Amina (narration):

The classroom was loud until he walked in.

Kieran.

Perfect posture. Perfect jawline. Perfectly annoying.

And of course—he headed straight for my seat.

He stops in front of me, eyes cold.

Kieran:

“…You’re in my seat.”

Amina:

“Last time I checked, the chairs don’t have your name tattooed on them.”

Kieran:

“They might as well. Everyone knows I sit here.”

Amina:

“Well, today you don’t.”

I cross my arms. His eyebrow twitches—he hates being challenged.

Good.

He leans slightly closer. Way too close.

Kieran (low):

“Move.”

Amina:

“No.”

Silence. Everyone in class turns.

He smirks, slow and dangerous.

Kieran:

“Fine. Don’t move.”

(leans over my desk)

“But don’t cry when you lose the debate today.”

Amina:

“Oh, sweetheart… I don’t lose.”

(smiles sweetly)

“And especially not to you.”

His jaw clenches.

Amina (narration):

The professor enters—thank God—interrupting our stare-war.

We sit. And unfortunately… he sits right beside me.

Of course he does.

Professor Hale:

“Today’s topic: Should campus competitions be mandatory?

Kieran and Amina—you’re up first.”

I freeze.

He smirks without even turning his head.

Amina:

“You planned this.”

Kieran:

“I don’t need to plan to beat you.”

Amina:

“Keep dreaming.”

We walk to the front of the class, standing side by side.

Too close.

His shoulder brushes mine—accidentally?

I don’t know.

I just know my heart jumps.

Annoying.

Professor Hale:

“Amina, you may begin.”

I inhale, raise my chin, and speak clearly.

Amina:

“Competitions motivate students, encourage teamwork, and build confidence.

They should absolutely be mandatory.”

A few nods.

Kieran watches me like he’s calculating every breath.

His turn.

Kieran:

“Mandatory competition does not create confidence.

It creates stress, resentment, and burnout.”

He talks smoothly, voice calm, controlled, annoyingly perfect.

Amina (interrupting):

“You’re assuming all students are weak.”

Kieran:

“And you’re assuming all students are like you—loud and reckless.”

Amina:

“At least I’m not boring.”

Laughter erupts.

His eyes darken.

He steps closer.

Kieran (soft but sharp):

“I’d rather be boring than delusional.”

The class gasps.

Amina (narration):

Okay.

That one actually hurt.

Just a tiny bit.

But I won’t let him see that.

I smile sweetly.

Amina:

“At least I don’t cry when someone beats me.”

Kieran:

“I don’t cry.”

Amina:

“You did last semester.”

Kieran:

“That was ONE time—”

The class explodes with laughter.

His ears turn red.

Victory.

Professor Hale:

“Enough!

Both of you made your points. The class will vote.”

We return to our seats.

He sits stiffly, jaw tight.

Kieran:

“You’re impossible.”

Amina:

“Thank you.”

Kieran:

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

Amina:

“I took it as one.”

He looks at me for a long moment…

Then, unexpectedly, he chuckles.

A real, soft, genuine laugh.

…Why is that attractive?

No.

Nope.

Erase that thought.

Professor Hale:

“The class voted.

Winner: Amina.”

Silence.

He turns slowly toward me.

Kieran:

“I hope you enjoyed this victory.”

(leans in close)

“Because it’s the last one you’re getting.”

Amina:

“We’ll see, golden boy.”

His eyes flick to my lips, just for half a second.

He swallows.

And just like that—

The rivalry officially begins.

CHAPTER 2 — “THE PARTNER CURSE”

Amina (narration):

The universe hates me.

That is the ONLY explanation.

Because right after I beat Kieran in the debate…

Professor Hale drops the bomb.

Professor Hale:

“For the semester project, you will work in pairs.”

(checks list)

“Kieran and Amina.”

Silence.

Then—

Amina:

“…No.”

Kieran:

“Absolutely not.”

Professor Hale:

“Too bad. This is final.”

We both turn to him at the same time.

Amina & Kieran:

“WE’RE NOT WORKING TOGETHER!”

Professor Hale:

“You two argue like you’re married. You’ll be fine.”

The class laughs.

Amina (narration):

I want to sink into the floor.

Kieran runs a hand through his hair, frustrated—

and I hate that the move looks… good.

No.

Focus.

We sit beside each other, arms crossed, refusing to speak.

Finally—

Amina:

“Let’s get one thing straight: I’m not doing everything alone.”

Kieran:

“And I’m not carrying your chaotic, unorganized energy.”

Amina:

“Chaotic? Excuse me—that’s called creativity.”

Kieran:

“It’s called a mess.”

Amina:

“At least I’m not a robot.”

He stares at me, annoyed.

I stare back.

Neither of us blinks.

Kieran:

“…Can we act like adults for five minutes?”

Amina:

“I am acting like an adult. You’re just allergic to compromise.”

He breathes in slowly, fighting a smile.

Kieran:

“Fine. Let’s start.”

(pulls notebook)

“We need a topic.”

Amina:

“We already have one: ‘The Psychological Effects of Competition.’”

Kieran:

“You just want to prove you were right in the debate.”

Amina:

“And you just don’t want to lose again.”

He pauses.

Looks at me.

Silent.

I can SEE the internal screaming.

Kieran:

“…Whatever. That topic works.”

Amina:

“Oh? The great Kieran agreeing with me? Someone write this down.”

Kieran:

“You’re impossible.”

Amina:

“You keep saying that like it’s new.”

He tries not to smile.

Fails.

Amina (narration):

We spend the next hour discussing methods, research angles, deadlines…

We actually work well together…

Which is terrifying.

Every time our hands accidentally brush, I pretend not to feel the electric shock.

He pretends too.

But I see the way his eyes flick down.

Suddenly—

Kieran:

“You have ink on your cheek.”

Amina:

“Oh—where?”

He reaches out before thinking.

His thumb brushes my skin.

Warm.

Gentle.

Soft.

We both freeze.

His eyes widen—like he didn’t mean to touch me.

I feel my breath catch.

Kieran (quiet):

“…There.”

My heart is doing gymnastics.

Stupid heart.

I pull back quickly.

Amina:

“Don’t touch me.”

Kieran:

“You didn’t move.”

Amina:

“I was surprised!”

Kieran:

“Mmh. Sure.”

He smirks.

I want to hit him.

Or kiss him.

Maybe both.

The professor dismisses class.

Kieran stands, gathering his things.

Kieran:

“We’ll work on the project after school. Library. 5 PM.”

Amina:

“You’re assuming I’m free.”

Kieran:

“You are free. You don’t have a social life.”

Amina:

“Excuse me—”

Kieran:

“See? Not denying it.”

I shove his arm lightly.

He looks… surprised.

Almost amused.

Amina:

“Fine. 5 PM. But don’t be late.”

Kieran:

“I’m never late.”

Amina:

“You were born late.”

Kieran:

“And you were born loud.”

We glare.

He steps back…

But before leaving, he turns his head.

Just a glance.

Quick, sharp, electric.

Kieran:

“…Good job today.”

And he’s gone.

Leaving me staring at the door like an idiot.

Amina (narration):

If Chapter 1 was war…

Chapter 2 is something much more dangerous:

The beginning of us.

CHAPTER 3 — “5 PM TROUBLE”

Amina (narration):

The library at 5 PM is usually quiet.

Today?

It’s chaos.

Students everywhere, tables full, noise rising—

and Kieran sitting in the back, reading like he owns the building.

He doesn’t notice me at first.

Good.

I walk up slowly.

Amina:

“You’re early.”

Kieran:

“I told you. I’m never late.”

(looks up)

“You’re two minutes early. Impressive.”

Amina:

“Are you… complimenting me?”

Kieran:

“Don’t push it.”

He slides a chair toward me with his foot.

Not romantically.

More like ‘sit here before you annoy me.’

I sit.

We open our laptops.

Amina (narration):

For ten whole minutes, we work in silence.

No insults.

No arguing.

No tension.

It’s terrifying.

Then—

Someone approaches.

A tall guy.

Pretty smile.

Athletic.

And he stops right beside me.

Unknown guy:

“Hey. Amina, right?”

Kieran’s eyes lift instantly.

Amina:

“Uh… yes?”

Unknown guy:

“I saw your debate earlier. You were incredible.”

I blink.

Kieran freezes.

Jealousy level: IMMEDIATE.

Amina:

“Oh—thank you!”

Unknown guy:

“I was wondering if maybe… sometime… you’d like to study together?

Or get coffee?”

Kieran sits up STRAIGHT.

He doesn’t speak.

But his jaw does a little tick-tick-tick movement.

Amina:

“Oh—um—”

Kieran (calm but icy):

“She’s busy.”

We both turn to him.

Amina:

“Excuse me?”

Kieran:

“We have a semester project. Heavy schedule. No time for… coffee.”

Unknown guy:

“Oh. I—I didn’t realize.”

Amina:

“Kieran, I can talk for myself.”

Kieran:

“I’m aware. I’m helping.”

Amina:

“You’re interfering.”

Kieran (low):

“You’re welcome.”

I glare.

He glares.

The guy awkwardly backs away.

Amina (narration):

As soon as he leaves, I turn to Kieran with fire in my soul.

Amina:

“What was THAT?!”

Kieran:

“What?”

Amina:

“You chased him away!”

Kieran:

“He annoyed me.”

Amina:

“He ANNNOYED you? That’s your excuse?”

Kieran:

“He interrupted our work.”

Amina:

“He asked me for COFFEE!”

Kieran (cold):

“He wanted more than coffee.”

My jaw drops.

His eyes flick to mine—challenging, sharp.

Amina:

“And what if he did? That’s none of your business.”

Kieran:

“It is if it affects our project.”

Amina:

“Liar.”

Kieran:

“Excuse me?”

Amina:

“You’re jealous.”

He blinks.

A tiny breath escapes him—

almost a choke.

Kieran:

“I’m not jealous.”

Amina:

“You SO are.”

Kieran:

“I don’t get jealous.”

Amina:

“Your jaw says otherwise.”

He touches his jaw subconsciously.

Caught.

Kieran:

“You’re imagining things.”

Amina:

“Am I?”

I lean forward.

He goes still.

Eyes locked.

No blinking.

His voice drops to a whisper.

Kieran:

“Don’t… test me.”

My heart flips.

Amina (narration):

The silence between us turns thick.

Warm.

Dangerous.

He looks away first—just barely.

Then—

Kieran:

“Let’s work.”

Amina:

“Fine.”

But we both know neither of us is focused anymore.

Half an hour later, I stretch my arms—

and pain shoots through my wrist.

Amina:

“Ah—!”

Kieran (instantly):

“What? What happened?”

He grabs my hand gently, checking.

Amina:

“It’s nothing—just a cramp—”

Kieran:

“No, leave it.”

(holds her wrist carefully)

“You type too fast.”

Amina:

“So now you care?”

Kieran (quiet):

“…Obviously.”

My breath catches.

His fingers are warm around my wrist.

Too warm.

He realizes it and lets go fast.

Kieran:

“You need a break.”

Amina:

“I’m fine.”

Kieran:

“Amina.”

The way he says my name—

deep, soft, serious—

sends a shiver down my spine.

Kieran:

“Take a break.”

I obey without meaning to.

Amina (narration):

Chapter 3 ends with one question stuck in my head:

Why does the boy who hates me…

look at me like that?