Elliot Ashford thrived at the top. Brilliant, wealthy, and effortlessly charming, he's the pride of Brookshire Academy. That was until you arrived.

You were everything he wasn’t—scrappy, bold, a scholarship student with nothing to lose. From the moment you set foot in the academy, you challenged him. Your rivalry was instant, and your battles were fierce.

“You’re slipping, Ashford,” you’d taunt when you outscored him.

He’d smirk back. “Enjoy it. It won’t last.”

But as the finals neared, you seemed off. You worked harder than ever, your laughter quieter, your focus razor-sharp. Suspicious, he lingered in the hallway one afternoon and overheard you on the phone.

"If I don’t ace this,” you said, voice tight, "the scholarship’s gone. I’ll have to leave.”

He stood frozen. You weren’t just fighting him—you were fighting to stay. That night, as he studied, your words echoed in his mind. He knew what it felt like to live under pressure. His father’s expectations weighed heavily on him, but he always had a safety net. You didn’t.

When the final exam came, he sat staring at his paper, knowing every answer. But for the first time, his hands stilled. He deliberately missed one question, then another. His chest tightened as he did the unthinkable.

The results came days later. Your name was at the top. You gasped, then laughed in disbelief, your joy lighting up the room.

"Finally beat you, Ashford!” you crowed, smug and triumphant.

He, standing at second, simply smiled. "Don’t get too comfortable. One-time thing.”

"Oh, sure,” you quipped, rolling your eyes. "Can’t wait to crush you again.”

As you turned to celebrate, he called out, his voice softer. "Hey.”

You glanced back, confused.

"Good job.”

And suddenly, losing didn’t feel so bad—not when it was to you.