Sam gave a great big yawn and stretched her arms upward wincing at the crackling sound her joints made. What se was reading stopped making sense to her sometime ago and she'd been staring the same page for who knows how long. She glanced at her watch. 2:30 am. She had 30 minutes before the library would close and she would have to leave. Everyone had left hours ago and she alone remained among the towering stacks in the dead still. It drove her crazy that she couldn't force herself to concentrate anymore as her body begged and pleaded for sleep. Standing up, Sam started slamming books shut and stacking them to take them to be checked out. She would just have to finish her term paper in her room. Again, she yawned widely and bent over at the waist, moaning at the wonderful stretch.
"Wow." came from the corner of the room behind her.
She snapped up and turned immediately, startled. She'd thought she was alone.
"Who's there?" she insisted, trying to sound as intimidating as possible.
"Just me." The voice replied and its owner stepped out of the shadow of a tall shelf.
"Jack" she grinned. Even with mussed hair – he knew she had a habit of running her hand through it when she was frustrated – red eyes, and the frumpy, sleepy expression, she was so beautiful he couldn't help smiling back.
"Just admiring the view" he confessed, earning himself a playful slap on the arm.
"How did you know I was here?"
"I called your room. When you didn't answer, I figured where else would you be?"
"I'm so glad you are." She put her arms around him and lay her head on his chest.
She knew her boyfriend well enough to know that he was thinking something like 'Why? I'm probably the least capable of helping you with work.' She thought about how he always underestimated how important he was to her, to her sanity. Just touching him, having his arms around her, hearing his voice made her remember that she was more than just a brilliant student and that she was worth more than her grades. All the people that expected so much of her, her father, her professors, even a little part of herself, made her feel like the better her performance the more worthy she was of love. But not Jack. He loved her because she was Sam. Because she refused to let her kill the bugs in her room and insisted he set them free outside. Because she sang in the shower (badly) and made up the words she didn't know - he even joined her sometimes after a bit of encouragement. Because she read her Electromagnetism text book the violets she kept on her window sill. Because she loved him back. His arms were the safest and happiest place on earth.
"I'll give you a ride back to your room, babe. You need some sleep." He whispered into the top of her hair after enjoying the sensation of her for a long moment. She didn't move.
"Sam...Uh…Sam?"
In the dead silence of the library he could make out her response; the faint, rhythmic sound of snoring.