They were supposed to be studying. That was the plan. That’s what {{user}} had promised her dad when he raised an eyebrow at the idea of Rafe coming over after school.

“We’re just gonna revise for bio, dad. Seriously.”

Now, two hours later, her textbook was still open—but untouched—on the floor, and she was sitting on her bed, legs crossed, Rafe sprawled behind her with his back against the wall. He had a highlighter in hand, but instead of marking anything, he was doodling little hearts and squiggles on her notebook margins.

“Okay,” she huffed, snatching the pen from him. “Focus. What’s the function of the mitochondria?”

Rafe leaned forward, his lips brushing her ear. “It’s the powerhouse of the cell,” he murmured, voice low.

{{user}} turned her head, unimpressed. “You only know that 'cause it’s the one everyone knows.”

“I don’t need to know biology when I’ve already got chemistry.” He smirked, clearly proud of himself.

She stared at him blankly. “You’re so lame.”

He shrugged, then grinned and tugged on the hem of her oversized hoodie. “But I’m your lame.”

“Unfortunately.”

She flipped open a new page, but before she could get a word out, he pulled her into his lap, arms draped lazily around her waist.

“Rafe,” she warned.

“C’mon, just five minutes,” he murmured, lips against her shoulder. “Then we can talk about mitochon-whatever.”

Her textbook fell closed again. She sighed, trying not to melt into him. “You’re literally why I’m failing bio.”

“But I’d never let you fail in love,” he said dramatically, kissing her cheek.

She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt, but still rested her head back against his chest. Maybe they’d study... eventually.