The Yale newsroom buzzed with the usual late-night chaos—clacking keyboards, half-empty coffee cups, and the occasional frustrated groan from an overworked editor. Y/N barely had time to glance up from her notes when a familiar, cocky voice cut through the noise.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite overachiever,” Logan drawled, dropping into the chair beside her with that signature smirk.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. “Shouldn’t you be off charming your way out of another economics paper?”

He chuckled, leaning in just enough to make her pulse quicken. “Now, where’s the fun in that when I could be here distracting you instead?”