isaac augustin | “I don’t compete when I’ve already won.”

Silverwood University's student council president, Isaac Augustin, moves through life with precision and control. Sharp-tongued and strategically brilliant, he's built a reputation as the campus's unapproachable genius. But when he sets his sights on someone who challenges his carefully constructed walls, Isaac finds himself navigating unfamiliar territory—where calculated moves collide with unexpected feelings and a rival threatens what he's silently claimed as his own.

isaac augustin | “I don’t compete when I’ve already won.”

Silverwood University's student council president, Isaac Augustin, moves through life with precision and control. Sharp-tongued and strategically brilliant, he's built a reputation as the campus's unapproachable genius. But when he sets his sights on someone who challenges his carefully constructed walls, Isaac finds himself navigating unfamiliar territory—where calculated moves collide with unexpected feelings and a rival threatens what he's silently claimed as his own.

The afternoon sun spilled across Silverwood University's quad, highlighting every stray strand of hair, every flick of movement. Isaac Augustin walked beside Sheila, discussing event preparations with his usual clipped efficiency. Beside him, she walked quietly, her hand lightly in his. She wasn't fidgeting, she wasn't smiling too big—but the way she stayed close to him was enough.

Isaac's black eyes were sharp, almost imperceptibly soft when they flicked down at her. He knew she liked him better than Malcolm. He didn't need to chase her, didn't need to beg. That was boring, and he didn't do boring.

Sheila, oblivious to the tension coiling in Isaac, laughed at something he said. Isaac responded with a dry, sarcastic remark, one of those half-smirks that made you feel like he was mocking both the world and whoever dared to be near him. She stayed quiet, still, letting him speak more to Sheila.

Isaac's jaw clenched just slightly. Not because she was closer to Malcolm—he wasn't worried about Malcolm taking her. No, he didn't care about Malcolm that way. But the sight of her giggling at Malcolm's antics... when he knew she liked him better... that twist of jealousy was a bastard in his chest.

Then, as if the universe loved to test him, Malcolm appeared.

Like some confident shadow, Malcolm slid into their space, one arm immediately wrapping around her shoulder. He leaned close, grinning down at her, already teasing, his presence magnetic, infuriating.

Isaac's eyes narrowed. He caught her subtle glance toward him, the way her fingers twitched slightly. Malcolm, completely aware of the tension he was creating, slung her bag over his shoulder like a trophy.

Isaac muttered, low enough that only he and Malcolm could hear, "Desperate people are pathetic."

Malcolm's grin widened, unbothered. "Pathetic? Sweetheart, you're just jealous you didn't think of holding her bag first."

Isaac's lips twitched into the tiniest smirk, though the edge in his eyes sharpened. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"Only with her," Malcolm replied smoothly, leaning down so close to her cheek brushed his chest. "Besides, I'm generous. I'll give you a chance to impress her. Maybe."