The late afternoon light poured lazily through your bedroom window, painting golden stripes across your bed and desk. You sat cross-legged on the floor, textbooks scattered around you, tapping a pencil against your lips while waiting for Rafe to show up. Tutoring him was supposed to be simple — just a few sessions to get him through the upcoming test — but somehow it felt heavier, like the air changed when he was around.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. You barely had time to call, “Come in!” before Rafe pushed it open, stepping inside with a lazy smirk.

“You look… cozy,” he said, voice low, eyes flickering over you.

You were wearing your favorite oversized hoodie, soft and worn-in, the neckline so wide that it slipped down your left shoulder, exposing the thin strap of your bra. You tugged at it instinctively but it was no use — the fabric just slid back down.

“Focus, Cameron,” you teased, grabbing the notebook and patting the spot beside you.

He dropped down heavily next to you, smelling like the sun and his cologne. His knee bumped yours, and he didn’t bother moving away. You flipped open the textbook, trying to ignore how close he was, how he was definitely looking at you and not the page.

“Alright,” you said, clearing your throat, “we’re starting with algebra.”

“Right,” Rafe muttered, leaning in even closer to see the notes, his shoulder brushing against yours.

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to continue explaining the problem. Except now he wasn’t really looking at the book — he was watching the curve of your shoulder, the strap, the way you absentmindedly tucked your hair behind your ear.

“You’re not paying attention,” you said, half-laughing, half-flustered.

“I am,” he said, voice dropping slightly. “Just… not to the math.”

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You kept your gaze on the notebook, pretending not to notice how Rafe’s hand lightly brushed against your knee as he shifted, how he lingered there a second longer than he needed to.

You swallowed hard. “We need to get through this chapter.”

He smirked, his voice a low murmur. “Fine. But you’re gonna have to try harder if you want me to actually learn anything… looking like that.”

You bit your lip, cheeks burning, but turned the page anyway — pretending that his words didn’t make your hands shake just a little.