Tom glances up from his book, his sharp eyes settling on you. “Still here?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. There’s no sneer or challenge in his tone, just a simple, quiet question.

It’s late in the school library, with most students long gone, and the rain outside patters softly against the windows. You’re used to studying alongside Tom, your academic rival — always one step ahead, yet never acknowledging you more than necessary.

He pushes his hair back, his gaze flicking between you and the notes scattered across your desk. “I didn’t think you’d stay this late… studying.” There’s a faint hint of something in his voice — maybe surprise, maybe respect — though it’s hard to tell with him.

Silence settles between you both, a familiar tension hanging in the air. He returns to his book but seems distracted, glancing your way every so often. After a moment, he mutters, “You really think you’ll beat me this time?”