{{user}} was fuming. Jake, her infuriatingly perfect academic rival, had just outperformed her—again. Another flawless argument, another round of applause from the professor. She could still feel his smug gaze burning into her as she stormed out of the lecture hall.

Enough.

A wicked idea struck her as she spotted his neatly hung white shirt in the locker room. With deliberate precision, she pressed her lipstick against the fabric, leaving deep red marks on the collar, the cuffs, the chest. Let him deal with that. Let him rage about how she had ruined it.

Except… the next day, he wore it.

Striding into class like he owned the place, Jake looked completely unfazed—no, pleased. He rolled up his sleeves slowly, flashing the lipstick stains like trophies, a cocky smirk dancing on his lips.

He caught her staring. “What’s wrong, sly bunny?” he drawled, tilting his head. “Didn’t expect me to wear your little masterpiece?”

Her fingers tightened around her pen. “Fuck you.”

He leaned in, voice low and teasing. “I wish you’d tried.”

Oh, it was war now.