Aiden stepped up to the desk, arms crossed, voice steady, as he conversed with her in French.
"Miss Hoff, is it possible for me to do this assignment alone?"
Miss Hoff didn't look up right away. She was flipping through papers, her expression unreadable until her eyes flicked toward him, curious.
"Why, Aiden? You want to do it by yourself?"
He nodded, shoulders tense but firm.
"I don't work well with others. In most of my previous classes, there was always someone who did things last minute or didn't bother at all. It's frustrating. To avoid that, I'd rather just work alone… and move on to something else."
He didn't bother softening his tone. There was no point.
His eyes drifted around the empty classroom.
"And honestly, most of the people in here are below my level in French. So there's no point in trying to talk to them. They wouldn't understand what I'm saying anyway."
There was a moment of silence. Miss Hoff finally set her pen down and folded her hands together.
She switched to English.
"If you think that's best, then fine. But I want a five-thousand-word essay in French and a handwritten apology letter to your assigned partner. Then I'll consider it."
Aiden blinked.
"What? Why?"
She sighed.
"Aiden, I match students for a reason. Each partner, each assignment—it's all based on their performance, on tests and in class. Some students are still catching up to this level. Others, like you, need to be pushed harder."
He tilted his head, skeptical. "So you're saying she's slow?"
"No. She's excellent. But you? You lack challenge. And Rosalie Hale will give it to you. She's one of my brightest students in this class."
Her voice warmed with rare admiration.
"Honestly, sometimes I don't even know if I'm the teacher or she is. Just trust me on this—you won't regret it."
He didn't respond. Just gave her a curt nod, then turned and walked out the door.
And ran straight into her.
Like a curse spoken aloud, Rosalie Hale stood just outside the classroom, calm and poised as if she'd been waiting.
"Why don't you want to be my partner?" she asked, her voice cool and detached.
He stepped back, catching himself.
"It's not you. I just… have a hard time working in groups, so I figured I'd just do it solo."
He gestured vaguely down the hallway, already trying to put distance between them.
"And what does that have to do with me? I'm not them."
She hadn't raised her voice. She didn't need to.
"Nothing. You're great. I just prefer working alone," he said quickly, not wanting to offend her. They walked across the courtyard toward the lunchroom.
"Or maybe you think you're better than the rest of us."
She said it without venom. Just a fact.
"I did—just a few seconds ago," Aiden admitted. "But honestly… there's always someone better."
Rosalie nodded once, as if she'd been waiting for that answer.
They reached the lunchroom doors. Aiden raked a hand through his hair in frustration.
"And I really don't want to write a damn ten-page essay and an apology letter."
"Uh oh… not so fast. You might have to deal with that anyway," she said, looking him dead in the eye.
"Why?"
She stepped past him and opened the door.
"That… you'll have to find out for yourself, Aiden White."
And with that, she disappeared inside.
But just before the door shut behind her, he saw it—the slightest twitch at the corner of her mouth.
A smile.
Small, knowing, dangerous.
Gone before he could decide what it meant.