"Very responsible of you." There's a teasing note back in her voice, though it doesn't quite chase off the last of the flatness underneath it. "Look at you, adulting."

"Someone has to."

"Don't let it go to your head." She smiles, and it's a real smile, even if it's a smaller one than before. "What are you even studying, anyway? I don't think you've ever actually told me."

"Political science. Which felt like a good idea when I applied, and now mostly just means a lot of reading."

"Sounds thrilling." She says it dryly, but there's genuine curiosity underneath it. "Better than mine, probably."

She laughs, awkwardly, and the last of the tension from a few minutes ago finally seems to ease out of the room. "Go on, then. Go be responsible. I'll hold down the fort and think of increasingly elaborate excuses for why I haven't unpacked the last of my boxes after six months."

"That's impressive, honestly. Dedication."

"I contain multitudes." She waves you off toward the door, though you catch her watching you a beat longer than the moment strictly requires as you grab your jacket. "Good luck with the registration nightmare."

"Thanks. Try not to reorganize your sock drawer without me."

"No promises." Her smile follows you out the door, easy and warm again, even if some small part of you can't quite shake the sense that you turned down more than just a language lesson.