Endless undefined symbol errors are coming out of her REPL and she curses, muttering under her breath and quickly scrolling up to the first one before tossing the entire procedure with a scowl. She doesn’t even bother to look at it, painfully aware of the fact that it is not salvageable. She should be working on an iterative version of the tree-recursive procedure, but she can't even get her scoping right.
Alyssa crosses her arms, glares at her SICP and huffs, plonking down on her seat without concern for decorum. She’s alone in the room, what need is there for decorum?
“You need to use a let* there,” a soft voice says behind her, and she jumps in fright, heart galloping in her chest. “If you use a let the earlier bindings are not in scope for the later bindings.”
“Eva,” Alyssa spits when she turns and recognizes her. “What are you doing here?”
Eva shrugs with one shoulder and reaches out with one finger toward Alyssa’s SICP, pointing out the third paragraph. “It says so right here.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Alyssa says, sharply. She still looks at the page and—yes, there it is. How had she missed it?
Pursing her lips, Eva looks away. Alyssa frowns. Eva is acting out of character. She should have rolled her eyes and vomited more knowledge at her or maybe make a vaguely sarcastic quip with the sharp tongue many believe Eva doesn't have. At least, that’s what Alyssa has come to expect after months of sharing classes with the girl.
“Eva?” she prompts impatiently after almost a minute has passed without any kind of answer. She’s not concerned. She’s not.
Eva takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and sharply turns to face Alyssa again, fists tightly clenched. There’s such a fierce look in her eyes that Alyssa is a little taken aback, and that’s why Eva's next words come as such a surprise.
“Do you maybe want to go to the Pride Parade this weekend?” Eva asks in a single breath, so fast that Alyssa has trouble understanding all the words. She looks terribly nervous as she adds, as if in afterthought, “With me?”
Alyssa’s heart stops beating and her brain refuses to work for a second or two. Then Eva fidgets, looking a little hurt and dejected and sad and says, “Never mind, then—”
Alyssa panics.
“Yes!” she blurts hastily and way too loud. She cringes before clearing her throat, trying to regain at least a bit of her usual cool. The blush on her cheeks is difficult to fight back, but she manages. She thinks. “Yes,” she says again, properly this time. “I’d love to.”
Eva’s eyes are big and hopeful and sparkling, and Alyssa can’t quite meet them if she wants to keep the blush away.
“It’s a date, then,” Eva says, with a smile so bright that is almost blinding and way too much for Alyssa’s poor heart.
The blush wins.
“Yes, it’s a date.”
**