“Is this even a real date? We’re just studying.” 

“Yes, it’s a real date. We are spending time together. My leg is on your lap, meaning we are touching. I brought snacks and I said I love you 4 times. This counts.” 

“Only 4 times?” 

“I love you.” 

“That’s better.” 

She put her hand on top of mine. Looking up at me, I could see that her brain was not really here. She was still so worried about that math exam next week. I wish I could ease her anxiety. She was too smart to be second-guessing herself. 

“You know that you’re going to pass, right? You are by far the smartest person I know.” 

“You should probably meet some other people then.” 

“Oh shut up, would you? I’m trying to be a supportive girlfriend.” 

“I know you are. I’m just worried.” 

She tangled her fingers around my neck. I closed my eyes, leaning into her touch. Did she know how good that felt? I wish I could make her feel the way she makes me feel. She wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of person. I wonder what her love language was. 

“Babe? Do you know what your love language is?” 

“What like, touch, gifts, acts of service - that kind of thing? I hadn’t really thought about it. Maybe quality time. I love to just be in a room with you. Not doing anything. Just to be near you is more than enough.” 

I love to watch her talk. I can see her brain moving and connecting the words. She always makes great eye contact and watches my emotions. Everytime she wiped her lip on her teeth, a little smile would appear. No one else would notice that. It was my little secret. She was my little secret. 

“I’ll try to remember that.” 

“Hmm.” 

And back she went to her book. She crouched over a little more in her chair. Her leg shifted a little. I watched as the outside world faded to her. Even though she could feel me slowly brushing her calf, she definitely wasn’t conscious of it. Quadratic equations were all that mattered at the moment. Her eyes went back and forth, left and right across the page. I could see the beginning of her tongue. I knew she would turn into a little frog soon enough. I moved down from her face to her hair. I left one hand on her calf and used the other to brush her bangs behind her ears. She always complained when they got this long. She slightly moved her head so I could play with her hair easier, smirking as she did. 

“Do I need a haircut?” 

“No, I like it long.” 

I should probably be doing my homework too. I had an essay to finish. But she was far too distracting. Why drag on about the history of trojan war when my Helen was right here. She might need saving from her own Theseus.