"This quadratic formula is my personal kryptonite," Jaira groaned, pushing a stray hair back. "Midnight cramming, anyone?"

John, ever the diligent one, barely looked up from his notes. "Did you study for this test?" His question hung heavy.

Jaira flushed. "Skimmed, kinda. You know, the usual last-minute heroics."

John's eyes widened. "Jaira, this is Mr. Chen's test! He throws equations faster than you can say 'derivative.'"

"I know, I know," she sighed dramatically. "But hey, lucky socks, right? Never failed me before."

John snorted. "Those socks won't save you from the quadratic equation. You should have studied."

Shame flickered on Jaira's face, then defiance. "Easy for you, Mr. Perfect Attendance. You probably memorized the textbook."

John chuckled, sympathy softening him. "Not the whole thing, but I put in effort. Look, it's late, but let's team up. Maybe we can salvage this Titanic."

Jaira hesitated, then grinned. "You're a lifesaver. Thanks for not judging."

John winked. "We all procrastinate. Just promise to actually study next time, okay?"

"Deal," Jaira said, holding out her pinky. "And maybe lucky study pants are next."

They laughed, the tension dissipating. With renewed determination, they tackled the formulas, fueled by friendship and a shared mission: to survive Mr. Chen's test, lucky socks or not. The night stretched on, a blur of whispered equations and quiet camaraderie. As the café lights dimmed, the spark of their determination burned brighter.