You startle when Nikolas drops a bag of takeout onto your desk, one hand palming the back of your chair as he leans close to see what you’re studying.

“It’s been three hours, and you’re only on question 25 of the review?” He huffs, and rolls his shoulders before taking the mouse from your hand. “You should know this, look,”

All that’s offered is the swirl of the cursor around the equation you’ve been working on, and the not-so-subtle glance your way as he tries to gauge your expression. “Easy, no?”

Nikolas knows just as much as you when it comes to the subject— probably less, but at least he’s trying to be motivating this time instead of just sitting on your bed while he watches you owlishly.

The routine’s been the same ever since finals week neared. He believes in last minute caffeine rushes, and you believe in studying yourself bone-dry for a passing grade. These lunch dates are essential for your sanity— or at least that’s what he tells you.