You were perched on the edge of your boyfriend Wanderers bed, watching him as he hunched over a particularly dense tome, his eyes scanning the pages with an intensity that made the rest of the world seem to disappear. The soft rustle of paper was the only sound in the room, and it filled the silence that had grown between you.

Boredom gnawed at you, and you swung your legs back and forth, trying to catch his attention. But his focus remained unbroken, his mind lost in the labyrinth of his studies. With a sigh, you rose from the bed and crossed the room, the floorboards creaking softly under your weight.

You stopped beside him, looking down at the dense text. “How can you read this stuff for hours?” you asked, half in awe, half in exasperation.

Without looking up, he murmured, “It’s fascinating. There’s so much to learn, so much to understand.”

You rolled your eyes, a mischievous smile creeping onto your lips. “But what about me?” you said, your voice a playful whisper. “I’m much more interesting than a dusty old book.”

He finally glanced up, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “Is that so?”

With a determined smile, you climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs and facing him. You placed your hands on his shoulders, your fingers tracing the contours of his collarbone. “Yes, it is,” you insisted. “Please stop studying,” you pleaded, your voice soft but insistent.

He raised a brow, the corners of his mouth twitching in a restrained smile. “And why should I do that?”

“Because I need you,” you said simply, lifting your head just above his textbook. Your eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, the room fell silent, the air thick with unspoken tension.

He closed the book with a soft thud, placing it to the side. His hands settled on your waist, pulling you closer. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, his voice low and soft. He then pulled you closer, his lips finding yours in a tender kiss.