A/N: Hey, it's Trish here. Thanks for reading! I really hope you enjoy this first chapter that I wrote. Jasmine and I have been wanting to collaborate for forever and we really worked hard for this. We've designed the elements of the story to every little detail and drawn on real life experiences while doing so. Maybe you'll be able to learn a bit about me and Jasmine through this story! I hope to be able to interact with you guys a lot more! Feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome—feel free to comment or PM me or Jasmine directly. Follows, votes, and reads are much appreciated as well. Happy reading!

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A banquet was being held after the awards ceremony. Attendance was mandatory, especially for those who had won, but Gemma didn't attend.

She stumbled back to her room with her friends, all four of them fatigued and ready to collapse. They dumped their awards on the bed and slipped out of their blazers, changing silently into business casual outfits.

"Gemma, you coming?" asked Lucy, one foot out the door. Gemma shook her head, her fingers still slowly unbuttoning her white blouse. She didn't explain why. She didn't trust herself to.

One of her other friends started to say something but Lucy stopped her, whispering, "Let's go." Raising her voice, she added, "Text us if you need anything, okay?"

Gemma nodded, grateful for the gesture but not voicing it aloud. She finished changing as they left and left her clothes strewn across the bed, making sure they covered her medal.

She had about an hour and a half before people would start coming back to the hotel. Not feeling very productive, she did some homework—history, then math. After a few minutes she realized she wasn't able to concentrate, so she took a cold shower. She couldn't help but cry in the shower so she got out as soon as she could and pulled out her laptop. It was time to stop avoiding the inevitable.

Logging on and pulling up a browser was simple enough, but she hesitated as the cursor hovered over the shortcut of the PDF document that contained her thirty page entrepreneurship plan. Clicking on it by accident, she cursed her touchpad sensitivity and bit her lip as her plan took up the screen and loaded.

Her laptop was relatively new, so it didn't take long. The pleasant, green heading popped up. Company name, competitor name, event name, school—everything was formatted perfectly on the title page. She had everything required in the report: the executive summary, company introduction, marketing proposals, and even an exit strategy. Her ideas were planned out to the last detail. Her grammar was meticulous.

A year's accumulation of her most original ideas compressed into thirty pages. Not second place. Not even third.

Top ten. Pathetic.

The international first place award had gone to Adam Marin, the only other competitor in her event from her school. Second and third place she didn't give a shit about. The rest of the top ten winners... well, while they might have been excited to even step onto the stage during the ceremony, the only thing Gemma could think of was what a step down this was from last year.

She finished reading the plan in minutes and leaned back until she was reclining on the bed. Suddenly hot with anger, she blinked and thought, Why wasn't it enough?

With a start, she realized she didn't know what she was really asking. Why wasn't it enough for the judges? Why wasn't it enough for her?

Her friends were definitely talking with everyone else, congratulating each other, eating food, and squeezing in last minute homework. Gemma was here in bed, rereading her plan despite the competitions finally coming to a close.

Sighing heavily, she sat back up and abruptly closed her laptop. Just when she decided she wouldn't think about it until she returned to school, somebody knocked on her door. The insufferable smile of Adam Marin greeted her as she opened it and she suppressed the urge to groan.

Her blood started boiling. She bit her lip, looking at him expectantly, not sure what to say. What's up? or Get out both didn't seem very appropriate.

Luckily, he spoke first. "Hey, Gemma," he said, "I just wanted to congratulate you. You did a good job this year."

"Why didn't you go to the banquet?" she finally forced out.

He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. He was still in business formal, his blazer hanging over his shoulder and his dress shoes in his hand. Gemma looked down at his feet. His socks were a little dirty. She wondered where he had gone after the ceremony, since he hadn't gone to the banquet. He definitely hadn't returned to his room, or else he would have changed.

"It's quite boring," he replied, "And everyone's fake. When they congratulate you... they're only thinking about one of two thoughts—I did better or I deserved to do better. I'm tired of it."

It was ironic. Gemma had stayed behind because she was guilty of doing exactly what he was tired of. "Oh," she said lamely, feeling pathetic. What else could she say?

"Your plan was really well written," he said, smiling. He had lines around his eyes whenever he grinned. "I read over it." Of course he had. As vice president of her school's competitive branch, he had read over everyone's plans, no matter the event, to fix formatting and grammar errors.

"Thank you," she said, her words feeling hollow, "Congratulations to you too."

It was his turn to look down at his feet. "Thanks. Anyways, my roommates and I were about to start a game of poker—want to join us?"

He couldn't be serious. Gemma wanted to shake him and scream. "I don't know how to play."

"That's fine, I'll teach you."

"No, thank you."

She started to close the door, but he interrupted, "Are you upset about the competition? I totally get it, but if you want, I can look over your plan and tell you—"

"No, thank you," she whispered, closing the door. Just before she did, she caught his look of surprise. He had blinked and opened his mouth, as though wanting to say something. She hadn't wanted to hear it.

Gemma closed her eyes for a few seconds, taking a deep breath. When she finally opened them, she hurled the nearest object—one of Lucy's hardcover books—at the door, letting out a cry of frustration. She walked over to the door and picked it up, muttering an apology to Lucy. After placing it back on the table and clearing everything off the bed, she fell back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.

She heard the door beep, indicating that her friends were unlocking it. She quickly turned on her side, facing the window, and waited for them to enter.

It took them a while to shower, pack, and climb into bed. The entire time, Gemma kept her eyes shut while she listened intently to their whispering. They were reflecting on the week's past events, recapping what had happened at the banquet. None of them mentioned Gemma—or Adam.

Lucy folded Gemma's blazer and khakis, placing it on top of her suitcase. She wanted to thank her but she couldn't without revealing that she wasn't actually asleep.

I can't wait until we catch the flight home.