In freshman year, they had met regularly in the library on campus, where there existed several study rooms that saw almost no foot traffic. Sammi and Tasha had found one in the first week, and when they visited it again just a week later they’d seen the notebook Sammi had forgotten still lying on the desk, along with her good pen. It was pretty clear nobody was paying attention to the room, so they decided to treat it as theirs.

Just a month later, they’d been joined by Sadie and Cynthia, Sadie because she’d started dating Tasha and the two of them were completely inseparable, Cynthia because, like Sammi and Tasha, she had discovered the college-level biology and chemistry courses were a ramp up in complexity from what her high school had offered, and the three of them all felt they needed support to learn what they needed.

Cora had joined by the end of the first year, and Fallon had become part of things when the rest of the group were sophomores, which was also when Tasha started to host the event off-campus; Fallon, her roommate, was a postgrad they’d brought in to help with the chemistry elements of study.

The study group had by agreement and custom covered everything studied by at least two of the students, though, and Sammi’s psych studies were also important for Sadie.

So it was that early on, the group had started to offer each other more support than a study group usually would, and had become partly a social event from almost the start.

Which may go some way to explaining what happened in the second semester…

*

“…called it a Hierarchy of Needs,” Sammy was saying. “And you’ve probably seen the way he drew it, because we’ve started using it for memes but also, a pyramid or a triangle is just a way a lot of people like to lay these things out.”

Sammy started sketching the triangle out on a big sheet of paper spread out in the middle of the table.

He pulled out his phone. “I’m not super perfect on the details,” he said, “but if you google them you’ll get all the info. Just like I’m doing to fill this in.” He glanced up with a quick smile, expecting a good response, but Sadie was the only one to give it more than a thin smile of her own.

“At the core of it all is the idea that the lower layers of the pyramid are the most essential. Up at the top here we have self-actualisation. But not only can you not self-actualise if the needs below it aren’t taken care of, it’s not going to matter to you if you do.

“Down at the bottom here we have the physiological needs. All the stuff your body requires, basically. So enough calories to get through the day, oxygen, water, shelter from weather…”

“Sleep, even, presumably,” Sadie said. Sammy nodded.

“So that’s all of us missing one,” Tasha muttered, to a general circuit of smiles.

“I don’t know how much that’s a joke, but yes,” Sammy said.

"And where in all this,” Cynthia joked, “is the big strong man solving everyone’s problems for them?”

Sammy hesitated before answering. “Like, a politician who says just put him in charge then don’t worry about it, he’ll make the hard decisions that need making?”

“I was more thinking an ideal boyfriend, but sure.”

Sammy considered. “Well, an ideal boyfriend might be on here, fairly high up. But your trademark big strong man… I don’t think he’s a need-“

“Got that right,” Sadie interjected, and she and Tasha shared a smirk. Sammy laughed.

“The thing is, you might imagine he’s going to be one before he shows up,” Sammy said. “Isn’t that supposed to be how a lot of the worst elected rules get power, they sell the idea you can elect them and everything will be fine unless you’re one of the bad ones?”

The conversation wandered off in a very different direction from there.

*

Coming back after Christmas, the ‘big strong man solving everyone’s problems’ was already a joke the entire group loved to lapse into, and at least two sets of notes in the study group had it written into their Maslow diagrams, in very different places.

The biggest proponents of the joke were Tasha and Sadie, the happy couple, and no real surprise from that; Tasha with her bright purple hair and not-much-more-subdued bright plaid shirts (something Sammy hadn’t even realised you could buy until she realised Tasha had a small collection) and Sadie with the long bright pink mane always tied back in a ponytail, exposing her undercut, and the sleeveless tees showing off the muscle she was building, did not look like they were interested in men. Honestly, Sammy envied their confidence a lot of the time; it seemed like they must both have known who they were their whole lives.

Cynthia was at the other end of the spectrum; she mostly saw the funny side but if she was having a bad day and someone happened to trot the line out, Sammy often saw her flinch.

He contrived one day to walk out of the library in step with Cynthia, and it was easy enough to fall into conversation.

“I’ve realised I probably don’t know you or Cora as well as the others,” he said. “If you’re willing I’d like to change that. Got time for a coffee?”

Cynthia hesitated, but nodded.

Campus had a coffee shop that somehow hadn’t been farmed out to a franchise and was still run by a cheerful old man with a stutter and his extended family, and they took their coffees to a cosy booth in the corner when they got there.

From the outside they must have looked an unlikely pair, with Cynthia always dressed as femme as she could - she favoured loose flowing dresses and wedge heels, her long blonde hair cascading down over her back in half-curls - and standing a good four inches taller than Sammy even without the wedges. Sammy’s red hair was cropped short, his figure always hidden in a loose college hoodie and baggy jeans, and only expensive part of his outfit being a hefty pair of highly polished black leather boots.

“Can I ask,” Sammy began, choosing his words slowly, “the whole big strong man solving everyone’s problems thing - I get the impression it bugs you. I’d rather not keep it going if it does but I wondered what was up?”

He saw her wince again. After a moment or two, Cynthia took a deep breath. “It’s not… it’s not bad,” she said, although Sammy would have bet she was determinedly trying to downplay how she felt about it. “But, like… I didn’t mean it as a joke that way. And I wasn’t thinking of a politician.”

Sammy nodded. He didn’t want to say anything. It might stop her talking if he did.

“It was always the thing I was told growing up,” she said. “That one day I’d meet the man of my dreams and we’d fall in love and we’d get married and the two of us would take care of everything between us.” She was blushing now. “I was just a kid the first time they told me, you know? I believed it. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I can relate,” Sammy said quietly.

“Sure. The thing is, part of me still does.” She looked directly at him, met his eyes. He could feel how important it was to her that he understood, that he she was going to tell someone this she needed them not to come away with the wrong idea.

His own childhood beliefs had taken real struggle to accept were wrong. He could understand hers being harder to overcome. Especially as they might still be right for her. And it was when he considered that that he realised what the problem actually was.

“And you feel like you’re being judged for that.”

“The whole time.” She almost slumped back into the high-backed, well-padded chair in which she sat, the worry he wouldn’t understand at all now relieved. “So many of the people here are so sophisticated already, and-“ Cynthia threw up her hands in frustration.

“I don’t know if I can make the whole group stop making the joke,” Sammy said. “I’ve got a different idea, though, if you’re willing to let me try.”

Cynthia squinted at him. She didn’t look suspicious, exactly; after a moment he realised what it was that he was reacting to.

She looked dubious.

Something inside Sammy that he wasn’t proud of reacted to that. “Watch this,” he said, and he leaned forward over the low table between them, picking up one of the slim paper sleeves of brown sugar.

He ripped open the top of the sleeve and poured it into his cappucino in a slow arc, drawing a loose circle of darkness into the white foam and the yellow crema.

This was a dumb idea. It was an idea he should absolutely ask permission for, not seek forgiveness after, especially since it might not even work.

And yet at the same time, Sammy couldn’t get away from the irony of going ahead with it anyway to help the woman who just wanted a big strong man to take control, even if the adjectives there weren’t brilliant for him. Biggest and strongest in the study group were both Sadie.

“What am I watching for?” Cynthia asked, and he dipped a teaspoon into the foam.

“Watch closely,” he said, stirring in slow, wide arcs that described a narrowing spiral, working in from the outside to the centre, lifting out, and then dipping in at the outside to resume.

Sammy was proud of the dexterity of his fingers, something he’d developed in his teenage years when his mom had taught him how to knit. He could keep this up for a long time without the pace changing, giving it the illusion of a smooth flowing transition even though it wasn’t one.

“I like to do this when I’m feeling emotional,” he continued. “I find it really soothing. See how all this movement, all this turmoil, all smooths out every time?”

His eyes were on Cynthia, but hers were on the cup. He was watching, as they’d explained in class, for her eyelids to flutter for a moment, which was a sign that Cynthia’s brain was starting to process things differently. Kind of a hack for the head, as he understood it.

So he saw her nod fractionally, saw that her concentration was given over to the spoon, that she was genuinely willing to see where he was going with this even though she didn’t understand.

“Thoughts can be like that too,” he said softly, concentrating on making his voice as soothing and welcoming as he could. “Minds can be like that. Made up of all these currents rolling around, but in the end they smooth out and peace comes to the surface…”

This wasn’t exactly how they’d been taught word an induction, but also they hadn’t been taught using a cup of coffee; Sammy was a big believer in using what he had to hand.

He thought he saw her eyelids flutter the way it had been described, the big indicator that the induction was starting to work. He risked a quick glance around the coffee shop; he hadn’t expected anyone to have their attention on the little nook they sat in and he couldn’t see anyone who did.

“And then,” he continued, “suddenly it’s smooth and peaceful below the surface too… and you’re not thinking at all, Cynthia.”

He said the last firmly, clearly, and decisively. Like there was no question he might be wrong.

Cynthia sat still, unmoving, unblinking. He could easily believe her unthinking, too. And besides, there was no reason she wouldn’t speak up to question him on her first time being hypnotised if what he had said wasn’t true for her now.

“Very good,” he said. Reassurance and praise were apparently very useful for this kind of thing. “Now, Cynthia, if you can hear me, just nod.”

He watched her head slowly rise a little, then fall, but her eyes remained on the still surface of his coffee. Which gave him a sudden idea.

“Do you see the coffee cup in front of you?”

She nodded again, her eyes still unblinking and unwavering.

“All of the shame you feel, every bit of your embarrassment about the things you were raised to believe, is in my cup,” he continued. “Do you understand?”

Another slow, small nod.

He lifted his cup, and he drained down his cappucino in one. It was too much, really, especially with the froth and the cream, but it would make the point he needed it to.

He set the cup down in the saucer, where her eyes still rested.

“Your shame is gone, Cynthia,” he told her. “You feel no embarrassment in who you are. You can want what you want. Do you understand?”

She nodded again.

“Good girl,” Sammy reassured her. “Now, find yourself starting to think again…”

He held his breath, studying her reaction. Had the thing he’d tried to do worked the way he wanted it to?

He watched her eyelids flutter again. After a few moments, her lips twitched. She ran her tongue over them, blinking her eyes again, looking away from the empty cup.

“What just happened?” she asked.

“Do you remember?”

She looked at him. “I remember… something about shame in a cup?”

“Right.” He smiled. “And if I were to say you don’t actually need a big strong man to take control?”

She blinked again, then laughed. “What did you just do?”

“We just had an intro lesson on hypnotherapy,” Sammy told her. “I wanted to see if it would work.”

“I think… maybe?”

He nodded. “Time will tell.”

*

Aside from noting occasionally that Cynthia didn’t seem uncomfortable anymore when the joke came up, Sammy didn’t think much of the incident afterward. Freshman year was a busy time anyway, and it was full of incident, most of them far more memorable - at least as far as Sammy was concerned.

The next time it properly came to his attention, it was because Cora had hurried to catch up with him after the study group parted ways. “Sammy!” she’d called, somewhat breathlessly, and he’d stopped and waited for her with a certain bemusement.

“I need a favour,” Cora told him when she caught up, and then, “can we go somewhere quiet?”

“I… yeah, sure.” Sammy had a couple of hours after the study group finished before his next class; he usually just found somewhere quiet to sit and doomscroll on his phone, but hanging out with someone was probably better.

And it wasn’t like he could just ignore the way she’d started this conversation. That would have grabbed anyone’s attention.

They didn’t go to the coffee shop this time. Instead they headed over to the foyer of Cora’s dorm hall.

The foyer was huge, and it had seats scattered around all over the place. Once upon a time there’d probably have been an actual plan to the way they were laid out, but time and the vagaries of students had moved them around until there was no rhyme or reason to it.

Cora picked a sofa by the windows; when the halls had been built, these had probably had a great view, but it was now half occupied by car park and half by the back of a restaurant, meaning that nobody wanted to sit there and look out any longer. As a result it was quite empty around the sofa.

Cora having not said a word after he agreed to go somewhere quiet with her, Sammy figured this was probably necessary if she was going to speak up at all.

So he sat down next to her and simply waited.

“Cynthia told me you hypnotised her,” she said in the end. Sammy blinked in surprise.

“Okay?”

Cora turned to look at him, blue eyes studying him intently from under her dark bangs. “Did you?”

“I mean… yeah.” He shrugged. “It’d be a weird thing to make up, right?”

She didn’t muster more than half a smile at that, which told Sammy that whatever it was, it was churning her up inside. “I want you to hypnotise me.”

“What for?”

She blushed. “Oh. Yeah. You don’t know.”

“No…”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I keep missing my morning lectures.”

“Why?”

“I’m not getting to sleep before, like, four or five a.m. I just stay up scrolling my phone until I drift off, and then I sleep through my alarm, I sleep through my roommate getting up, I sleep through the noise of people moving about in the halls, and I miss lectures.

“But I can’t stop myself looking at my phone every night and I just… I know I’ve got to stop diving down into the content but I just can’t.”

“And you want me to… what? Stop you?”

“I want it to not be possible for me to do anything with my phone after midnight if I’m in bed.”

Sammy sat there for a few moments, thinking it through. “I might be able to do that,” he said. “If you’re OK giving up control, that is.”

“I’m asking you to do this, aren’t I?”

“Oh, sure,” he soothed. “But I meant… If I’m giving you a rule, you need to be willing to follow it. For Cynthia, I just gave her a way out.”

“I’m not sure I see the difference, but… I’m willing to try.”

“Right.” He smiled, then extended his arm forward, pointing out of the window at the furthest car in the car park. “Follow my finger,” he said, and prepared to improvise.

Cora looked in the direction he was pointing. Sammy smiled to himself. “I want you to pick out the thing that’s furthest away that you can see, okay? Something you have to squint to identify.”

“Sure…” Cora said, and while she sounded sceptical she wasn’t out-and-out dubious about it. She knew he’d hypnotised someone before; she believed that he could, and therefore most likely she believed she’d be hypnotised very shortly.

So far as Sammy understood it that made for easy mode.

“Just try and hold the picture of that in your mind,” he continued. “And if you see it change out there, try to keep your mental picture up to date. I want you to focus closely on that furthest point of clear vision, alright?”

She nodded, then frowned slightly as she relocated what she was supposed to be gazing at.

“Now, I want you to keep your attention on that,” he said. “And as you watch that point and you listen to my voice, you’re not going to notice for a while but you’ll find you’re aware less and less of our surroundings. Your ears will be focused on one thing, your eyes on another, and the more you focus, the less aware you’ll find yourself of anything else.”

He paused for a moment to let that settle in. “No scent…” he drew out the word carefully, slowly. “And, soon…”

He reached out with his other hand and ran a finger over the back of her hand. “…in just two or three more passes… you’ll find yourself not noticing my touch… because only what you see and what you hear will matter…”

And he drew his finger across the back of her hand again, paying close attention to her face.

There was still focus on her gaze; for a moment it had seemed to him that he could see her cheeks slacken, but then they caught themselves, adjusted, as she summoned back her focus.

He left it another moment. “Getting closer,” he told her, and made another pass across the back of her hand, and he watched as her eyes rolled up into her head, as her lips parted and she lost her awareness, and Sammy was conscious suddenly of his own reaction to that, an aroused response he had not been prepared for. Her neck, first, and then her back, went limp and she sagged against him, her head nestling by chance onto his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck.

He swallowed and took better hold of his own thoughts and impulses. “Cora,” he said softly, “do you hear me? You can nod.”

She nodded her head into his neck and Sammy was suddenly holding himself very still. “Cora,” he continued, “you are hypnotised, just as you asked. And just as you asked, a big strong man is going to take control.” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling about that. “Do you understand?”

She nodded again, and if anything it was better that time. He took another deep breath. “If it reaches midnight and you are in bed, or if you get into bed after midnight, you must put your phone down and shut it off. You cannot use it except for emergencies. Do you understand?”

Another nod, and this time Sammy went quickly to wake her again. It seemed to him unwise to leave her in trance much longer, in case temptation visited him more firmly.

“Let’s see how that works, OK?” he asked as she lifted her head from his shoulder, blinking sleepily.

“Sounds good,” she smiled.

*

Once again, Sammy thought not much more of hypnosis for some time afterwards; all the same, he couldn’t help but notice that when Cora wanted to concentrate during study group, she would run one thumb across the back of her other hand three times, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether that was connected to what they’d done.

When freshman year finished and he headed home, he had no idea what sophomore year would have in store, for himself and for the rest of the study group.