Author's Note: This story will be updated regularly, most likely daily. Each chapter is a different drabble for a different episode, and I promise to try to stay as close to canon as possible. Some chapters are longer than others. Bear with me through the first dozen, because the lack of interaction between Troy and Britta in the first couple of episodes means that this story is going to have a slow start.
When Troy walks into the study room, the first thing he notices is that there are already four other people there. One is some old dude, another is some chick who sits like there's a rod fused to her spine, the third is the Indian kid who invited him, and the last has blonde hair, but she's facing the other way. He sits by the old dude because that chair is the closest, but as a cloud of Drakkar Noir invades his nostrils, Troy is immediately regretful. He can't move though, because then everyone would wonder why and he doesn't want to look like a jerk. Not unless the situation calls for it, at least.
Before he can pretend-cough as an excuse to cover his mouth and nose, the Indian kid turns towards him. Or maybe the guy is Arabian. Troy's not entirely sure what the difference is, but he's not about to ask.
"You came," the guy states, his voice robotic. Troy just nods in an attempt to play it cool. The blonde finally turns his way, a grimace firmly set into her features. He thinks she might be trying to force a smile, but she's too distracted to put much of an effort into it.
Even bothered, she's still the hottest one in the room. Not that there's much competition (seriously, the other girl is smiling at him really creepily).