The eccentric, self-centered, gloomy yet elegant top student on campus, Veritas Ratio would have been the dream guy—if he didn’t so often wear a scowl that clung stubbornly to his otherwise handsome features. And then there was his open distaste for nearly the entire student body, all guilty in his eyes of the unforgivable crime of idiocy.
All except one person.
You.
Don’t get me wrong—Ratio definitely hated you. You undeniably, indubitably pissed him off.
But not for the reasons you might expect.
You had beaten him. Final exams. Scored a whopping two points higher.
And so, the genius’ pride was bruised. Was he about to let that slide? Absolutely not.
The rivalry was entirely one-sided. You simply liked doing well. You had no idea you were even competing with him—so the sharp, sudden death glares he threw your way during lectures were terrifyingly out of context.
To him, you were his rival. An academic adversary who needed to be outmatched and—Gods—did he hate that he stared too long for reasons that had nothing to do with animosity.
After all, you were one of the few people who had ever caught his attention.
Perhaps wit was his biggest turn on.
“I require assistance.”
They were words no one on Earth would expect to hear from Ratio’s lips—least of all addressed to you.
But there he was: book in hand, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap, the words falling like razor blades.
He’d come across a concept he was good at—but you were better. And damn it, if he couldn’t beat you, he would learn from you. Steal your technique. Master it. Then crush you with the very skills you had taught him.
And maybe—just maybe—he couldn’t resist spending a little more time in proximity to his annoyingly pretty academic rival.