Tania

episode 8: group dynamics

The classroom was already half full when Tania, Layla, and Maya slipped into seats near the middle row.

Layla popped open a granola bar. “Watch, today’s gonna be one of those fake-deep lectures.”

Maya laughed. “I actually like this class. The reading last time was kind of brilliant.”

Tania rested her chin on her palm. “At least it’s not algebra.”

The door swung open and the lecturer entered—Professor Shawn . Tall, lean, and serious, with glasses perched low on his nose and a voice that made students sit up straighter without realizing it.

“Good morning, everyone,” he said, setting his briefcase on the desk. “Let’s dive in.”

He paced the front of the room, chalk already in hand. “Today we’re talking about Representation and Narrative Framing. Who tells the story—and how—shapes everything. Even the truth.”

He scribbled ‘Who owns the narrative?’ across the board.

“But we’ll explore this hands-on,” he added. “You’ll be working in groups for your first project.”

A few students groaned. Layla whispered, “Here we go.”

Professor shawn continued. “Each group will select a media topic—anything from film tropes to political reporting—and create a 10-minute presentation. Due next week. You’ll find your groups posted outside after class.”

He smiled like he was doing them a favor. “You’ve all been randomly assigned in threes. Consider it a chance to collaborate. Or test your patience.”

---

Ten minutes later, the hallway buzzed with students crowding around the notice board.

“group 3..... Maya's with Bree and Ryan "...layla scanned "group 7 Elijah Layla and Tania

Tania leaned in and read it too. “Elijah.”

Layla raised an eyebrow. “You mean Mr. Know-It-All from last week?”

Tania sighed. “Yup. That one.”

“Could be worse,” Layla said. “We could be stuck with someone who doesn't know what a denotation is.”

---

Later that afternoon, at the cafeteria

Tania , Maya and Layla were halfway through their drinks when a voice cut in behind them.

“There she is.”

They looked up.

Elijah stood at the edge of their table, sleeves rolled, dimples in full effect. His tray held a single bottle of drink and an apple he probably wasn’t going to eat.

“Ladies,” he said smoothly. “Ready to make academic history?”

Layla blinked. “You rehearsed that, didn’t you?”

He grinned, then slid into the seat across from them without asking. “I saw the group list. Figured I’d come claim my squad.”

Tania exchanged a quick look with Layla.

“I’m assuming you saw the deadline,” Elijah went on, opening his drink. “One week. Which means we start today. After classes.”

“Bold of you to assume we’re all free,” Layla said, folding her arms.

“Bold, but practical,” Elijah said. “We have six days. And trust me—if we don’t start now, we’ll be winging it with slides made at 2 a.m. and half-baked ideas. That’s not my vibe.”

“And what is your vibe?” Tania asked, leaning forward just slightly.

He smirked. “Winning.”

Layla snorted. “Oh God.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “Let’s knock it out early. Pick a topic, divide it up, research, rehearse—done. I’ll even book a quiet room in the library.”

Tania raised an eyebrow. “You’re really gunning for group leader, huh?”

“I’m not gunning,” Elijah said casually, “I already am. It’s not ego—it’s strategy.”

“Sounds like ego to me,” Layla muttered.

Elijah chuckled. “I’ll take it. As long as we get an A.”

Tania leaned back in her chair, sipping her drink. “Fine. But you don’t get full dictator privileges.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he said with a wink. “We’re a democracy—just one with a very charming president.”

Layla groaned. “He’s going to be like this the whole week, isn’t he?”

Tania smirked. “Unfortunately.”

While Tania was knee-deep in group project planning, Zara’s day took a different turn—

She had wandered into the Student Media Fair on a whim. Flyers promised “free popcorn” and “networking opportunities;but she mostly came because she was bored and needed a reason to skip her 2pm class

Zara wandered through slowly, sipping a cold drink .

A table caught her eye: REEL TALK – Campus Film Society.

Cheap movie props, film posters, a ring light balanced on a tripod. She paused, mostly because of the red and black flyer taped to the front:

“Auditions for Short Film Project – This Saturday”

“Thinking of auditioning?”

She turned.

Eliot.

Same boy from the party— camera around his neck this time, voice cooler than she remembered.

Zara blinked. “Didn’t know you were in a film club.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, we do short projects. Campus stuff.”

ohhhhh nice; she said still starting at the audition flyers .

He cleared his throat, eyes shifting just slightly. “Hey, um… about the party the other night.”

Zara arched a brow. “What about it?”

There was a brief pause, then he scratched the back of his neck. “Look… I know this is random. But the other night? At the party? That whole thing was a mess.”

She tilted her head. “That’s one word for it.”

“I swear, it was a misunderstanding. I didn’t plan for any of that to happen. And I’ve been going nuts trying to explain things to her.”

Zara crossed her arms. “So explain.”

“I would, if I could find her. I don’t have her number, socials, nothing. Only chance I have is if I bump into her on campus.”

Zara studied him. He wasn’t performing—it didn’t feel like it, anyway. Just a little frustrated. A little desperate.

“I’ll pass your message,” she said finally.

Eliot let out a breath. “Thanks. Seriously.”

Then, recovering, he gestured to the flyer-covered table behind him. “Since I’ve got your attention… we’re doing open auditions for a short film project. Nothing dramatic—just something small but fun. It’s student-led, and honestly kind of useful if you're in media or comms.”

Zara raised an eyebrow. “You recruiting now?”

“I’m charming, not pushy. But you’ve got presence. And we could use more of that.”

She laughed under her breath. “I’ll think about it.”