Theo's pov
I didn't pick the seat next to her on purpose.
The guy who usually sat there—Liam or Lucas or something equally replaceable—was out sick. Probably food poisoning. Probably karma. I saw the empty chair, sat, and then immediately regretted everything about my life.
I didn't even notice her walk in. That's how not obsessed I am.
Until I caught the sound of her bag hitting the floor and that signature annoyed exhale she always did when she saw my face. Like I'd planned it.
"Seriously?" she mumbled.
"Don't flatter yourself. I was here first."
Val Deluca dropped into the chair beside me like gravity was mad at her.
The teacher hadn't shown up yet, so the room was still humming with post-break energy—half the class scrolling through their phones, the other half frantically copying homework off each other. I had mine done. Not because I'm a nerd. Because I had time. Because practice was canceled. Because apparently hell froze over.
I leaned back in my chair, chewing on the end of my pen.
She smelled like cinnamon and cold air. Probably from that rink she loved so much. Princess of the Ice, or whatever they called her when they weren't calling her dramatic.
I glanced sideways.
She was already glaring at me.
"What?" I asked, deadpan.
"Nothing," she said, flipping her notebook open aggressively. "Just trying to figure out what war crime I committed to deserve this seat."
"I'd guess public disturbance."
"Funny. I was going to say existing."
I smirked. "Good to know you're still using that brain. I was starting to worry it froze over."
She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might pop out of her skull.
---
Class started. Mr. Bennett walked in looking like he hated teenagers more than we hated being awake. He threw up a PowerPoint that probably hadn't been updated since 2011.
"The Cold War," he droned. "Wasn't very cold. Wasn't really a war. Discuss."
He always did this—asked one big question, dropped a few names, and let us flail for forty-five minutes while he drank coffee and judged our historical opinions.
I took notes. Val didn't.
She just stared at the board like she could telepathically kill it.
"Want a pen?" I asked under my breath.
"I don't want anything from you."
"Come on. Take it. It's poisoned."
She didn't laugh, but her mouth twitched. Barely. I saw it.
I leaned slightly closer. "Admit it. You'd miss me if I transferred schools."
She turned to me, voice flat. "Only in the way you miss a root canal."
"Root canals are useful. They remove decay."
"And you are decay."
She smiled sweetly. It was terrifying.
---
Halfway through class, Mr. Bennett called on her to answer something about nuclear diplomacy.
She blinked. "Uhh…"
And just because I'm a decent human being—not because I care—I whispered, "Kennan. The long telegram. Containment."
She looked at me, suspicious, but repeated the answer. The teacher nodded and moved on.
She leaned toward me, quiet but sharp.
"Are you helping me so I owe you, or so you can hold it over my head later?"
I shrugged. "Neither. I just hate watching you suffer that much. It's like secondhand embarrassment."
She narrowed her eyes. "I don't need your help."
"Clearly."
---
When the bell finally rang, she bolted out of the chair like she was escaping captivity.
I stayed behind for a second longer. Everyone else filtered out. I took my time packing my bag.
Not because I wanted to avoid her.
Just because I wanted the last word next time.