The library was wrapped in quiet, broken only by the soft rustle of turning pages and the distant hum of the air conditioner, you were hunched over your laptop, trying for the third time to explain a concept your friend Enrico had been struggling with for weeks, lines of text and data glowed on the screen like a personal attack.

“See?” You whispered, tapping the trackpad. “If you connect these two sections here, the conclusion actually makes sense.”

Enrico leaned closer, but not toward the screen, his eyes were fixed on the side of your face instead. “Giusto,” He murmured. “Il ponte. Certo.”

“Rico, you’re not even looking.” You said quietly, bumping his arm with your elbow. “I’m trying to save your grade here.”

You turned back to the laptop and reached for the mouse when you felt a sudden tug, his hand had hooked around the leg of your swivel chair, pulling it gently toward him until your thigh brushed against his and your shoulders touched.

You looked up, startled. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t let go of the chair right away, his eyes stayed on the laptop screen, but the tips of his ears had turned faintly pink. “I—uh… I couldn’t see the laptop.” He said, his voice slightly lower than before.