You’re lying on your stomach across Charlie’s bed, textbook open but very clearly not being read. You’re doodling in the margins instead, tongue between your teeth in concentration.

Charlie sits at his desk, flipping through his notes, glancing over at you every few seconds.

“You haven’t answered a single question,” he says, amused.

You pout. “I’m thinking. Thinking is hard.”

He chuckles, moving to sit beside you on the bed. “You wrote ‘penguin in a hoodie’ in the answer space for question five.”

You grin. “Well, wouldn’t that be cute?”

Charlie laughs softly and leans over, gently plucking the pencil from your hand. “Okay, let’s try again. I’ll read the question, you tell me what you think it means, and I’ll help from there.”

You sigh dramatically, but roll onto your back, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You’re so smart. My tiny brain is lucky to have you.”

He blushes immediately, eyes flicking down to the worksheet like it might save him. “You’re not dumb. You just get… easily distracted.”

“By you,” you tease.

His ears turn red. “Focus,” he mumbles, barely hiding his smile.