November 2nd, Freshman Year
The library's fluorescent lights seemed to mock me, casting an unforgiving glare on my failed exam results. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, hot and relentless, as I stared at the numbers that seemed to dance on the page.
Why couldn't I get it right?
I'd poured my heart and soul into every lecture, every assignment, every study session. But still, I failed.
The weight of disappointment crushed me, making it hard to breathe. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of self-doubt.
That's when I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder.
"Dahlia?" Clyde's voice was soft, concerned, a lifeline in the midst of my despair.
I turned, wiping my nose with my sleeve, and met Clyde's empathetic gaze.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, his eyes scanning my face, drinking in every detail.
I sniffled, feeling a lump form in my throat.
"Just my results," I mumbled, the words barely audible.
Clyde nodded, his expression understanding.
"Let's get out of here," he said, standing up and offering me his hand.
I took it, feeling a spark of electricity as our palms touched.
We walked across campus, the crisp autumn air a welcome respite from the stifling library. Clyde listened intently as I poured out my frustrations, my fears, my doubts.
He didn't offer solutions or advice.
Just listened.
His silence was a balm to my soul, soothing my raw emotions.
We ended up at the arcade, surrounded by neon lights and the hum of video games. Clyde grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Time to forget your troubles," he said.
We played game after game, laughing and competing. For the first time in weeks, I felt carefree.
As we walked out, Clyde turned serious.
"Hey, I want to help," he said.
"Help?" I repeated.
"Tutor you," he clarified.
"You're smart, Dahlia. You just need a little guidance."
My heart swelled.
"Thanks, Clyde," I whispered.
He smiled.
"No problem. We'll get you through this."
And in that moment, I knew.
I wasn't alone.
Clyde was there.
To help me.
To support me.
To make me smile.
As we walked back to campus, the stars twinkling above us, I felt a sense of hope.
Maybe, just maybe, I could overcome my struggles.
With Clyde by my side.
---
November 10th, Freshman Year
I sat beside Clyde in the library, his tutoring sessions proving invaluable. Today, we were reviewing for my makeup test, courtesy of Professor Thompson's kindness.
As Clyde explained a complex concept, his hand mistakenly grazed mine. Electricity sparked through my body, and I felt my heart skip a beat.
I tried to brush it off, focusing on the notes.
But I couldn't shake the sensation.
Clyde didn't seem to notice, his expression intent on the material.
Determined to ace this test, I paid attention with laser-like focus.
"Clyde, can you explain that again?" I asked, my pencil poised over my notebook.
He smiled patiently.
"Think of it like this, Dahlia..."
His words painted a vivid picture in my mind.
I scribbled furious notes, determined to commit every detail to memory.
As we wrapped up our study session, Clyde handed me a sheet of practice problems.
"Try these on your own," he said.
I nodded.
"Got it."
With renewed confidence, I headed to my makeup test.
Professor Thompson smiled warmly.
"Good luck, Dahlia."
I took a deep breath.
This was it.
My chance to prove myself.
I scanned the questions, my mind racing with Clyde's explanations.
The words blurred together, but I saw Clyde's face, his patient smile.
And suddenly, everything clicked.
Or so I thought.
I answered each question with clarity and precision.
Or so I thought.
As I walked out of the exam room, I felt elated.
I'd done it.
Thanks to Clyde.
His tutoring.
His encouragement.
His unwavering support.
But then I saw the results.
Failed.
My heart sank.
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.
Clyde spotted me across campus, his eyes locking onto mine.
"Hey, how'd it go?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"I didn't pass," I mumbled.
Clyde's expression softened.
"Don't worry, Dahlia. We'll try again."
I forced a smile.
"Thanks, Clyde."
But inside, I felt defeated.
Was I good enough?
Would I ever be?
Clyde's hand brushed against mine again.
This time, it wasn't accidental.
He held my hand, his eyes locked on mine.
"You're not alone, Dahlia. We'll get through this together."
My heart swelled.
In that moment.
I realized.
My feelings for Clyde went far beyond gratitude.
But could I truly lean on him?
Or was I just a burden?
---