Chapter 22 - Study Sessions & Zero Productivity

The entire university was in survival mode—midterms loomed like an approaching storm, and no one was safe. Students scurried between buildings clutching stacks of notes and half-empty coffee cups. The library was a war zone of bloodshot eyes and whispered curses, with every table piled high with textbooks that looked suspiciously unopened until the night before. Some of the more resilient souls camped in corners, determined to absorb a semester's worth of knowledge in a single marathon reading session. Others had given up entirely, sprawled on the floor of study rooms like heroes fallen in battle.

Amid all the chaos, Orm and Lingling navigated the campus with the same level of confidence they always had—though for different reasons. Orm was the type who always kept up with her coursework. Her notes were color-coded, but only to a moderate degree. She studied consistently, never letting anything accumulate. So, while everyone else panicked, she maintained a calm (and, if you asked her friends, slightly smug) demeanor.

Lingling, on the other hand, was in peak academic beast mode. She was a future lawyer, after all, and had the color-coding system of a seasoned tactician. Her case summaries were so meticulously arranged that a random onlooker might believe they'd stumbled upon a museum exhibit titled: "Pristine Legal Artifacts." She rarely took breaks, running on the quiet confidence that as long as she kept her system in perfect order, she'd never falter. And somehow, between them, Orm and Lingling seemed to handle the impending doom with more grace than the rest of the campus combined.

Still, midterms were midterms, and the strain showed even on these two.

Orm found herself yawning more often, scribbling side notes in her margins about needing to call her mom or pick up more coffee. Lingling was more intense than usual, her eyes darting across pages of legal text at breakneck speed, her mind never pausing for idle chatter.

That didn't mean they weren't thinking about each other. If anything, it felt like midterms had stolen any chance they had to spend time together. And neither Orm nor Lingling was particularly happy about that.

Between cramming sessions, unexpected pop quizzes, and last-minute group presentations, Orm barely caught glimpses of Lingling. Maybe she'd see her across the quad, calmly brushing off a frantic classmate asking for help. Or she'd spot Lingling in the library, hunched over a monstrous tome, lips pursed in concentration. They'd wave, exchange a half-smile, and then—off they went, consumed by their academic obligations.

Finally, Orm decided enough was enough. As they were packing up after a short library stint, she sidled over to Lingling, who was rearranging her carefully organized notes in alphabetical order by subject (because of course she was).

"We should study together," Orm declared, arms folded.

Lingling didn't look up. "We do study together. We're in the library right now."

"No, I mean, actually study together," Orm insisted. "In a place where we can talk, maybe not be distracted by every passing student."

Lingling gave a quick, appraising glance. "You really think I won't be distracted at your place?"

Orm grinned, leaning in. "I promise. We'll focus, no funny business."

A faint, knowing smile tugged at Lingling's lips. "No funny business, you say?"

Orm gulped, ignoring the heat that rose to her cheeks. "None at all."

It wasn't obvious that it was a bald-faced lie. Orm truly believed she could remain professional, academically motivated and immune to Lingling's unstoppable gravitational pull.

She was also very, very wrong.

They agreed to meet at Orm's apartment in the early evening, hoping that by immersing themselves in a cozier environment, they'd be able to power through the rest of their midterm prep. Lingling showed up precisely on time—6:00 p.m., her bag slung neatly over her shoulder, wearing her usual "law student uniform": fitted pants, a crisp blouse, and a blazer that practically screamed don't mess with me.

Orm welcomed her in, gesturing toward the couch. "Make yourself comfortable, I'll just grab some stuff from my room."

In typical Lingling fashion, she wasted no time. Within minutes, she had the coffee table cleared and her notes spread out, a fortress of highlighters and flashcards. The very air around her hummed with efficiency.

Meanwhile, Orm—unaware of the hurricane she was about to unleash—popped into her bedroom to change into something comfortable. Because who studies in stiff jeans, anyway?

She emerged a few minutes later in baggy short shorts and a loose t-shirt, just something to lounge around in. No big deal. Right?

But as she flopped onto the couch, Lingling's eyes flicked upward, and for an instant, her entire composure cracked. She stopped mid-sentence, her lips parted in surprise. Was that a faint pink tinge on Lingling's cheeks?

"You okay?" Orm asked, noticing that Lingling hadn't resumed scribbling her notes.

Lingling blinked, coughed softly, then tried to reassert her calm. "Yes. Just... thinking about something."

Orm smirked, her mind already celebrating a tiny victory. She found it adorable how even the unstoppable Lingling Kwong could be caught off guard by a simple outfit change.

"Well," Orm teased, "are we going to study or stare at each other all night?"

Lingling cleared her throat, eyes shifting back to her notes. "Study. Right. Of course."

Orm forced herself not to giggle. She settled next to Lingling, mentally patting herself on the back for having discovered a fresh way to fluster her oh-so-composed girlfriend.

But Lingling, of course, had her own counter-move. After about half an hour, Orm noticed she kept shifting in her tailored blazer, and every time Lingling moved, Orm caught a whiff of that faint, intoxicating scent she wore. She tried to ignore it—this was study time, after all—but her eyes kept drifting to Lingling's stiff, formal outfit. It just looked so... uncomfortable.

"You can borrow some clothes if you want," Orm offered casually.

Lingling arched an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want me wearing your clothes?"

Orm shrugged. "I mean, you look tense. It's just for the evening."

Lingling's answer was immediate. "Show me."

Orm rummaged in her dresser, finally throwing a shirt and a pair of loose shorts to Lingling, who disappeared into the bathroom. When she emerged...

Orm's turn to short-circuit. Lingling in her clothes was an image Orm couldn't have conjured if she tried. The shirt fell around Lingling's hips, and those casual shorts—holy meltdown.

Lingling smirked, noticing how Orm's jaw slightly dropped. "Are you staring?" she asked in a deceptively polite tone.

Orm whipped her head away. "No. Maybe. Let's just study."

Lingling walked over, her smirk turning into a small grin. "Sure, sweetheart."

And Orm's so-called advantage? Gone in an instant.

They managed about an hour of actual studying—highlighting paragraphs, scribbling notes, testing each other on key concepts. It was shockingly productive, especially considering the electric tension in the room.

Then Orm declared they needed a short study break—just ten minutes to rest their eyes, stretch, grab some water. Except that "ten minutes" turned into Orm casually lying across the couch, arms stretched overhead in a way that definitely drew Lingling's attention.

"Are you okay, baby?" Orm asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Lingling froze at the word "baby," her brow creasing. "You're getting bold," she remarked, shifting her position so she could see Orm better.

Orm, feeling a surge of audacity, propped herself on her elbows. "Just making sure you're still... focused."

Lingling's expression turned wickedly amused. "If you're going to distract me, Orm, at least do it properly."

Before Orm could retort, Lingling leaned in and kissed her—no preamble, no gentle build-up. Just a firm, lingering press of lips that made Orm's thoughts scatter in all directions.

Her "no funny business" rule? Shattered to pieces.

In seconds, Orm found herself forgetting every line of econ data she'd memorized. She moaned softly against Lingling's mouth, tangling her fingers in Lingling's hair. Lingling grinned between kisses, clearly reveling in the effect she had on Orm.

"Well," Orm gasped, arching slightly to meet Lingling's mouth again, "there goes studying."

Lingling smirked. "I'm learning a lot, actually."

Orm managed a breathy laugh. "What, that you can't keep your hands off me?"

"That you talk too much," Lingling teased, kissing Orm's jawline.

Orm let out a low chuckle. "You're insufferable."

"And yet," Lingling murmured, pulling Orm onto her lap, "you're still letting me do this."

Orm had no comeback. Because in that moment, Lingling resumed the kiss, and all of Orm's witty remarks died on her tongue.

Time lost meaning. Orm wasn't sure how many minutes passed with them tangled together, her attempts at conversation melting into half-formed words whenever Lingling's lips trailed down her neck. The couch had plenty of space, but they huddled in one corner like the world's most comfortable jigsaw puzzle.

Midterms? They'd effectively left the building.

Eventually, Orm managed to break away just enough to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed. "We're supposed to be studying," she mumbled, though it lacked any real conviction.

Lingling inhaled, eyeing her like a cat that had cornered a particularly tasty mouse. "I'm studying your reactions."

Orm rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. "Ugh, you're impossible. Fine. Let's at least pretend to be academic for a bit."

Lingling chuckled, pulling Orm closer once more. "Sure. In a minute."

Orm responded with a playful shove. "That's what you said five minutes ago."

But Lingling's lips found hers again, and Orm discovered that maybe, just maybe, midterms could wait a bit longer.

Orm glanced at the wall clock—it was well past midnight, and the last few hours had vanished in a haze of note-taking and talk of looming deadlines. A single lamp cast a soft glow on the walls, stretching their shadows until they looked like figures in a low-lit stage scene. She rolled her stiff shoulders, feeling the late hour in every muscle.

"It's late," she said, stifling a yawn behind her hand. "You should just stay over."

Lingling, leafing through a bulky law textbook, arched an eyebrow. The overhead light picked out the delicate angles of her face, lending her a mischievous air. "Are you asking me to spend the night?" she inquired, her voice edged with playful intrigue.

Orm tried to keep her composure despite the flutter in her chest. "Yes, but—no funny business," she warned, fighting the warmth flooding her cheeks.

Lingling neatly closed the textbook and placed it atop a meticulously organized stack. "You really think that'll stop me from teasing you?" she asked with a slow, knowing smile.

Orm gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. "I was hoping," she admitted, slightly exasperated.

A soft chuckle escaped Lingling as she stood, stretching her arms overhead. "Fine," she said, "I'll behave. Only because I don't feel like leaving." Something in her gaze made Orm swallow hard; it hinted at a shared secret no one else would know.

They spent a few minutes tidying up, tucking away papers and pens before heading to Orm's bedroom. The place was modestly neat: a few plush toys perched on a dresser, stacks of economics textbooks on a small shelf. Lingling took it all in with a glance before focusing on Orm, who turned to rummage through her dresser for spare clothes.

Orm slipped under the covers first, sliding over to give Lingling room. The mattress dipped when Lingling joined her, choosing the spot closest to Orm. Beneath the thin blanket, their proximity felt immediate and charged.

Lingling's dark eyes flicked to Orm's face. "Still sure about that 'no funny business' rule?" she asked, her tone lowering with a hint of provocation.

Orm's pulse sped up. "I... said maybe we should wait," she managed, her voice tighter than she liked.

Lingling studied Orm's mouth, then lifted a hand to trace along her jawline—a feather-light touch that made Orm's pulse thrum in her ears.

Time seemed to shrink down to just this bed, just them. Lingling's fingertips drifted from Orm's jaw to her collarbone in a slow, almost leisurely path. Each inch of movement made Orm's breath catch.

"You're nervous," Lingling whispered, a blend of gentle teasing and genuine concern coloring her words.

Orm tried to deny it, but her voice wavered. "I'm not," she said, though it sounded far from convincing.

Lingling offered a small, knowing smirk. Leaning in, noses close, she murmured, "Liar," and then sealed the distance between them.

The kiss was different from their usual quick brushes. It felt unhurried, as if Lingling wanted to savor every second. A quiet moan escaped Orm's throat, and she relaxed against the pillow. Her hand gripped Lingling's shirt, holding on as if the night might slip away too soon.

Yet the tender kiss soon intensified. One moment, Orm's fingers were curled around a sleeve; the next, they were tangled in Lingling's hair. Lingling responded by sliding an arm around Orm's waist, pulling her closer until their legs intertwined beneath the sheets. The warmth of Lingling's palm pressed against Orm's lower back, sending a jolt up her spine.

Orm took a shuddering breath, heat flooding her face as Lingling's lips trailed along her jaw and down the curve of her neck. Each press of Lingling's mouth felt like a question: Is this okay? And Orm's every movement said, Yes, but—

But. A part of her mind still whispered hesitation. She wanted it, no doubt, but a flicker of caution made her body still. Her hands, once roaming freely, stilled at Lingling's shoulders.

Lingling picked up on it instantly, halting her movements. She pulled back enough to meet Orm's eyes, her expression shifting to concern. "Orm?" she asked softly.

Orm inhaled, forcing her heart rate to slow. She adored Lingling—her confidence, her wit, her tenderness. But a line she wasn't ready to cross hovered here, and she needed to acknowledge it. "Maybe... we should wait," she whispered, voice catching on the last word.

Lingling paused, studying her. Orm worried she might have gone too far, but then she saw Lingling's gaze soften. Not a teasing glint, not a mocking arch of the brow—just understanding. "Okay," she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Orm's temple.

Orm's chest flooded with relief. "Yeah?" she asked, needing the confirmation.

Lingling nodded, adjusting so they lay facing each other. Though their hearts still pounded, the urgency ebbed, replaced by a quiet closeness. Their breathing slowed, aligning in a rhythm that felt intimate in its own right.

They stayed like that for a while—saying nothing, content just to feel the other's presence in the lamp's soft glow. Orm traced the outline of Lingling's silhouette with her eyes, from the curve of her lips to the steady rise and fall of her shoulders.

Eventually, Orm eased nearer, resting her head against Lingling's shoulder. Lingling's hand found its way to Orm's back, stroking small, comforting circles. The warmth and comfort of it all eased away the tension of the day, leaving only a tender sense of connection.

"It's not about rushing," Orm murmured into the quiet. "I want it to be right when it happens."

Lingling's voice, low and reassuring, resonated softly. "I understand."

In that comfortable stillness, Orm felt more intimate with Lingling than she had at any other moment that night. It was a closeness sealed not by passion alone, but by shared reassurance and gentle acceptance. A slow, welcome calm settled over them.

As her eyes drifted shut, Orm heard Lingling's whisper: "Goodnight, baby."

A small, sleepy grin formed on Orm's lips. "Using that against me?" she teased.

Lingling's low chuckle vibrated against Orm's cheek. "Fair play, sweetheart."

A peaceful weightlessness swept over Orm. She let the tension roll off her shoulders, letting the night cloak them in a sense of promise—of something not yet fully explored but beautifully on the horizon.

She fell asleep warmer and calmer than she'd felt in a long time, aware that morning would bring all sorts of teasing, questions from Becky and May, and new challenges in the ongoing flirt wars. But for now, everything felt just right, suspended in a hush of contentment and the quiet thrill of what almost happened.

Bright morning light streamed through the café windows, illuminating the scattered throng of midterm-weary students. Becky and May sat at a corner table, nursing lattes that did little to mask their own fatigue. Yet neither looked half as exhausted as Orm did when she trudged in.

She wore her usual hoodie and jeans, but her eyes were glassy with sleep-deprivation. Slumping into the seat across from Becky, she let out a groan, as though she'd just scaled a mountain.

"You look... tired," Becky observed, one brow quirking up.

May narrowed her eyes. "So what exactly happened last night?"

Orm attempted a casual sip of her coffee. "Nothing. Just studying." She tried to sound blasé, but her slight hesitation set off her friends' alarms.

Becky and May exchanged knowing glances, then leaned in unison across the table. "Liar."

Orm managed a shaky laugh, avoiding eye contact by fiddling with the cuff of her hoodie. "Seriously, it's nothing major. I was just up late, reading."

Before Becky or May could press further, the café door chimed, and in sauntered Lingling—posture calm as ever but wearing something completely unexpected: Orm's clothes.

She had on a baggy sweatshirt and lounge pants, an outfit that looked miles away from her usual crisp law-student uniform.

May's jaw nearly dropped into her cup. "Oh. My. God."

Becky froze with her latte raised halfway, blinking as if doubting her own eyes. "Is she wearing—Orm's clothes?"

Orm forced a grin. "Morning, baby," she greeted, voice catching on the last syllable. Her cheeks burned at the realization of just how cozy Lingling looked in her sweatshirt.

Lingling walked over, leaned down, and pressed a light, almost territorial kiss to Orm's temple, as if it were the most mundane morning ritual. "Morning," she said softly, settling in beside Orm without a hint of self-consciousness.

Becky cleared her throat loudly. "Lingling, nice outfit," she ventured, eyeing the borrowed clothes. "You, uh, sleep over somewhere?"

With the same detached calm one might use to discuss the weather, Lingling nodded. "Yes, I stayed at Orm's place. It was late. Seemed more logical than heading back across campus."

May's eyes flicked to Orm, practically vibrating with questions. "So you two just... studied all night?" she asked, voice tinged with suspicion.

Lingling shrugged, helping herself to Orm's spare coffee. "We covered quite a lot," she remarked, glancing at Orm with a tiny gleam in her eye. "Though we may have taken several breaks—worthwhile ones, too."

Becky's brow shot up. "Worthwhile breaks, huh?" she echoed, a note of scandal creeping into her tone.

Orm tried to disappear into her hoodie. "We, uh, needed to rest our brains," she mumbled. "Nothing major."

Lingling's lips curved into an almost playful smirk. "Oh, I wouldn't call it nothing," she said, her voice cool and conversational, as though referencing the midterm schedule. "We studied... thoroughly." Her emphasis on "thoroughly" made May's jaw drop.

"You sure you're just talking about midterms?" May gasped.

Lingling tilted her head in a show of mild curiosity. "Of course. Although, we might have reviewed some more... practical material." Her eyes slid to Orm, who looked ready to vanish into the floor.

Becky all but slapped her hands on the table. "Are you two even hearing yourselves? Orm is about to keel over from exhaustion, and you're acting like it's nothing."

Lingling let out a soft laugh, her expression serene. "She looked cute tired," she offered simply. "I didn't mind."

Orm could feel every cell in her body burning. "Could we not?" she begged under her breath, mouth gone dry.

May leaned in, undeterred. "So are you saying you... you know... did stuff—like, a lot of times?" she asked, sounding both thrilled and horrified.

Lingling, still maddeningly unruffled, folded her arms. "That depends on your definition of 'a lot of times,'" she answered, her voice a blend of amusement and mischief. "But yes, we had a productive night."

Becky's eyes practically bulged. "Oh my gosh, Orm!"

Orm buried her face in her hands. "Stop it," she hissed. "We literally just—" She broke off, scrambling for a believable explanation. "We were being... practical," she finished lamely.

Lingling gave a leisurely shrug, looking at Becky and May as though the conversation bored her. "Practical, sure. Very in-depth studying, you might say."

May looked on the verge of fainting, while Becky groaned dramatically, torn between exasperation and perverse fascination. Lingling's borrowed clothes only confirmed how comfortable she must have been, and the image of Orm as a sleep-deprived wreck told its own story.

After a beat of awkward silence, Becky tapped her fingers on the table. "I mean, come on, at least act like this is unusual. You're basically wearing Orm's entire wardrobe."

Lingling didn't even blink. "Why would it be unusual?" she responded lightly. "It's comfortable. After everything last night, it felt natural to slip into something"—she paused for effect—"familiar."

Becky and May collectively gasped, while Orm squeezed her eyes shut, praying the ground would swallow her. She's doing this on purpose, Orm thought, recognizing the smug tilt of Lingling's mouth.

Finally, May slumped in her seat, covering her face with one hand. "I am not ready for this power couple energy at nine in the morning."

Becky fervently nodded. "And the campus isn't, either."

Lingling pushed her chair back and rose gracefully, reaching to pat Orm's shoulder. "Relax," she said in a low, teasing tone. Then she bent to kiss Orm's cheek—calm as if it were the most normal greeting—before stepping away. "I'll see you after class, sweetheart."

Orm held her breath until Lingling exited, the café door swinging shut behind her. Becky and May stared, jaws slack, then simultaneously rounded on Orm.

"Explanation, now, young lady," Becky demanded, eyes glinting with too much excitement.

Orm groaned, hiding her face in her palms. "She's the worst," she muttered. "She's making it sound like we—like we—" She couldn't even finish, cheeks burning.

May tried to sound understanding. "Well, if you did, no judgment here, but you look absolutely drained. Are you okay?"

Orm made a halfhearted attempt at a reassuring smile. "Yeah. She just likes winding me up. And maybe I... like letting her."

Becky and May exchanged a wry look. Becky patted Orm's arm, grinning. "You two are total trouble, you know that?"

May raised her coffee in a mock toast. "Here's to the unstoppable power couple."

Orm slumped deeper into her seat, but she couldn't help a small, shy smile. Embarrassed or not, she wouldn't trade the night (or even the teasing aftermath) for anything.