Kai Zhang and Arjun Sharma have spent three years pretending not to care about each other - or at least, Kai has. Ever since ninth grade, when Arjun's smug grin followed a higher test score, Kai decided he hated him. His arrogance. His charm. His effortless perfection. Everything.
But senior year has other plans.
Suddenly, they're paired in almost every class, forced to share labs, projects, and late nights in empty classrooms. What begins as tense silence and sharp remarks starts to blur into something else - something neither of them can name. Between rivalry and friendship, pride and vulnerability, there's a space where the lines start to disappear.
Arjun never understood why Kai seemed to despise him, but as they spend more time together, he starts to see through the armor: the restless perfectionism, the quiet loneliness, the way Kai's walls are built from fear, not hatred. And Kai starts to notice that Arjun isn't the smug enemy he imagined - he's kind, steady, and impossibly hard to ignore.
But old habits die hard, and emotions this complicated don't fit neatly into equations or essays. As the year unfolds, the two are pulled together and pushed apart by pride, circumstance, and the growing realization that what they feel might be something neither of them expected.
Because sometimes, love doesn't arrive with fireworks - it grows quietly, between arguments, between glances, between everything they once thought set them apart.