Ace POV
Ace wasn't usually the type to get caught off guard. Not by tests, not by challenges, and certainly not by people. But Mia… Mia was different. She wasn't loud or flashy; she didn't try to command attention. And yet, every time she walked into a room, it was like the world shifted slightly, rearranging itself around her.
He was sitting in the back of the classroom, waiting for the lecture to start, idly flipping through his notebook, but his attention was nowhere near the equations sprawled across the pages. He could feel her presence before he even saw her. Always. That quiet, meticulous way she carried herself, focused and sharp, yet somehow… frustratingly aware of him.
Ace had learned quickly that trying to ignore Mia was a losing battle. She had a way of reading him—of predicting the teasing, the jabs, the challenges he tossed like a shield and a weapon all at once. He had learned to watch her, to study her reactions, to see the subtle flickers of emotion that danced across her face.
And maybe, just maybe, he liked it more than he would ever admit.
He noticed the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating, the way her eyes narrowed in calculation or suspicion. The way she tilted her head ever so slightly when she was trying to decipher what he was thinking. It was infuriating. And it was addictive.
Today, as he watched her enter the classroom and slide into her seat across the room, he felt that familiar tug—the one that made him grin despite himself. She gave him a quick, sharp look, the kind that said, don't even think about it, and yet he thought about it anyway.
Ace leaned back, letting the lecture drone on around him while his eyes lingered. He could tell she was already thinking, already calculating—not numbers, not just equations—but him. How much he'd notice, what he might do next, whether she could best him this time.
He had to admit, there was something thrilling about that.
When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of class, Ace's eyes met hers across the room. For a fraction of a second, the usual tension of their rivalry settled into a quiet acknowledgment: we see each other. Then she was moving, gathering her books, and he followed—almost instinctively.
The library was their inevitable battlefield. The shared project that neither of them could escape. He found a seat beside her, deliberately slow, letting his presence settle near hers like a weight she couldn't ignore.
"You ready for this?" he asked casually, though his tone carried a challenge that she immediately picked up on.
Mia didn't answer right away. She opened her notebook and adjusted her pen, eyes darting to him briefly before looking down again. Ace smirked. She was already tense, already defensive. And he loved it.
They started the project, exchanging observations, debating methods, working in that delicate balance between cooperation and competition. Ace noticed everything: the way her hand hesitated when reaching for a pencil, the subtle shift of her shoulder when he leaned just slightly closer to see her work, the almost imperceptible catch in her breath when their knees brushed under the table.
He shouldn't care. He told himself he shouldn't. And yet, every small reaction, every flicker of awareness, made him more aware of her. More aware of how much space she occupied in his head without even trying.
Ace caught her glancing at him once, then quickly looking away. He held her gaze a moment longer than necessary, just enough to see the brief flicker of something—annoyance? irritation? maybe even curiosity?—before she buried herself back in her work.
It was a dangerous game, this tension between them. Every teasing comment, every accidental touch, every moment of silent proximity was a spark waiting to ignite. And though Ace would never admit it aloud, he found himself leaning into it more than he probably should.
Hours passed. They were still working when the library started to empty, leaving only the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the quiet shuffle of a few late students. Ace glanced at her, observing the way her hair fell over her face, how her brows furrowed in concentration, how her lips pressed into a thin line of determination.
He found himself wanting to reach out—just to brush that stray hair back, to offer a word of encouragement—but he didn't. He couldn't. Not yet. That line between rivalry and… whatever this was… was fragile. He had no desire to break it too soon.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair, letting a slow, teasing smile curl across his face. "You know," he said softly, "we make a pretty good team."
Mia's eyes flicked up at him, narrowing. "Don't let it go to your head," she replied, though there was a subtle note of something else in her tone—something he chose to read as acknowledgment.
Ace stifled a laugh, leaning closer just enough for their shoulders to brush. He could feel the tension in her shift, stiffening for a moment before she readjusted. It was thrilling in a way he couldn't explain—this careful dance of push and pull, of irritation and attention, of awareness without confession.
As they packed up their things and left the library, Ace walked just a step beside her, letting the silence stretch comfortably between them. He noticed the faint tightness in her jaw, the way her fingers lingered on the strap of her bag, the quick glance she stole at him from the corner of her eye.
He wanted to reach out, wanted to say something that would make her look at him fully, but he didn't. Not yet. This was slow. Deliberate. The slow burn of tension between them was the most exciting part—the anticipation, the unspoken challenge, the game of edges and awareness.
Ace's mind wandered back to earlier, to the way her hand had brushed his when they both reached for the same notebook, to the faint flush he'd noticed creeping up her neck without her realizing he'd seen it. Small details. Tiny sparks. He cataloged them carefully, like treasures, because he knew each one mattered. Each one was a reminder that she wasn't just another opponent. She was… something else entirely.
By the time they parted ways outside the library, Ace's grin was carefully controlled. He tipped his head slightly, letting her know he was aware she noticed him, aware that their game was far from over.
Enemies, sure. But he thought as he walked away, a small, private thrill curling in his chest, the line between irritation and… something else… was getting harder and harder to define. And he didn't mind at all.