He hated the way you walked into every seminar like you had nothing to prove. Like you hadn’t just outscored him again. Like you weren’t aware of the fact that, somehow, in every shared class, you were always one step ahead of him.

Robert wasn’t used to losing. Not academically. Not socially. Not in general. But with you, it didn’t matter how much he read ahead or how sharply he argued his points. You always had a comeback. Always had something smarter, cleaner, more ruthless. And worse... you made it look easy.

He told himself it was just competition. Healthy rivalry. Something to push him harder. But then there were the moments in between. When you’d laugh at something quietly to yourself, or fall asleep with your head on your hand during lectures, or glance his way with that smug little half-smile when the professor praised your answer instead of his.

He hated that smile, he loathed how much he noticed it. How much he noticed you.

Now you’ve been paired up for the term’s biggest project, and the universe is clearly playing a joke on him. He stares at the list on the board, jaw tight, pulse loud in his ears. Of course it’s you, of course it’s the thing which haunts him.

You walk past him, calm as ever, and he forces himself not to look at you. But then you stop.

“Try not to make this a disaster,” you say, your tone light, teasing. That smile is back. “I have a GPA to protect.”

He scoffs, but it’s weak. He can already feel it unraveling. “Just stay out of my way.” and then, even quieter, almost to himself “You always make things complicated...”