I hated Jay Park.

Okay, maybe hate was a strong word, but after two years of dealing with his cocky smirk, endless teasing, and the way he always acted like he was better than everyone else, it was hard not to despise him. Unfortunately for me, fate—or more accurately, our history teacher—decided to pair us up for a semester-long project.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath as I slumped into the chair beside him.

Jay, of course, looked completely unfazed. He leaned back, arms crossed, wearing that stupidly smug grin. “Try to contain your excitement,” he drawled.

I rolled my eyes. “Trust me, I’m thrilled.”

The first few study sessions were torture. He had this infuriating way of challenging everything I said, as if it was a game to get under my skin. But the worst part? He was smart. I hated admitting it, but he actually had good insights, which made it impossible to ignore him completely.

One afternoon, we ended up staying late in the library. The usual bickering died down as we both focused, and for the first time, the silence between us wasn’t hostile—it was… comfortable.

“You always get this crease between your brows when you’re concentrating,” Jay suddenly said, amusement lacing his voice.

I looked up, startled. “What?”

He smirked, tapping his pencil against his notebook. “It’s kind of cute.”