Love, Your Rival.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

If arrogance had a face, it would be his—unfortunately, it was a very pretty one.

I had just entered the classroom when Theron's face caught my eye—right next to my seat. It seemed we had free seating, and he and his so-called "boys" (he didn't really have boys; some group just kind of adopted him) had chosen the back as the best place to sit. Everyone knew I usually sat exactly two seats from the window, in the very back. It helped me focus since I could be near the sunlight, and people were less likely to ask me for favors—though that didn't really help.

"Your handwriting is horrible," I sighed, slumping into my chair. It was cushioned and newly replaced, but students from another class had managed to stab a pencil through the seat as a prank, leaving a bite-sized hole on the side. It was impressive how these students had the time for pencil warfare with finals coming up.

As I finished my thought, my eyes landed on the boy next to Theron. He wore a strange expression, like he couldn't believe I existed. I didn't think I'd done anything wrong—and that's when it hit me.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking. Your handwriting is amazing."
Before I could say more, Theron cut me off.

"I don't really care."

Those words hit me like a bullet. I was about to give my award-winning apology and work my charm once again, but something tugged at my heartstrings.

The room was quiet, but my mind raced with anxiety. I hated it when people disliked me. But did he actually hate me that much? What had I done to him? And why had I even said that? His handwriting wasn't neat, but it was strangely beautiful. It felt like letters sent home after a long journey. Like an unfinished confession. Like someone loving you in the exact way you wanted to be loved.

That last thought stopped me cold. Was I being delusional? I was probably still dreaming. No way would someone like me think about him that way. How could someone so cold feel like home? How could such an unfeeling soul love? And why did I even care?

Before I could answer the questions swirling in my mind, Mr. Rango started class.

"Good morning, students. How's everyone doing?"

Almost in sync, the entire class went quiet and responded like a single unit.

Mr. Rango was the only teacher who actually cared, so we respected him—even when we didn't want to. The rest of the teachers either took breaks or handed out assignments and called it "studying." The only thing they did well was grading—they made sure you lost every point you deserved and made projects a living hell.

It made sense since this was a gifted school. Students came from all over because of their talents. Some were incredible artists; others could solve calculus problems in seconds. Everyone here belonged because they were gifted.

"Today, we'll talk about the project—the one designed for students who want to finish the year with a B or higher. Except our star students, of course. They won't need it."

He gave a slight nod toward me and Theron before continuing.

"This project will consist of writing anonymous letters to people in your grade. Please sign up anytime during class today. But first, can everyone who thinks they'll do the project raise their hands?"

The only sound I heard was the crickets outside.

Come on. I thought students would love this. Honestly, what's the difference between this and Tinder—except you're writing to a peer? Who knows, maybe you'd even find a best friend or a partner. Not like that would happen to me.