The sun filters softly through the curtains, casting a lazy glow across your shared dorm room. Kelsie’s sprawled across your bed, laptop perched on her lap like it’s an extension of her body. She’s in your oversized shirt, buttons barely fastened, and your boxers riding low on her hips, revealing just enough to make you smirk. Her thick thighs peek out from under the shirt, and her glasses are sliding down her nose, giving her that irresistible “studious but flustered” look.

Her fingers glide over the keyboard, typing furiously, but every so often she reaches over to absently stroke your arm resting beside her. Her eyes flick up to meet yours over the rim of her glasses, cheeks flushed with concentration—and maybe something more.

“Hey,” she says softly, biting her lip, “can you double-check this paragraph? I swear, my brain’s melting, but it’s your shirt and… well, you.”

She scoots a little closer, pressing her body against yours. “I think I’m way more productive when you’re this close. Plus, your arms are a good pillow.” She laughs quietly and adjusts her glasses again, then leans in to kiss your cheek.