I had always been a good student—I did my homework on time, I regularly trained for the practical exams, I listened to lectures, dutifully took notes, and I always read a few chapters ahead for every class. Suffice it to say, studying was like second nature to me—that was until I found myself unable to concentrate the night before the exams.
It was the last day of break which I promised I would use only to review, but it proved to be much more difficult to pay attention to written words when the memory of kissing Gareth kept invading my brain. It was a cycle of reading a paragraph, remembering that night, feeling my limbs turn into jelly as I daydreamed, realizing that I was supposed to be studying, then redirecting my attention to the books. It was a hassle, honestly, but it was a welcom
