Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews and support so far! I appreciate all of your feedback and love. Thanks to Professor Maka and Khaleesimaka for betaing.

The next morning, Soul was awakened by the increasingly familiar, but nonetheless uncomfortable sensation of someone sitting on him. He couldn't see through the sleep in his eyes, and he massaged the inner corners with his thumb and forefinger.

"Makaaaa,' he sleepily mumbled. His voice felt a little strained from all the screaming and begging for his life last night. "Get off of meee."

"GODDAMN SO IT IS TRUE!" Despite the amount of crust sealing them shut, Soul's eyelids pried themselves apart in order to make unfocused eye contact with Blake Barrett. Although Soul was essentially blind without glasses or contact lenses, there was no mistaking that blur of blue. His roommate's face hovered over him, wearing what was certain to be a wide, smug grin. "Dude," Blake said. "You have some 'splainin' to do."

"Fuck off!" Soul wheezed. Blake was much shorter than Soul, but he was five foot and five inches of pure muscle. When his roommate finally rolled off of him and onto the floor, it felt like being freed from the crushing pressure of a bag of bricks.

"I was all cuddled up with Tsubaki when I got this," Blake said, thrusting his smartphone into Soul's face. After he absently reached for his glasses on his nightstand and put them on, Soul screwed up his face and squinted at the phone screen. It was a text conversation between Kid and Blake.

Kidoferson (11:15pm): I have news. Soul might be alright after all. He has a friend over right now!

Kidoferson (11:21pm): Have you heard of a Maka before?

Black*Star (11:21pm): JESUS FUCK

Soul pursed his lips and further scrutinized the texts. "Do you guys…talk about me or something?"

Blake rolled his eyes and snatched his phone out of Soul's hands. "So me and Kid have long, meaningful discussions about your well being. Big whoop, who cares." Soul rose from his bed and stood on unsteady feet. Without speaking to or acknowledging his roommate, he ambled out of his room and towards their shared bathroom. Blake was close on his heels. "The point is," he persisted. "You brought a girl back here. I can't believe you brought a girl back here without talking it through with me first!"

Squeezing a dollop of Crest onto his toothbrush, Soul responded with a noncommittal grunt. "'Snot like I planned on having a guest over," he said before brushing his teeth. No truer words could have described the events of last night.

"And the Palmtop Tiger!" Blake ranted. In the bathroom mirror, Soul exchanged a weary look with his own reflection. If only his brushing was loud enough to dull Blake's voice. "Mad respect, man. Even a god like myself can't crack that tough nut. One time, Red Star hit on her and she pulled his pinky finger all the way back to his wrist. Writes funny cuz of it now." Soul spat and wiped his mouth. That sounded like something Maka would do. If she targeted his fingers instead of his head, his piano career would be over before it even started. Soul would rather be concussed than crippled.

"What was it even like?" Blake asked. "You have to fill me in on the details. Shit, I can't even imagine it. Well I can imagine her screaming like a hyena, but other than that..."

To avoid answering his nosy friend, Soul began the delicate process of putting in his contact lenses. With one damp lens balanced on his fingertip, he leaned towards the mirror. Details. What details could he even tell Blake? Though they never said it out loud, Soul assumed that the parts where Maka tackled him to the ground and threatened to give him a concussion were to be kept on the DL. He sure as hell couldn't reveal the fact that they had enormous crushes on their respective best friends; everyone knew Blake was tragically incapable of keeping secrets. Even so, the fact remained that Soul had no obligation to help Maka. There was no loyalty between them-was there?

Soul gingerly placed his second contact onto his eye and blinked rapidly. As his vision cleared, so did his mind. It didn't matter how well they did or didn't know each other. Betrayal of any kind was uncool, not gonna happen, end of story.

"Well," Soul finally said, leading his roommate out of their cramped bathroom and back into their living room. "Obviously she's kinda intense, but Maka's cool. We had fun."

Blake's hazel eyes searched Soul's face with growing suspicion, then disappointment, then anger. "I can't believe this," he said. "When Tsu and I fucked for the first time, I recapped it to you in such epic detail that everyone on this side of campus sprung a gargantuan boner. And you won't even do the same. You are dead to me. I excommunicate you."

Soul was overcome with a blush so fierce that his face felt like it would sizzle and melt right off his skull. Classic Blake, jumping to conclusions in the worst way. "Just wait a fucking minute," he sputtered. "We didn't-I never said-I didn't sleep with her. There's nothing to recap."

"Oh." Undeterred, Blake waggled his eyebrows. "But something happened."

"No, it didn't."

Now Blake looked like a disappointed parent. "Dude, did you even try?"

"No! We're just friends! Not even, we hung out one time. Could you drop it already?" He stalked off into his room while Blake mumbled his apologies. There were some phrases Soul couldn't stand no matter who said them, and 'Did you even try?' was at the top of the list. It was wrong of him to be so angry, but sometimes it was easier for Soul to be the monster everyone thought he was than the easygoing, likable person he wanted to be.

Soul's first class wasn't until the blissful hour of 11 a.m., and thanks to Blake, he lost an entire hour of sleep. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with the extra time on his hands, and he pondered maybe cleaning his room or dicking around on the internet until his phone vibrated on his nightstand. The message he saw caused him to squint, just in case his contacts were deceiving him.

Maka (8:50): Can we get coffee today sometime? I need to talk to you.

He found Maka alone at a booth in Deathbucks. The tall height of the cold, metal tables and the wide distance between the red leather seats made for an awkward fit, especially for someone as petite as Maka. Sitting in her oversized seat with her arms clasped on the table, she was downright tiny. It wasn't just her size that was startling. With a golden halo framing her sharp green eyes, Maka looked otherworldly, almost as if she was the afterimage of a dream. In front of her were two steaming coffee cups. Measuring a few inches under six feet, Soul was able to slide into the booth without looking like a Keebler elf.

"Morning," Maka said with cheer. He responded with a polite-ish grunt. "I hope you slept okay. I wanted to meet here so I could apologize, about everything. It was one hundred percent an overreaction, and I'm sorry."

She pushed one of the coffee cups towards him-a peace offering. Soul eyed it warily. "Is that decaf?"

"No."

"Apology accepted." Soul lifted the cup to his lips and drank up some bitter, caffeinated goodness. This was just what he needed after Blake's rude wake-up call.

Maka smiled at him a little too broadly for comfort. "Great! Let's start over. We should hang out again."

Soul raised his stark eyebrows. "Uh, okay."

"Tonight, your place. How does that sound? I'll be there at seven."

He could see where this was going, and he placed his coffee cup back on the table. "You can't bribe me with one cup of coffee to let you stalk my roommate."

This made Maka unexpectedly angry, and she nearly lunged at him when she rose from her seat and slapped her hands onto the table. Her face was scarlet. "I'm not a stalker! I just want to be friends!"

"And the fact that you have the mega hots for Kid has nothing to do with that."

She scowled at him and sank back into her seat. The gears in her mind were turning. "Fine," she said with narrowed eyes. "If the gift of my friendship and free beverages aren't enough for you, I have another proposal. We can…" Maka's eyes darted over his shoulder, scanning the room for any secret listeners. Her body language became more minute, discreet, as if the very words she was speaking were blasphemy. "...help each other. You help me with my, uh, problem, and I'll help you with yours."

Now that was an interesting proposal. Soul could hardly speak to Patty without clamming up because they rarely interacted outside of class. Maka was his way in. There was something vaguely conspiratorial about this whole deal, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued by it.

As usual, it was his last shreds of Evans pride that got in the way. "No."

"What?" Clearly, that wasn't what Maka was hoping to hear. Her sharp voice drew some attention around Deathbucks, and to avoid the strange looks, Maka ducked her head and spoke in a heated whisper. "I learned two things last night: One, you're all teeth with no bite. And two, we're both in the same hopeless, sexually frustrated boat. Face it, you're never gonna get a chance to scatter rose petals or light candles for Patty without a little help from me."

He grit his teeth and tried to ignore the heat spreading across his cheeks. If she thought throwing Baby-Making Tunes #6 in his face was going to sway him, she was sorely mistaken. "If that's all you took away from last night, then you can forget it," Soul said, crossing his arms. "Actually, I don't even need your help. I can ask someone out without her twerpy little friend giving me dumb relationship advice."

"YoucallmeatwerpagainandI'llkickthelivingshitoutofyoudoyouunderstand?" It was worth it to see Maka stew with restrained hatred, even if they did draw even more suspicious glares from surrounding Deathbucks patrons. Antagonizing the Palmtop Tiger was not the smartest thing he had ever done, but it was becoming a hilarious habit.

The two stared at each other with mirrored passion and frustration. There was nothing left to discuss or do except leave. They slid out of the booth at the same time, allowing Soul to finally get a good look at her. Beneath her girlish pigtails, Maka wore a lean cut leather jacket with an asymmetrical zipper that slightly curled around her torso. She was also wearing a red skirt, similar to the one from last night, with chunky combat boots.

Soul thrust his fists into the pockets of his own leather jacket. No wonder people were looking at them strangely-they looked like two members of the same biker gang, plotting away over identical cups of coffee.

"It's a good thing I left my skirt at home," Soul said. "Otherwise this would be awkward."

"Shut it," Maka said, her voice dripping with spite. "Let me know if you change your mind. I might consider re-extending my offer."

His face heated up with a mixture of embarrassment and anger, and he flashed her his most smug, infuriating smile. "Oh, I won't."

On his way back to his dorm, Soul's face settled into a grim scowl. Other students gave him a wide berth on the sidewalk, but he paid them no heed. He wasn't going to do Maka fucking Albarn any favors, not when she believed he was incapable of asking Patty on a date, something he had been day dreaming about for a whole year. He was twenty goddamn years old. He could do this. He was gonna waltz into Spanish class and ask her right then and there. If she said yes, he could rub it in Palmtop's face and prepare for what was assuredly the beginning of a very beautiful relationship-with Patty, not Maka. If she-Patty-said no, he would respect her decision and drink his disappointment away in private where she-Maka-could not gloat over his misery. Maybe when his heart had mended a little, Soul would see if either girl was interested in still being friends.

Spanish Cinema crept closer and closer. During his 11 a.m. piano practicum, Soul's fingers danced over the ivories of their own accord. The rumbling of his piano echoed his thoughts, which were consumed by the traces of a daydream mixed with the stampede of anxiety. What if Maka was right? What if he was an awkward, stuttery mess when he walked into class? Patty seemed to consider him a friendly acquaintance, but he didn't think she would find his nervousness charming or attractive. It burned him up to admit it, but maybe he was wrong to turn Maka down so fast.

After his piece was over, his professor cleared his throat. "Evans," he said. "That was well done, wonderful. Now do it again, but this time when you play, be a little less…" The professor waved his hand in the air, almost as if the perfect word was floating out of reach. "...sinister."

The piano keys thundered as he dropped his hands and rested his forehead on the instrument's shining wood.

After class, he ate lunch alone, hoping that some solitary face-stuffing would calm his nerves and dispel the queasiness gathering in his stomach. It was natural, normal, to feel nervous before you bared your soul to another person, no pun intended. A little fear and anxiety didn't mean he needed help. There was certainly no chance in hell that he was going to take Maka up on her offer. I'm a grown-ass man, he reminded himself. He had this.

Soul glanced at his phone while finishing off the last of his hamburger and noted that the closer it got to 2 p.m., the more time seemed to speed up. At this rate, he was going to be late for day one of Spanish.

His walk to the academic building was a blur, and once inside he dove into the men's room. He needed to wash his face, check his hair, steady his stupid shaking hands. Catching his reflection in the mirror accomplished the exact opposite. He rubbed the fringe of his white hair between his thumb and forefinger. The strands felt brittle and greasy, probably due to yesterday's slept-in hair gel. Sighing, he silently cursed all of the hair products that couldn't do their damn jobs and make him look human. The rest of him didn't fare much better. As if his eyes, the color of clotted blood, weren't bad enough, the smokey half-moons sagging underneath them added a latent serial killer charm that was sure to make Patty swoon, provided felons were her thing.

Yeah, right.

The one consolation he had was that this wasn't a cold approach. Patty and Soul knew each other. Just yesterday, she went out of her way to say hello. People didn't just do that, not to him. It might not have signaled romantic interest, but at least it meant that she liked him a little, that he was cool enough for her to go out of her way. That thought alone spurred him forward.

When Soul opened the classroom door, fifteen pairs of eyes immediately flicked towards him. He was one of the last students to arrive. After a hesitant pause in the door frame, Soul gathered his courage and surveyed the room. At this point, he had been in enough Spanish classes that he knew most his classmates. In the back corner was Kim Diehl, who had apparently dyed her hair pink over the summer, picking at her fingernails. Sitting closer to the front of the classroom was Harvar D'Eclair, who didn't seem to have changed at all since the spring, save for his thicker gauges.

And of course, Patty was sitting in the middle, doodling an animal print all over her notebook. She looked up at him and gave a slight smile and a little wave. There were no open seats near her. It took a miracle to keep his usual, impassive mask in place, but Soul managed to return the wave and hurry to an open seat towards the back, out of sight, where he could mentally rehearse what he was going to say to her.

Once he sat down, the professor cleared her throat. "We're going to start out with an icebreaker," the professor explained with zero enthusiasm. "Just tell the class your name, major, hometown, and a fun fact. Now who-"

Patty stood up immediately. "My name is Patty, I'm a linguistics major, I'm from New York City, and I never say no to a high five!"

"Hell yeah," Harvar said with a raised hand. Patty whipped her hand backward and smacked his palm. As she sat down, Soul saw Harvar rub his stinging hand and stifle a whimper.

Students stood up one by one of their own accord, summarizing their existences into a few meager facts.

"The name is Harvar, and I'm an environmental engineer. I'm from San Fran, and this summer I went hiking in Nepal and chilled with sherpas."

"Hi, I'm Kim Diehl. I'm a premed student, and I'm from Atlanta. My fun fact is that I sometimes lick my elbow for money. Tweet me for deets."

"My name is Soul. I'm majoring in music composition with a concentration in jazz studies. I'm from Long Island. My brother is famous."

The class started to watch the first movie on their syllabus immediately after the introductions. Whatever confidence he had cobbled together was dulled by rapidly speaking Spanish actors and the lingering hollowness that settled in Soul's ribcage every time he mentioned his brother. There was a time and place for everything, and maybe the first Spanish class of the year was not the most strategic opportunity to ask someone out. There was a lot going on, and now that he was here, it seemed a little inconsiderate to put Patty on the spot so soon in the semester. Better to put it off, rally the troops, perform some reconnaissance.

Though it was totally his own, independent, and not-at-all-influenced-by-Maka decision to forget about asking Patty out, Soul couldn't help but feel a little deflated as he left class. Any hope he had of casually walking or chatting with Patty were dashed when she skipped on ahead, barreling through the hallway, disregarding the oofs and watch its! of her peers as she went. Soul, having no classes or commitments to rush to, stood at the classroom threshold so he could wistfully watch her go. He should have asked her for a high-five. It would have hurt, and their hands would have touched for only a split-second, but his sappy heart craved affectionate, friendly contact no matter how brief or painful it was.

He was rubbing his fringe again and staring at the sidewalk when he saw-no, heard-Maka Albarn from across the quad. She was standing in the grass with her hands on her hips, arguing with a tall, dirty blonde girl that Soul didn't recognize. Maka's indignant voice really carried, which was impressive considering the quad's terrible acoustics.

As Soul began to turn around and head home, Patty bounded into the picture. She was laughing, smiling, beaming. Her hair was the color of fresh spun gold. Not for the first time, Soul was struck by how pretty she was and how happy she looked. Something in his chest tugged in her direction, and he felt warmth rush from his stomach to his fingertips.

He could make her happy, if he tried, if she'd let him. Soul would do whatever, go wherever she wanted, it wouldn't be a big deal. Not if they were together, and that's all Soul really wanted from a girlfriend-someone who would spend time with him, have fun with him, and maybe, eventually, love him. The problem was that as much as he would like to believe otherwise, he was pretty sure she wouldn't want to do anything even remotely date-like with him, not yet. All he could do was stand back and watch her happy, smiling face from afar, waiting in the wings until she invited him to join her at center stage.

If Maka was truly in the same boat as him like she said she was, then she could relate to his desire for intimacy more closely than anyone. And that was something he needed, Evans pride be damned.

He took out his phone, scrolled down to her contact, and tapped out a quick message. After sending the text, Soul turned around and walked the other way. He could already imagine the quizzical look on her face when she read it.

Despite texting her immediately after Spanish class, Soul was not able to rendezvous with Maka until after 9 p.m. They exchanged a chain of irritated text messages as Maka insisted they meet in his apartment and Soul soundly refused. "If you're going to come over again, you better earn it," he had said to her. She went on radio silence for a full two hours, during which Soul kept one eye on his phone at all times. If this was her idea of a punishment, then, well…. She was very good at thinking of annoying punishments.

She reopened communications after he had already eaten dinner.

Maka (8:00): Let's get a drink at the Tombs. We have to discuss.

Soul (8:00): wow so forward.

Soul (8:15): yo i was just joking

Soul (8:23): yo

Soul (8:30): hey

Soul (8:49): i'm sorry alright

Maka (8:50): Meet at 9.

About a quarter of the DCU student body considered Thursday to be a part of the weekend. Maka Albarn was clearly not one of those people. The bar had a decent amount of patrons, and Maka looked too grumpy to handle any of them. She huddled inside an oversized sweater despite the heat outside. Truth be told, it was cute.

"Hey, again," Soul said. "You cold?"

"It smells like cigarette water in here," Maka said without humor. "I don't want my nicer clothes to stink." To his slight disappointment, Soul noticed that Maka did not buy him a free drink this time. He must have used up all her good will when he shot her down and called her a twerp. Hoping to inspire at least some camaraderie, he went to the bar and bought them both beers. Soul didn't have a fake ID, but he found that when he looked grumpy enough, the bartender simply didn't ask questions.

When he returned, Maka eyed the two sloshing glasses with suspicion. She took hers all the same. "Let's get to business," she said bluntly. "I'm guessing you changed your mind?" Soul nodded silently. "Figured. Patty is a difficult person to pin down even for a study session. Getting her attention long enough to take her on a date can be even worse, especially if you don't know what you're doing."

"And you're going to tell me what to do?" Soul asked dully.

"No, I'm going to help you get to know her better." Maka extracted a notebook and pen from underneath her sweater. He really needed to ask her how she managed to carry so many school supplies and books on her person. "I figure," Maka continued, opening the notebook to a fresh sheet, "that if you tell me all about Kid, and I tell you all about Patty, we can write that stuff down and use it to become their friends."

Soul snorted. "I don't see how a grocery list is gonna help us get laid any faster."

In the exact same way she rose during their morning coffee meetup, Maka aggressively leaned over the table. "That's not what this is about!" She wrung her notebook in her hands, creasing the pages. "This is about making connections with our very souls! This is about forgetting all the crap people say about us and showing everyone that we don't hate men, we just don't have any tolerance for their bullshit!"

"...right."

"It's like-," Maka said, settling back down in her seat. "-a study guide. But for people. Wooing Kid is like a test, and you're the only person who can help me study. And I'll help you!" Her vibrant green gaze grew intense. "And then, we'll both get A's."

This was the most bizarre, cringe-worthy analogy Soul had ever heard. If she was really going to help him get closer to Patty, though, whatever floated Maka's weird English-major boat was fine with him. Though, to follow Maka's metaphor, he'd probably want a cheat sheet more than a study guide.

They sipped their beers for a while, content to ruminate on this strange arrangement of theirs in silence. Maka didn't have it as bad as he did, Soul decided. From what he could tell, she had loads of friends, she was really assertive and brave, and more importantly, she was just plain talented. Palmtop Tiger was fierce, but it was her intelligence and sharp, merciless snark that hamstrung unsuspecting men. She was a force to be reckoned with, a typhoon gaining momentum, and Soul was just a harmless cloud purring in the distance. He wasn't very good at making his own friends, so how he was going to help Maka befriend someone was beyond him.

"I don't see why you want my help," Soul blurted. Now that it was apparently his mission to collect some insight on one of his closest friends, it was becoming more and more obvious that Soul was utterly unqualified to talk about Kid at all, let alone become Maka's 'study buddy.' "To be honest, I don't even get why you would want to help me either. Why do you care about what happens to me?"

Maka's face softened with the elegant tragedy of a flower wilting at dusk. "Because, I get it. I'm not beautiful either." She took a sip of beer and paused. "This might not fix all of our problems, but at least if we try hard enough, we won't have to die virgins. That's a good enough reason for me."

Soul furrowed his eyebrows, instantly confused and concerned. "Who the hell gave you that idea?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well based on the goddamn shrine in your room, it isn't exactly a huge leap to assume-"

"No, not that," Soul said seriously. "I meant about you not being beautiful. Who's been telling you that?"

Her cheeks became rosy and warm. It wasn't the first time Soul had seen Maka flustered, but this was different. Her eyes, usually staring at him with practiced defiance or narrowed to suspicious slits, had grown wide with astonishment. The disbelief spreading across her features made Soul's chest ache.

"No one needs to tell me!" Maka finally said, indignant. "I can figure it out for myself!"

She rose from her seat and slung her handbag over her shoulder. "Hey!" Soul said. "That wasn't what I meant-"

"I'll text you tomorrow," Maka said. Her tone had once again become business-like and terse. "We'll figure out how we want to do this." Soul nodded silently, figuring that anything he said may dig his grave even deeper.

They parted without another word, and though they left on poor terms, Soul couldn't repress the buoyant, hopeful energy in his step.