By the time the sky outside turns indigo, Elliot announces he has one quiz and one assignment due by midnight.
I blink at him from my cocoon on the couch. "You want to do homework here?"
"I mean," he shrugs, "I'm bothering you anyway."
"You're not bothering me."
He gives me a look like sure, okay, and I give him my tablet without another word. It feels like the least I can do, considering he stayed. The battery's already charged, stylus tucked neatly in the side flap. He logs in, his expression sharpening in that way it used to when we studied together. Calm, focused, jaw tensed just slightly. I remember this version of him. The serious student mode. Quiet but present.
Ah, I remember the days we always rushed to remembering everything the night before exams. Old days. I smile.
