Samantha flashed a grin as she handed the test paper forward, some inexplicable competitive spirit driving her actions. It might have been the unusual sensation of waking up back here, but it also had to do with last night—or more specifically, the moment before she bizarrely returned to this place. During an intimate encounter, James Brown had casually texted someone named Lisa in the interim, and Samantha had glimpsed the name, feeling a rising discomfort.

Annoyed, she had snatched James's phone away, tossing it aside. “You can either text or have fun. Choose one,” she demanded.

James had held her gaze for a moment before breaking into a sudden laugh, responding, “You.”

Despite those words, Samantha remained uneasy. Having been friends-with-benefits with James for over a month, she noticed that while she may have been developing feelings, he seemed oblivious and open to anyone and everyone. Lisa, in particular, irked her—everyone knew she’d liked James since high school. Did he know that, and what was their relationship now?

Regret washed over her for not having asked Christie Jones more about James's romantic history before all this. Nevertheless, Samantha set her resolve. For the sake of her future self, she needed to win over the seventeen-year-old James Brown. After all, high school was more than just about academics.

Returning to her seat, she glanced down at the test paper, staring at the impressive score yet unable to muster a smile. Only one question had been left blank, from the final problem, but this was all old territory. These results belonged to her past self, not the 26-year-old her. 

Mr. Jones's teaching style was as concise as ever, skipping unnecessary elaborations. Fortunately, Samantha’s solid foundation allowed her to catch up quickly—muscle memory kicking in with certain concepts. In that moment, she was exceedingly grateful for her diligence back then. One class in, and she had revisited a significant portion of the materials.

As the class ended, the room remained generally quiet, students either revisiting their tests, doing homework, or catching up on sleep. A few engaged in hushed conversation. The mention of upcoming mock exams from Christie Jones resurfaced in Samantha’s thoughts, inducing a slight anxiety.

Samantha vaguely recalled this particular exam phase; it marked her lowest point in senior year, where she had plummeted nearly twenty ranks, sending her into a slump for weeks. Though she hadn’t fared well back then, she couldn’t afford to underperform this time around.

As Mr. Jones hadn’t yet covered the final question, Samantha made a decision. She got up from her seat, approaching the last row with a courteous smile on her face. “I’ve got a question I'd like to discuss with your seatmate. Would you mind switching seats for a moment, Johnson?” she requested, seeking out his name from memory.

The guy—quite tall yet inexplicably blushing—stammered out a consent, flustered by her attention. 

Even seated next to James Brown, it took a while before he acknowledged her presence. Engrossed in a physics problem, his focus never wavered. Samantha pressed gently against his arm. “James,” she coaxed, leaning in softly. “I’m stuck on a question. Could you give me a hand?”

Finally receiving a flicker of recognition, James met her gaze for a few thoughtful seconds before asking, “Which one?”

Samantha smiled. 

Men, career—who says you can’t juggle both?