“Jude?”
I jump, not used to hearing my true name on campus. I turn to see Max’s blonde roommate grinning at me from the end of the row. I politely give him a wave.
“I thought that was you,” he says, making his way to the seat next to me. “May I join you?”
My nerves spike, but I try not to let my discomfort show on my face. “Go for it.”
He smiles again, warm and bright. “Cool, thanks. I’ll try not to distract you too much.”
I snort but don’t answer. This isn’t good. I’m not exactly the friendliest classmate, especially in lecture-heavy classes like this. I can’t tolerate distractions, and this guy’s energy screams “former class clown.” I imagine he’ll annoy me at some point, I’llend up snapping at him, and he’ll think I’m a buzzkill or a jerk. Or both.
“So, I have to ask,” he begins, pulling his laptop out of his backpack and switching it on. “I was recently informed that psychology and social work are completely different majors with totally separate requirements. And yet, here you are.”
I roll my eyes. “Intro to Psych fulfills a social science credit for the core curriculum,” I explain. “Plus, I’m required to have at least one one-thousand-level psychology class as part of my field of study.”
“Sure, sure,” the blonde replies, smirking. “So, psychology is required as part of your social work degree?”
“One psychology class, yes.”
“Interesting.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but he casually leans back in his chair. “And what about you, Mr. Undeclared Major? Did you figure that maybe taking a psychology class might help you make a decision?”
“I mean, it does fulfill a social science credit for the core curriculum, does it not?”
“It does.”
“Well, then. I think I’m right where I need to be.”
Before I can answer, the sound of the doors shutting pulls my attention.
“Good morning, class,” the professor announces, and the light chatter across the room quiets. “Welcome to Intro to Psychology. My name is Dr. Blankenship.”
To my surprise, my new neighbor straightens in his seat and turns to face Dr. Blankenship, pulling up a blank document, presumably to take notes. I do the same.
It’s a typical introductory course with a fairly basic syllabus. There are required reading assignments, weekly response papers, lecture reviews every other week, a midterm exam inOctober, and a final exam at the end of the semester. However, there’s one project due at the end of September that gives me pause.
“The Personality Project must be completed with a partner,” Dr. Blankenship explains. “I suggest selecting a partner sooner rather than later to get started. It counts toward fifteen percent of your final grade and is due at the end of next month.”
I stifle a groan. It’s only the second class of the semester, and I already have to partner with a stranger.
Historically, group projects have never been my forte. I’m not a good leader, but I am a bit of a control freak, so it’s hard to find people who don’t mind my perfectionist tendencies. There’s also the issue I often run into: I’m taken advantage of because I can't share the work with those less devoted to perfection, and I end up doing the entire project myself.
I need a partner who doesn’t mind my obsessive nature but won’t take advantage of it. They have to contribute their fair share to the project, even if it means accepting my critical feedback now and then.
It would also help if more were at stake than a mere grade—perhaps a social consequence, such as avoiding conflict with a friend. Or a roommate.
Of course.
I glance cautiously at the blonde beside me. His attentive gaze is fixed on Dr. Blankenship, fingers at the ready on his keyboard. I think back to our conversation last night—before Max made it weird—and remember his quick wit and our fun banter. He’s not a complete idiot or an asshole, and he’s definitely a strong ally.
Oliver.I finally remember his name.
This partnership might work.
Before long, Dr. Blankenship dismisses us, and the lecture hall gradually returns to its default level of noisy chatter.
“So, that doesn’t seem too bad,” Oliver declares, gently shutting his laptop and sliding it back into his backpack. “Except for that group project thing. Those are never fun.”
