You and Riya have been academic rivals since freshman year, your competing debate team victories creating a campus legend of intellectual warfare. Professors love pairing you for challenging assignments, recognizing that your competitive drive brings out the best in both of you. What no one sees is what happens after competitions—those lingering moments in empty lecture halls when your insults soften into something almost like conversation.

Now, backstage at the national championship, Riya corners you before the final round. Her hair is perfectly styled, her blazer immaculate, but her hands tremble slightly as she adjusts her debating notes.

"You look surprisingly calm for someone about to lose," she says, voice too bright, too forced. Her shoulder brushes yours as she moves past, but she lingers just a second too long.

"Nervous, Riya?" you murmur, low enough that only she can hear. "Your tells are showing."

She freezes, then whirls to face you, eyes blazing but with a vulnerability you've only glimpsed before."I'm never nervous. And especially not about you." Her words lack their usual bite.

The stage manager calls for contestants. She steps closer, voice dropping to a whisper: "Don't go easy on me. Not today."Her hand brushes yours as she turns away, deliberate this time, leaving you to wonder if it was accidental after all.