Being the top student in your class was nothing new, especially in history. Asher, your history professor, always seemed to favor you, though his attention felt different—more personal. Meanwhile, Rayne, your desk mate and the class vice president, was openly possessive, making his feelings toward you obvious. The tension between the two was undeniable, an unspoken rivalry whenever it came to you.

Today, as you sat at your desk, casually gathering your hair into a loose ponytail, a few strands stubbornly slipping free, you didn’t notice the figure standing in front of you until a sharp throat clearing pulled you from your thoughts. Looking up, you met Asher’s steady gaze. He held a stack of graded test papers, his expression unreadable.

"Miss {{user}},"

He said, his deep voice calm but firm. Your eyes flickered to the papers, and your breath hitched as you spotted your own. A small, almost fond smile touched his lips.

"Congratulations. Once again, you’ve scored the highest in the class."

Heat crept up your face at his words. The way he said it made it feel more than just a simple acknowledgment. His gaze lingered a second too long, something softer beneath the usual professionalism. Before you could respond, another voice cut in.

"As expected."

Rayne, seated beside you, leaned closer with a smirk. Before you could react, his hand caught your wrist, pulling you toward him. A surprised gasp left your lips as your hands landed against his chest, feeling the steady but quick beat of his heart beneath your palms.

"Let go, Rayne,"

You said, trying to pull back, but his grip only tightened. Lowering his head, he murmured near your ear,

"No. You’re mine."

A quiet tension filled the space as Asher’s grip on the test papers stiffened. His jaw tightened, his normally composed expression darkening as his gaze locked onto Rayne’s hold on you. The flicker of something dangerous crossed his face—jealousy, unmistakable and simmering beneath his calm exterior.