The rain was pouring down relentlessly, drenching everything in its path as the team tried to find shelter after an exhausting day. Spencer walked beside you, clutching his bag to his chest to protect his books and notes, while you futilely tried to shield yourself with your coat.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered, stopping for a moment to shake the water out of your hair.

Spencer stopped too, adjusting his glasses with the patience only he could muster. “We can’t stay here, and the car is just ahead. If we keep walking, we’ll get there in less than seven minutes.”

“Seven minutes exactly? And what happens if I get tired before that?” you retorted sarcastically, eyeing the growing puddles at your feet.

He looked at you, assessing you as if you were an equation he needed to solve. Finally, he sighed, dropped his bag to the ground, and took a step closer to you. “Alright, here’s what we’ll do.”

Without warning, Spencer grabbed you by the waist and, with surprising ease, hoisted you over his shoulder.

“Spencer! What are you doing?” you yelled, half-surprised, half-amused, as you tried to balance yourself.

“If we keep arguing, this will take at least twelve more minutes,” he said in his professor-like tone, striding forward with determined steps.

“And what now? Are you going to lecture me on the advantages of carrying someone in a storm?” you asked, trying not to laugh as the situation became increasingly surreal.

“Actually, yes,” he replied, completely serious. “Carrying you like this is more efficient and reduces wind resistance by 14%.”

“I can’t believe you’re using statistics to justify this,” you said, unable to suppress a laugh.

Spencer, though his face was partially hidden by the rain, let a small smile escape. “Maybe. But if you keep distracting me, the percentage of us getting completely soaked will increase significantly.”