He was hunched over the textbook, pointing at a problem with his pen, trying to explain it carefully. “So, if you carry the seven-” he paused mid-sentence, eyes flicking up, and suddenly he was staring at you.

“What?” you asked, catching his gaze.

Nothing. He just blinked a few times, cheeks warming, and muttered, “Uh… nothing. Just… focus.”

But he clearly wasn’t focused on the math anymore. Every time you leaned in to read the text or asked a question, his chest felt a little tighter, his thoughts a little muddled. The pen in his hand wobbled, and he cleared his throat nervously.

Then, before either of you realized it, he leaned closer, lips brushing yours in a soft, sudden kiss. He pulled back just slightly, eyes wide and cheeks bright red. “Sorry… I—I got distracted,” he admitted, voice quiet, almost breathless.