Slumping so low in their seat they could easily slide out of it if they really tried, Cya covered their broiling face with a hand. “Oh my gods.”
“Right,” the professor said, glancing Cya’s way. “Apologies, Cya.”
Since they wanted nothing more than to melt into the floor and die, they wordlessly waved off the apology.
To Dex, she said, “Now, Mr. Triever, wokeness aside, what was so important that you felt the need to interrupt my class?”
“Oh, you actually answered my question,” Dex said with an easy smile before winking at Cya. “Cya. Dope name.”
In response, Cya shook their rattle at him, but instead of being scared, the Lupyn snickered, tail swishing back and forth against his calf.
As Professor Myls passed out the practice exams, she continued outlining the study guides available in the online syllabus, and slowly but surely, the mortified blush leaked out of Cya’s cheeks. They ignored Dex completely as they filled out the practice test.
To their surprise—and annoyance—Dex was one of the first ones to finish. Cya was barely halfway through when they caught the Lupyn flipping over his packet and setting his pencil aside. He drummed a discordant rhythm on his desk as he looked around, eventually catching Cya staring at him. He grinned, and they turned away immediately, refocusing on their own exam.
It was no easy feat. Not only was Dex’s fidgeting distracting, but Cya had never been good at math. They excelled at nearly every subject in school, except for mathematics. For some reason, numbers just didn’t make sense to them. They understood biology, chemical reactions, grammar and syntax, and foreign languages. Music, poetry, and even art came easily.
But numbers? Algorithms and calculations and formulas? They all resided in a black hole in Cya’s brain that left them frozen in panic, terrified that others would witness them choking.
They barely even finished the practice exam before Professor Myls called the class to order and started going through the answers. Silently fuming, Cya watched Dex check off his correct answers, one after another, as theycovertly marked their own answers wrong. How in the deities was this absolute himbo of a man so good at math?
In an even worse temper now, Cya fought to pay attention as the professor took questions and went over a few of the problems, marking the places they had made mistakes in their own work. They felt Dex’s gaze on them but refused to look at him. They couldn’t bear seeing his smugness or, worse, his pity. Not when he was, against all logic and reason, some sort of mathematical prodigy or some bullshit.
“So, uh, math’s not your thing, huh?” Dex whispered as the class drew to a close, and Cya hissed wordlessly at him as they violently shoved their practice exam into their bag and out of sight. “Hey, no shade. I’m not good at lots of stuff. Math’s probably the only subject that comes easy for me.”
“Congratulations,” they said sarcastically.
“Uh, thanks, I guess.” Dex scratched the back of his neck. “But, like, what I meant is that it’s fine if math’s not your strong suit."
“I’m fine with math,” they lied as they slipped their laptop into their bag to join their practice exam.
“You marked a lot of answers wrong,” he said, and their tail rattled of its own accord, betraying their annoyance. “I could help, you know? I’m a—”
Unable to swallow it, Cya barked a laugh. “I can’t imagine a scenario where I would ever need your help with anything.”
“Whoa, that was hella bitchy,” Dex said, and they reared back in shock.
He wasn’t wrong. It had been bitchy. But no one had ever called them out on it before.
“Excuse me?” they demanded, defenses rising.
“You’re excused,” he said with far too much pep. “I figured you didn’t mean to be bitchy, which is why I said something. Self-awareness is important, you know?”
Glowering at him, Cya drummed their fingers on the desk and remained silent, waiting for him to catch on to their annoyance. He didn’t. He grinned cheekily at them for nearly a full minute before he said, “Anyway—”
“For fuck’s sake!”
They had never been more relieved to end a class than they were right now as Professor Myls bid them all a good evening. Surging out of their seat, they made to rush from the room, but the professor called their name before they could escape.
“Cya, Dex, a word?”
“For sure, Prof,” Dex said as he hooked his backpack over one shoulder.
Grudgingly, Cya slunk toward the professor’s desk, fuming at the injustice of it all.
“Dex, can you wait outside for a minute? I’ll call you back in a bit,” Professor Myls said, and Dex saluted her.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
