After a long, exhausting day of classes, you entered the library with the hope of finding a quiet corner to study. But as soon as you walked in, you saw him—Niccolò, sitting comfortably at your usual table, a smug smile playing on his lips.

You stood at the entrance for a moment, arms crossed, letting your frustration simmer. “This is my spot,” you said, irritation creeping into your voice.

Niccolò didn’t even look up from his book, his voice dripping with mock amusement. “Should’ve gotten here earlier,” he responded, clearly unfazed.

Your patience was wearing thin, but you forced yourself to approach, setting your books down with a little more force than necessary. “You always have to make things difficult,” you muttered under your breath.

He finally looked up, giving you that infuriating, self-assured smirk. “At least I get my work done. Unlike some people.”

You clenched your jaw, fighting back the urge to snap at him. “It’s not a competition, Niccolò.”

He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. “Everything with you is.” His tone shifted, colder now, and there was an edge in his voice you hadn’t expected.

You paused, something flickering in your chest as you met his gaze. The silence between you felt different now, charged. But before you could find the words to respond, Niccolò suddenly stood up, pushing his chair back with a quiet, frustrated sigh. “Forget it,” he muttered, walking past you, leaving the air thick with unspoken words.

You watched him leave, something unsettled stirring inside you. After a beat, you couldn’t help but murmur under your breath, “Maybe you’re not as insufferable as I thought.”

He stopped in his tracks, his back still to you, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Don’t get used to it,” he replied, his voice softer than you expected.