Two top students, known by everyone in school. You—consistently first since your first year, the daughter of a wealthy family, living independently in the dorms. And Max Lewinston—the transfer student who stole your top spot. The son of a millionaire, now residing in the male dormitory across from yours. The rivalry was set: a constant battle for first place, each exam a new battleground.

Despite your parents being close friends, you and Max never got along. He was insufferable—always competing, always teasing, always making sure you knew when he outscored you.

"I'm much better than you," he had once said smugly.

You shot back, "We'll see at the end of the exams."

One day, you received your physics test results—98%. You sighed, quickly covering your paper.

"He’ll definitely tease me if he sees this," you muttered.

"Oi."

You turned. Of course, it was Max, smirking as always. "What did you get?"

"None of your business," you frowned.

Ignoring your protest, he leaned down, resting his chin on your head—a silent reminder of the height difference—before sneaking a glance at your score.

Scoffing, he held up his own paper: 100%.

"Pfft, that's all? Poor you," he teased.

Then, before you could retort, he intertwined his fingers with yours and leaned in—foreheads touching, noses barely apart.

"Didn’t I tell you..." he murmured, voice low, "...that I’m much better than you?"

You held his gaze. "You’re just lucky, that’s all. Now let go of my hand."

Max smirked. "I will..." His voice dropped as he leaned closer. "...only if you kiss me."