By the next Monday, the rivalry had stopped being my secret and turned into everyone's entertainment.
At lunch, Zoey slid into the seat beside me with a grin too wide to trust. "So… you and Austin."
I sighed. "What about me and Austin?"
"You've been acting like sworn enemies in a Shakespearean tragedy. Don't think we haven't noticed."
Lily snorted. "Honestly, it's the best part of Literature class now. You two arguing like it's the finals of a debate tournament — with sexual tension."
I choked on my juice. "What?!"
Zoey leaned in. "Oh, come on. We all see it. The looks, the sarcasm, the way you both act like if you stop fighting you might actually flirt."
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. "You all need hobbies."
Lily smirked. "We have one. It's called watching you two burn the classroom down with words every Friday."
That was another thing. Literature was a once-a-week subject — every Friday. And that meant every Friday, the classroom became a battlefield. Each time Miss Gloria posed a question, it was like striking a match. One of us would speak first. The other would challenge it. And then it would spiral from there.
Hamlet. Othello. Juliet. Macbeth. None of them were safe from our verbal sparring.
By the second week, even Miss Gloria stopped intervening. She'd just smile like she was watching art happen, arms crossed as the class turned into a courtroom with me and Austin as the only lawyers.
But it wasn't just literature. It was everything.
He answered a question in Economics? I'd raise my hand two minutes later to "expand" (read: correct) his point.
I aced the Civics pop quiz? He got full marks the next week and made very sure I knew it.
He'd walk into Chemistry lab and ask the teacher to "pair him with someone serious this time" — even though we both knew I had the highest score in class.
By Thursday, my friends had created a scoreboard in our group chat:
Annie: 3 | Austin: 3 | Round Seven: Friday.
I pretended to hate it. Pretended it annoyed me. But maybe part of me was starting to live for it.
This rivalry made me more outspoken, more courageous in myself — and it proved to me that I was actually as smart as others, if not nearly a prodigy like Lily. Every time I argued back, I felt sharper. Braver. Like my voice finally had weight.
It was finally Friday a day everyone were anxiously waiting for.
I walked in and found him already seated. Our usual desk. Middle row. Too close for comfort. Too close for indifference.
"Ready to lose?" he said without looking up from his notebook.
"You must be exhausted," I replied, sliding into the chair. "All that arrogance has to be heavy."
He smirked. "I've got strong shoulders."
I looked straight ahead, refusing to smile. I could feel Lily's and Zoey's eyes burning from across the room. I wasn't going to give them anything to screenshot.
Miss Gloria entered with her usual dramatic flair. "Today," she said, "we explore the role of guilt in Macbeth. Who would like to begin?"
I raised my hand — so did he.
We locked eyes.
And just like that, Round Seven began.