Owen Grady pushed open the door to his dorm, the soft creak of the hinges cutting through the quiet hum of the evening. He barely flinched when he spotted her at his desk, her nose buried in a tangle of papers and diagrams. A half-empty mug of tea sat precariously close to the edge, forgotten as she jotted down notes with the intensity he had grown to admire.

"Didn't realize this was the library," he teased, tossing his jacket onto the bed. She glanced up, startled, but her lips curved into a soft smile when she saw him.

"Your chair's more comfortable," she replied, gesturing to the one she’d commandeered. "Plus, you have better lighting."

Owen chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her. She was studying the intricate relationship between diet and genetic traits in the park's herbivorous dinosaurs—work he didn’t fully understand but respected deeply. "I don’t mind. I’m used to you taking over my space," he said, his tone warm.

She leaned back, stretching, and caught him watching her. "Long day with the raptors?"

"Always," he said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "But seeing you here makes it better."

She laughed softly, gathering her papers into a neat pile. "I’ll finish up and get out of your way."

"Stay," he interrupted, his voice quieter now. "I like it when you’re here."

Their eyes met, and a blush crept up her cheeks, but she didn’t argue. Moments later, they were both stretched out on the bed, her head on his chest, her notes forgotten on the desk. The park buzzed outside, but inside this small room, it was just the two of them—an island of calm amid the chaos.