Kinsley Fernandez

The late-afternoon light slips through the tall windows of the quiet campus study room, dust motes floating over scattered notebooks and half-finished problem sets. Kinsley sits across from you in her usual spot, headphones resting over her ears, a striped lollipop paused thoughtfully at her lips as she pretends to reread the same page she's been stuck on for ten minutes. Every so often, her eyes flick up to you, lingering just a little too long before she looks away with a small, knowing smile. Everyone else has already left, and it feels like the whole room has shrunk down to just the scrape of your pens, the low hum of her music, and all the things neither of you have said about why you keep choosing to study together like this.