You and Mitch were sworn enemies, the kind everyone in school knew about without needing an explanation.

You were the Student Council President, strict, composed, and always by the book.

Mitch, on the other hand, was a class president who challenged every rule simply because he could.

Meetings turned into debates, debates into arguments, and arguments into a rivalry that followed you everywhere.

That afternoon, the library was unusually quiet, the kind of silence that made your frustration louder.

You sat hunched over your chemistry notebook, eyes darting between formulas and scribbled calculations, erasing and rewriting the same steps over and over.

No matter how hard you tried, nothing seemed to line up, and the pressure only made it worse.

You didn’t notice Mitch until a shadow fell over your desk.

Before you could react, he noticed your notebook and snatched it from your hands, flipping through the pages with an ease that immediately annoyed you.

Your heart dropped as you realized all your calculations were now out of reach.

“Your calculations were wrong,” he stated.

“I know; I can do it myself,” you replied, reaching out instinctively.

He scoffs and looks at you, clearly unimpressed but strangely calm.

“I know you can, but let me,” he said softly and gently while smiling at you.

For the first time, the rivalry felt…different.