They moved through the café, debating which pastries to grab for the group. Hope picked up a chocolate croissant. "This is essential fuel," she said dramatically.
James raised a hand, pretending to lecture. "Ah yes, chocolate croissants—the cornerstone of business strategy and physical endurance."
Hope laughed, nudging him lightly. "Don't mock my choices. I need the energy to survive Diane's control tactics."
James chuckled, leaning closer slightly. "Point taken. But remember, hydration is also strategy." He held up two bottles of water, giving her a sly glance.
Hope rolled her eyes, but the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. "Very responsible of you. I'll let it slide this time."
For a few moments, the outside world faded. No calculations, no deadlines, no competition—just two people sharing a moment of lightness amid the chaos of college life.
Hope handed James a paper bag full of snacks for the rest of the group. "I have to admit," she said quietly, "you're… a good person. I didn't expect to feel this way about a classmate so soon."
James looked at her, his gaze softening. "Thanks, Hope. That actually means a lot."
Hope smiled, feeling a rare warmth of connection she hadn't anticipated in her mind she said. "I guess this project isn't just about assignments," she thought, "It's… a chance to see who people really are."
Together, they carried the tray back to the study room, navigating the campus paths with ease. Hope noticed a subtle shift in their dynamic—an ease, a trust, a quiet recognition that they could work well together without pretense or expectation.
And for James, Hope was confident, observant, and refreshingly genuine—a person worth respecting, even admiring, without complications.
As they walked back, neither spoke, but both felt it: something unexpectedly human, simple, and real had formed between them.