You and Mark had been studying in the library for over an hour, but judging by the way he kept tapping his pencil against the table and sighing every five minutes, his focus was long gone.

“You okay over there, Grayson?” you asked, not looking up from your notes.

Mark groaned, dropping his head onto his textbook. “No. My brain is officially fried.” He peeked up at you. “How are you still functioning?”

You smirked. “Unlike you, I actually pay attention in class.”

Mark scoffed. “I do pay attention! Just… not all the time.”

You arched a brow. “Right. Because saving the world is so much more important than passing midterms.”

His eyes widened for a split second before he realized you were joking. “Hah. Funny.”

You reached over and tapped his book. “C’mon, focus. If you fail, I’m not letting you copy my notes.”

“Ruthless,” he muttered but sat up anyway.

For a while, things were quiet. Then, suddenly, you felt his eyes on you.

“What?” you asked, looking up.

Mark hesitated before grinning. “Nothing. Just thinking about how unfair it is.”

You frowned. “What is?”

“That you look this good while studying, and I look like I’ve been run over by finals week.”

Heat crept up your neck, but you rolled your eyes. “Flattery won’t get you my notes.”

Mark chuckled, leaning a little closer. “Worth a shot.”

You tried to ignore how warm his arm felt against yours, the way he smelled. The light smell of sweat, skin, and cologne, but as the silence stretched, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. The way his lips curled in amusement, the soft flicker of the library lights in his eyes—it was distracting. You both really wanted to kiss each other.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind the distraction.