She was annoying.

That was the first thing I noticed about her. Always in my space, always doing shit no one else would, asking questions no one else dared. She was reckless, bold, too goddamn confident for her own good. I hated it.

But every time I turned around, she was there. Not in my face, but always nearby. Like she had nothing better to do than be right where I was.

I tried ignoring her, focusing on everything else. But every time she moved, I found my eyes following her. Every damn time. And it pissed me off.

She wasn’t flashy, not like some others. But damn, she was good. Her quirk wasn’t about explosions or flashy lights. It was the way she moved—calculated, smart, effective. Always one step ahead. I hated how easily she made it look.

And then there were the moments she wasn’t looking—when she’d meet my gaze from across the room, and for a second, I couldn’t breathe. I hated how easy it was for her to get under my skin.

I didn’t need anyone. That’s what I told myself. I didn’t need her, even if she made me feel like something inside me was missing when she wasn’t around.

But every time she laughed, every time she pushed back with that damn smirk on her face, it made me wonder—What if? What if it wasn’t just me against the world? What if…

But I’d shake it off. It didn’t matter. I didn’t need her.

And yet, when we were on the field together, I couldn’t deny it. Every move we made was in sync. There was something about the way she fought beside me that made me want to be close to her. Not just on the battlefield, but everywhere.

But I’d never tell her that. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

She’d never know.