I was ranked second in our class. After my boyfriend—the Valedictorian—dumped me, I studied like a maniac, desperate to dethrone him. But just as I overtook him, the school’s icy, untouchable heartthrob—formerly ranked third—suddenly shot up the charts and locked down the number one spot. I was stuck as the eternal Salutatorian. Number two. Again. Just as I was about to give up and rot in despair, I heard a voice. It was a sobbing, desperate internal monologue coming from the cold-hearted genius himself. "Why did she stop studying? Is this a sign? Is she telling me to back off? Am I being delusional for thinking I could be her main man?" "If she doesn’t break up with him, I’d be willing to be the side piece forever. Even if being the 'other man' makes my heart bleed every time I ace a test just to get her attention." "Noah from AP Calc has been studying so hard lately. Is he after her? That little weasel. Why does he think he can compete with me? I hate everyone in this school equally. Everyone is trying to steal her from me." "Why hasn't she kissed me yet? Isn't the prize for first place... the girl in second place?" 1 "Are you... crying?" I stopped in my tracks, tilting my head to look at Ezra who was sitting in the corner seat. Ezra lifted his face—pale, exquisitely gloomy, and radiating an "I hate the world" energy. His dark gaze scraped over my face like a cold blade. "What?" His voice was frigid, void of any emotion. It certainly didn't sound like the desperate, sobbing mess I thought I heard. I shook my head and tapped my temple. Get a grip, Riley. I wanted to beat Ezra so bad I was starting to hallucinate. I turned back to my desk, missing the way Ezra’s gaze instantly turned heavy and ravenous the moment my back was turned. It was a double desk. Class was about to start, but the seat next to me was empty. Carter wasn't back yet; he was still buried in a textbook over at Chloe’s desk, explaining questions from the SAT prep guide. My heart sank, heavy and uncomfortable. Since the breakup, Carter kept his distance during everything but essential class time, terrified that Chloe might get jealous. A moment later, our homeroom teacher walked in to announce the seating chart shuffle. The class erupted into groans. I clenched my fists, biting my lip in frustration. At prestigious prep schools like ours, rankings are everything. Every two months, after the mock finals, we pick seats based on GPA. Number one picks first. Number one gets to choose their desk partner. Two months ago, Carter broke up with me. Since then, I’ve been grinding, trying to steal the Valedictorian spot from him. Part of me—the pathetic part—wasn't just doing it for pride. I wanted to be close to him again. We had been desk partners for three years. We only had a few months of high school left. Call me desperate, call me stupid, but I couldn't let go. But I never calculated for Ezra. The guy was usually comfortable at rank three. Suddenly, he went god-mode. He aced every quiz, every essay, every lab, locking down the top spot with a near-perfect GPA. I chased him until I tasted blood in my throat, but I couldn't catch him. I gave up. Technically, Ezra should pick first. But Ezra didn't move. He sat there, eyes downcast, face a mask of indifference. He always sat in that shadowy corner. He never cared. The teacher motioned for me to pick. My finger twitched. Suddenly, Carter stood up, cutting me off. "Mr. Harrison, I’m choosing to sit with Chloe. Sorry for speaking out of turn, but I was afraid some people wouldn't have the dignity to move on." Carter lifted his heavy eyelids to look at me, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Riley, if I didn't speak up, you were going to pick me, weren't you?" "Why bother? It’s pathetic. Clinging like this just makes you annoying." Snickers rippled through the classroom. My face went drained of color. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. In my humiliation, I remembered the voice I heard earlier. Ezra’s inner voice. Broken, shattered, and weirdly resentful. "What’s the point of me picking a seat? She won't even look at me. She refuses to acknowledge my legal status as her academic superior." "She said it once... Number one and Number two are a match made in heaven. Why is she looking for some third-rate rebound?" "I don't want to embarrass her. A true husband doesn't take his anger out on his wife." "Maybe I'm too greedy. Dreaming that she’d want to sit with me... she doesn't know I love her. She’d just think I’m a psychopath." I took a deep breath, steadied my shaking hands, and pointed a finger at the corner. "No. I choose Ezra." The classroom fell into a weird silence. Everyone knew Ezra was antisocial. He came from old money—a family so powerful even the principal walked on eggshells around him. Ezra abruptly stood up. He grabbed his books with a cold, sharp movement and walked to the hallway. "Whatever." His careless attitude made me question my sanity again. Maybe I did hallucinate the voice. Ezra couldn't be that internal drama queen. But then I looked closer. Ezra was holding his textbook upside down. Five seconds later, he walked back in. His icy gaze raked over me from top to bottom. "Am I moving to you?" I noticed his knuckles were white from gripping his pants so hard he was about to rip the fabric. 2 Ezra and I became desk partners. Carter got his wish and sat with Chloe. Chloe’s smug look vanished the second she saw me sitting next to the school’s elusive prince. It was replaced by shock, then pure jealousy. I sat there, stunned and a little anxious. Wait. Did changing partners mean I was now involved in some weird drama with the school beauty too? I poked Ezra with my pen. Ezra’s obsidian eyes snapped toward me. His long, thick lashes trembled. I swear I saw a trace of sorrow in them, like a dog waiting too long for its owner. I was hit by how breathtakingly handsome he was. My heart skipped a beat. "Do you know Chloe?" I asked. Ezra’s eyes instantly went guarded. He shook his head, face blank. I sighed in relief. I didn't want to fight over another guy. "Anything else?" Ezra asked, his voice polite but freezing cold. I shook my head and buried my face in a practice test. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ezra open the class roster. He squinted, sharply analyzing Chloe’s name and GPA statistics. Ezra’s voice—panic, confusion, frustration—filled my head again. "Why is she asking about her?" "Chloe is a girl. A girl who stole her ex-boyfriend. Why does Riley care?" "Chloe’s grades are trash. Her features are average. Her skin routine is lacking. Visually, she is zero threat to me." "But Riley mentioned her. Is she hinting at something?" "I’m so stupid. I can't read my wife’s mind at all. I’m a failure of a husband. Partners who can't anticipate needs deserve to perish." I listened to his internal monologue spiral into insanity. I was terrified he was going to do something drastic. I quickly put down my pen and patted his hand to calm him down. The moment my skin touched his, Ezra went rigid. His back snapped straight, and a stifled groan escaped his throat. His eyes lost focus. A sheen of sweat instantly broke out across his forehead. It felt like I hadn't touched his hand, but a trigger on a bomb. I pulled back, startled. I didn't know what to do, but looking at his flushed, damp face, I gulped. My gaze drifted lower. There was a suspicious shadow on his blue uniform trousers. I froze. Ezra sensed my shock. He tried to maintain composure, leveraging his height to stand up, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Excuse me. Bathroom." But his retreat was frantic. He looked like he was shattering. I reached out to wipe a drop of sweat he’d left on my exam paper. It was still warm. 3 The moment Ezra left, Noah, the Academic Rep, pounced on my desk with a stack of papers. "Riley! Finally, I caught you alone." Noah looked like he was about to cry tears of joy. I blinked, realizing that since the seat change, Ezra had been acting like a guard dog, fiercely patrolling his territory. Nobody dared approach. Noah raced against the clock to ask me questions. Just as I finished explaining the last calculus problem, Ezra appeared in the doorway. His gloomy eyes fixed silently on Noah. He had cleaned himself up. He looked elegant, composed again. His dark hair fell over his pale forehead. His collar was buttoned all the way up, hiding his collarbones. He looked like the picture of abstinence—a cold, distant moon. But his thoughts were feral. He was screaming internally, blinded by jealousy. "Noah definitely wants her. That scheming little rat. The moment I leave, he swoops in to seduce her." "She’s teaching him math. I’m in hell. I’m in agony. Why does she give everyone a chance? I’m going to lose my mind." "Everyone is trying so hard. I have so many rivals. I’m so mediocre compared to them." "I have an ugly personality. I’m socially awkward. The only thing keeping my status is my GPA. No, even my GPA isn't perfect. I didn't get a 4.0 flat. I’m a failure. No wonder she’s looking for a side piece." By the end, I could hear a suppressed sob in his mind. Noah felt Ezra’s death stare and practically sprinted back to his seat. Ezra slowly sat down. He stared silently at his stack of workbooks and started solving problems. As he worked, I heard the sound of broken sobbing in my head. 4 Ezra sat next to me every day, radiating despair. The forecast on his face was always 'cloudy with a chance of doom.' But he worked harder than ever, as if trying to defend his title as the "Main Boyfriend" (in his head). I didn't understand why he linked being Valedictorian to being my husband, but seeing such a beautiful boy crying internally every day... Fine. I felt bad for him. I stopped slacking off. With finals approaching, I made Ezra my target. I chased his score. Every quiz, every test, our names were right next to each other. Eventually, the class got used to it. People started joking. "It used to be Carter at #1. Now it’s Ezra. It’s not like the Valedictorian changed, it’s like Riley changed boyfriends." "Our eternal #2 only dates the guy at the top." "Honestly, Carter has no taste. He downgraded to Chloe, and now he’s out of the top ten." At this stage, scores were the only currency that mattered. Nobody cared that Ezra seemed deeply depressed; they just laughed at Carter. In the shadows, Carter’s face went dark. He stared at the ranking board, veins popping in his neck. The weather turned cold, and I caught a flu. I walked back to my desk coughing, only to find cold medicine and a thermos of hot water waiting for me. Ezra spoke concisely. "For you." I smiled at him and downed the medicine. There was a little residue left in the cup. Ezra calmly took the cup and walked to the storage room to throw it out. I thought that was weird. The trash can by the back door was closer. I quietly followed him and cracked the storage room door open. Ezra was leaning against the wall. He held the cup with one hand, the other hidden behind some boxes. His head was bowed, staring at the lipstick stain on the rim. A trembling growl vibrated in his throat. His gaze was obsessive, greedy. He had unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt. He was breathing hard. He swallowed, then slowly extended his tongue to trace the rim where my lips had been. The moment his tongue touched the stain, his back muscles seized. His fingers tightened around the cup, the plastic crunching under the pressure. My eyes went wide. I gasped. Ezra snapped his head up. His eyes were red-rimmed and wild, staring at me like a dangerous wolf.
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