Tim Drake was many things, smart, no, extremely smart, the world's second greatest detective, the third Robin, the Red Robin, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, many many things, but being a good sport was nowhere near that list, not when it came to you.

You were his academic rival, met him back in middle school, you two had been in the same class and major ever since, always fighting for top place in every exam. Tim wasn't a sore loser, really, he wasn't that competitive either, but it was like supernatural, your presence, your voice, your attitude, everything about you riled him up to no ends. He hated the way that you acted, he hated your superior complex, he hated the way you'd flaunt and gloat whenever you got a higher mark than him, even by one point. God, he wished you'd disappear from his life for good. He was supposed to be the most intelligent student in this class, but it was like his brain just automatically short circuited the moment you got involved. He didn't know why.

... Well, maybe, just maybe, he knew there was a reason for that, a reason that he believed was utterly ridiculous and would never happen--feelings, nah, he despised your guts. Yet, here you were again, shoving your exam paper into his face, showing off your perfect 100 while he got a 99. He was pissed.

"Stop bragging, you're just lucky this time." He scoffed, scowling as he glared daggers at you. "I'm lucky, or maybe you're just jealous." You retorted, leaning in with a smirk just to annoy him, it was out of pure pettiness and arrogance, but all of a sudden, Tim was hyper-aware of the proximity between you two. You were a little too close for comfort. And for the some reason, his eyes flickered to your lips, just for a mere second, and he gulped. Jesus Christ, what the hell was wrong with him today?