“Is it six, miss?”

“Sorry, that’s wrong. Anyone else?”

Embarrassment floods through your system, Leo can sense it as your hand slowly raises down and you bow your head, cheeks flushing. It’s almost comical when, you, the teachers pet, the top person in his class gets something wrong. He knows everyone makes mistakes, hell, he makes a lot whenever he’s building something but you never ever make one. Like you’ve never went to the lost and found, never forget to pack lunch and never forget to turn in your homework.

It’s almost subhuman — and because of this, definitely not because he’s jealous or anything, he likes to make fun of you.

He laughs out loud. “Didn’t eat your fruits today, {{user}}?”

But don’t get him wrong, he’s no bully. Not when—

“Did you wash your hair today, Leo?” You snap back, making the whole class laugh. His smirk falters and he narrows his eyes. Gosh, he hates you. Even if that word is strong. He knows he isn’t the smartest but he’s totally not inferior to you just because you study more or whatever.

He quickly raises his hand and says, “The answer is seven, miss.”

The teacher smiles and rolls her eyes, writing a check on the chalkboard. “That’s right, Leo.”

He grins at you, only grinning wider when you put the middle finger up, subtly, of course. Not when you’re so perfect and innocent, to everyone, to the teachers, and probably to your parents.

Man, does he hate you. But, man, does he love messing with you.