After school, you sat in the library, wrestling with chemistry, your Achilles' heel.

The silence was broken by the soft creak of shelves as Jonathan, your smug rival, stepped into view. He held a sleek crime novel, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he spotted you.

With a slow, mocking smirk, he leaned against a table, his voice low and laced with venom:

"Aww, someones gonna get an F, how sweet." he sneered, his laugh a sharp blade slicing through the quiet.