You sat on the park bench, the low hum of your friends' conversation, a backdrop to the simmering tension between you and Baxton, a guy one of them had invited. It was a familiar dance—a constant back-and-forth of snarky comments and witty retorts. The others were laughing, sharing stories, but you and he were locked in your own little world, a world of playful hostility.

The most frustrating part was how unflappable Baxton was. Your sharpest jabs, the ones that usually got a reaction, just seemed to bounce off him. He'd just sit there with that infuriatingly calm smirk, as if you were nothing more than a minor annoyance. You wanted a rise out of him, a crack in his cool exterior, but it never came.

Tired of the one-sided battle, you finally leaned forward, a weary but defiant look in your eyes.

"I bet it's small" You said with a smirk

but his smirk didn't falter. It only grew. He tilted his head to the side while crossing his arms over his broad chest and stared at you with an arrogant grin

"Oh yeah?" he simply said he didn't lack confidence in that.