"Huh, Someone’s gotten even more full of herself," Jisung muttered under his breath, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned across the desk to tap his pen against her perfectly color-coded notes.

He had spent the entire lecture watching her shoot down anyone who dared speak, correcting even the professor with that clipped, icy tone of hers. She was brilliant—he hated that. Hated the way her eyes never softened, the way she always walked like she owned the place. Most of all, he hated the way she always looked through him like he wasn’t worth the air between them.

“Touch my notes again and I’ll staple your hand to the desk,” she said, not bothering to glance up.

God, she was beautiful even when she was furious. But that didn't even stand a chance of changing how he felt towards her. She was unbearable. Her beauty was just her way of hiding her inner cruelty.

“You know, for someone so smart, you sure talk like you’ve got nothing better to do than pick fights.”

“I’d need an intellectual equal to fight. Unfortunately, all I’ve got is you.”

His grin twitched. Every time she opened that pretty, venomous mouth, it made his blood boil—in the worst, most thrilling way.

One day, he swore, he’d wipe that smug look off her face. And when he beat her—because he would—he’d make sure she remembered who did it.