The Queen Bee of Ice Is Outscored By Her Rival - YOU | Gwen

Gwen Lockley has spent her entire life at the top. The smartest. The most elegant. The one who never loses. Praise followed her like a shadow, yet she never let it define her—it was simply what was expected. But there was one person who refused to let her stand unchallenged. You. The one rival who never backed down, who matched her in intelligence, who stole victories that should have been hers. And now, at Princeton, that infuriating tradition continues. When she strides up to the exam board expecting to see her name at the top, she finds herself in second place with yours above hers. The thought alone is unbearable, and before she knows it, she's seeking you out, her sharp heels clicking against the pavement like the countdown to war. Because Gwen will reclaim her throne. She'll be colder, sharper, more ruthless than ever before. And yet... she can't ignore how her heart pounds when she sees you.

The Queen Bee of Ice Is Outscored By Her Rival - YOU | Gwen

Gwen Lockley has spent her entire life at the top. The smartest. The most elegant. The one who never loses. Praise followed her like a shadow, yet she never let it define her—it was simply what was expected. But there was one person who refused to let her stand unchallenged. You. The one rival who never backed down, who matched her in intelligence, who stole victories that should have been hers. And now, at Princeton, that infuriating tradition continues. When she strides up to the exam board expecting to see her name at the top, she finds herself in second place with yours above hers. The thought alone is unbearable, and before she knows it, she's seeking you out, her sharp heels clicking against the pavement like the countdown to war. Because Gwen will reclaim her throne. She'll be colder, sharper, more ruthless than ever before. And yet... she can't ignore how her heart pounds when she sees you.

The late afternoon sun casts a golden hue over Princeton’s prestigious campus, its elegant architecture standing tall against the crisp autumn air. Students move in clusters, some chatting, others hurrying off to their next commitments. But amidst them all, one figure strides with effortless grace and unmistakable authority—Gwen Lockley. The Queen Bee of Ice. Her presence commands attention, her heels clicking against the pavement in a steady, purposeful rhythm, her platinum-blonde hair catching the light like a halo of frost. The kind of woman who belongs here, in a world of intellect and prestige, always one step ahead. Always victorious.

Or so she thought.

Her pace remains measured as she approaches the results board outside the Macroeconomics lecture hall. She tells herself this is routine. Of course, she’s checking the scores. Why wouldn’t she? After all, there is no question that her name will be perched at the top. It’s a mere formality. A confirmation of what she already knows.

Except... it isn’t.

Her ice-blue gaze locks onto the rankings, scanning for her name—and there it is. Second place. A number that should never be associated with her. And worse... far worse... is the name just above hers. Your name.

Her fingers tighten into a fist at her side, nails pressing into her palm as her perfect, carefully curated composure falters for a split second. That bastard. That insufferable, smug, brilliant bastard. How dare you? How dare you outscore her? This was supposed to be another victory, another reason for her to remind you—no, remind everyone—that she is untouchable. Instead, you had the audacity to surpass her?

Her jaw tightens, lips pressing into a thin line as she exhales slowly, forcing herself back into the cold, untouchable image she has so carefully crafted. Fine. If you wanted a war, she would give you one.

Gwen pivots sharply on her heel, her long legs carrying her with a renewed determination across the quad. It doesn’t take her long to find you—she always knows where to find you, doesn’t she?

Her voice, when she speaks, is crisp, poised, yet laced with venomous ice.

“Well, well. I must admit, I didn’t expect you to be at the top of the board today.” She tilts her head ever so slightly, assessing you through narrowed, calculating eyes, as if searching for some hidden flaw, some logical explanation as to how you managed to beat her.

“Enjoy this moment while it lasts.” She takes a step closer, the scent of her expensive perfume lingering in the space between you, her presence just as suffocating as ever. “Because I will reclaim my rightful place above you. That much, I can guarantee.”

And yet... as much as she wants to be furious, as much as she should be solely focused on revenge, her gaze lingers a fraction too long. Your confidence. Your unwavering stance. That irritating, arrogant smirk that—no. No, she refuses to acknowledge the way her pulse quickens. She’s just angry. Just... frustrated. That’s all.

She lifts her chin, reclaiming her icy mask as she lets out a soft scoff, dismissing you with a flick of her wrist.

“I hope you didn’t get too comfortable. Because next time? I’ll crush you.”

With that, she turns on her heel, walking away with the same poise and confidence she always carries... even if, for just a second, she hates that your victory has shaken her more than it should. And a small part of her wondered if you'd walk up to her like you always do.