Chapter 2
With a dull thud, the notebook landed in the damp waste paper, its leather cover instantly stained with dirt.
"Don't flatter yourself." She flipped her long, blonde hair, looking down at me with pure disdain. "I brought it home and skimmed through it. It was full of loopholes. Logan, I was just studying my opponent's weaknesses. You didn't actually think I needed your help, did you?"
Whispers erupted around us.
"The ice queen is still the ice queen, huh?"
"The nerd finally tripped. I heard he never lends his notes to anyone, but he made an exception for Chloe."
I stood there, staring at her, my face completely expressionless.
"Are you done?" I asked, my voice flat and devoid of any emotion.
Chloe blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She probably expected me to blow up or look devastated.
Clenching her jaw, she sneered, "Don't bring this kind of garbage near me again. After all, our relationship begins and ends with being rivals."
With that, she turned on her heel like a victorious general, leading her clique of girls down the hallway.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone, I walked over to the trash can, bent down, and picked up the dirty notebook.
There was a deep crease on the cover.
No one else knew that on the very last page of this notebook, there was a Polaroid picture of the two of us—our only photo together.
It was taken at the national awards ceremony last year. The backstage area was a chaotic mess, and she had accidentally tripped and fallen right into my arms. A passing photographer caught the split-second moment.
In the photo, she was clutching my collar in panic, and I was looking down at her, my eyes softer than they had ever been.
At 10:00 PM, I was in the school library.
I was staying late to prepare for the final round of the National Team Selection. Outside, thunder rumbled, and a sudden autumn storm slammed against the massive glass windows.
My phone buzzed on the wooden table.
It was an unknown number.
I knew it was her because just this afternoon, Chloe had dramatically left the class Snapchat group and blocked my main account.
I tapped the message, and my pupils dilated.
*“The third method for that physics problem... you only wrote the beginning in your notebook. I... I can't solve it.”*
I frowned.
This demanding, bratty tone could belong to absolutely no one else.
But I didn’t reply. I locked my phone and went back to calculating the vector forces on my scratch paper.
Ten minutes later, my phone started buzzing like crazy.
*“Logan, are you dead? Would it kill you to text back?”*
*“And why did you sketch my side profile in your notebook? It’s so ugly! My face is not that round!”*
*“During the tournament, why did you slide your eraser to me? It totally threw me off! If it weren’t for your stupid eraser, I wouldn’t have messed up the last question. Did you want to beat me that badly?”*
I watched the texts stream in, the tip of my pen digging heavily into the paper.
A sketch of her profile?
That was from that afternoon in the lab when she was hunched over her desk. I had drawn it unconsciously. I thought I had hidden it well enough, but she had found it.
The messages kept coming, getting more ridiculous by the second.
*“Logan, are you an idiot? I threw your notes in the trash! Why didn’t you yell at me? You could have at least cursed me out! You acting all calm makes me feel like I’m the only one losing my mind here!”*
*“It’s pouring outside, and I don’t have an umbrella. I’m standing right outside the library. I know you’re in there.”*
*“If you’re willing to explain the last problem to me, bring an umbrella and come out. If not... I’ll just stand here until sunrise. It’s just rain anyway. It won’t kill me.”*
I turned my head to look out the window.
Through the heavy sheets of rain, under the dim streetlamp, I could see a small, fragile figure. She was wearing her thin school uniform skirt, standing stubbornly in the storm like a drenched kitten.
Another text popped up.
*“Hubby...”*
The moment those six letters hit my eyes, my heart skipped a beat.
But within two seconds, the message was unsent.
Immediately after, a long voice-to-text message appeared: *“I hate you so much. I hate how you’re always so calm. I hate how you make me feel like a complete fool! I hate how you clearly like me, but you’re too chicken to say a single word!”*
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