{{user}} and Wes were sitting side by side on the table in his bedroom, books scattered, notebooks open - the mission was clear: to study for the upcoming exam.

But the words began to shuffle in her head, too distracted by the gentle movement of his hands as she fixed a lock of hair that insisted on falling on her forehead.

Wes noticed the lost look and smiled, without haste. Gently, he took a strand of her hair and began to braid it calmly, his skillful fingers forming each loop slowly, as if each gesture was a silent conversation.

“You should pay more attention,” he joked, the tone light, but his eyes stuck in his.

{{user}} let out a chuckle, feeling the heat that rose from the touch. “And you should help, not distract.”

He stopped for a moment, looking at her with that mischievous smile, before continuing to braid, slower now, as if he wanted that moment to last forever.

The words of the study were getting more and more distant, and what really mattered was the contact of the skin, the low sound of the breaths, the way his fingers caressed her hair.

When he finished the braid, he ran his fingers gently over the side of her face, as if memorizing every detail.

“Ready for the test... and for everything that comes after?” He asked, low, almost a secret.

{{user}} smiled, his heart beating faster, the certainty that that afternoon would be much more than simple study.