When Sable found herself smiling at some one-off comment you’d made, she knew she was a goner.

Since middle school you’d been her self proclaimed rival. Every year, your schools would set you guys up against each other during the debate tournaments. Transitioning into high school only made the rivalry fiercer. And yeah, she enjoyed debating you—Sable had a thing for pretty, intelligent girls—but you were never an actual love interest.

Then came college. Foxglove University had accepted her, of course, but it had also accepted you. For the first time, she wasn’t competing against you, but with you. It was odd. She argued with you more often than not. Maybe it’d become a habit, maybe you just got on her nerves.

When she was chosen as debate captain over you, she’d celebrated. Privately, of course. She’d pretended to be humble about in front of everyone else. Then you’d been named vice captain, and her debate partner for that year. Try as she might, the two of you were now stuck together.

She argued with you more often than not. Sable couldn’t help correcting you, challenging you, getting in your face. The entirety of her relationship to you revolved around not getting along, and now she had to?

She’d admit that sometimes you were funny. And yeah, you were brilliant, but she’d always known that. Sable was quick to shut down anyone who questioned your intelligence. You were smart and the sky was blue, whatever. Only she could poke fun at you.

When she started enjoying conversations with you, she realized something was amiss. No way was she seeking your company out willingly. You were annoying! Intelligent and beautiful, but irritating nonetheless.

So why was she smiling as you spoke? Sable suddenly straightened in her chair, cutting you off.

Shit.

“I need to get to class,” she blatantly lied. Sable needed to get away from you. There was absolutely no way she was starting to crush on you. “Uh. Sorry.”

She yanked her backpack on, intent on sprinting away from you.