CHAPTER THREE - ELENA

I slammed my textbook onto the scarred surface of the teacher's desk, the abrupt thud echoing in the nearly empty classroom. Mr. Harrison, a man whose patience rivaled the vast, flat landscape of North Dakota itself, looked up from his stack of papers, his brow furrowed with a weariness I knew I was adding to.

"I need a new partner," I stated, my voice tight with barely contained frustration.

Mr. Harrison sighed, the kind of sigh that carried years of managing teenage egos. "Elena, I can’t change your partner."

"But Mr. Harrison," I persisted, my fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the desk, "Noah and I are just not compatible. We can't work together."

"Everyone can work together, Elena. It’s a group project, and cooperation is part of the learning experience." He set down his pen and gave me a look that bordered on amused patience.

"Besides," he added, his tone softening slightly, "Noah is a very bright student. I think you could learn a lot from him."

I bristled at the implication. Learn from him? The very idea was insulting. "But he’s impossible! He’s arrogant, condescending, and… and he just makes everything harder."

Mr. Harrison remained unmoved, his expression firm. "I'm sorry, Elena. My decision stands. Now, please, let me get back to my grading. You have a very important project to focus on."

Defeated but not broken, I turned away from the desk, my mind already swirling with plans. I wouldn’t let Noah get the better of me.

As I stalked past the rows of desks, a low, familiar voice cut through my simmering anger outside the class.

"Afraid I'll make you look bad?"

I froze, my grip tightening on my books.

Noah lounged against the doorframe, one shoulder propped against the chipped wood, that smug smirk playing at his lips. His eyes, the color of the wide-open North Dakota sky after a summer storm held a spark of amusement, and it only fueled my irritation. I lifted my chin, willing myself not to react, but the heat rising to my face betrayed me.

I didn’t grace him with a response, only curling my lip into a silent snarl.

He pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer, his smirk still firmly in place. He knew exactly how to get under my skin, and the infuriating thing was, he seemed to enjoy it.

My pride, already wounded, felt like it had taken a direct hit. This wasn’t just about the project anymore. It was about dominance.  About proving that I, Elena Kensington, wasn’t someone to be dismissed or belittled. That Noah Carter had severely underestimated me.

Blood pumped in my ears as I tried to calm myself.

That afternoon, I skipped our first scheduled study session. I told myself I had a legitimate reason, a doctor’s appointment, a family obligation, anything to justify my absence.

The truth?

I couldn’t bear the thought of spending two hours cooped up in a library with Noah, forced to feign cooperation and endure his smug attitude.

Instead, I retreated to my sanctuary, the quiet corner of “The Bean Scene”, a cozy little coffee shop away from the prying eyes of Blackwood. With a steaming mug of chai latte in hand, I buried myself in a novel, though the words blurred slightly as my mind kept replaying our confrontation.

It didn’t matter.

I would handle Noah Carter.

One way or another.

****

NOAH

The school library was nearly empty, save for the quiet hum of the AC blowing a steady stream of cool air overhead. I sat alone at a corner table, the dim glow of my laptop screen casting faint shadows across the polished wood. My fingers moved steadily over the keyboard, each click punctuating the silence.

The project outline was coming together faster than I’d expected. The Role of Social Class in Classic and Modern Literature—a topic I didn’t particularly care about but one I could tackle easily. I didn’t need to be passionate about it. I just needed to get it done, turn it in, and get one step closer to leaving Blackwood behind for good.

Elena’s absence didn’t surprise me.

I’d expected it, honestly.

She was proud, stubborn, and more than a little spoiled. I’d seen it in the way she carried herself, in the way she looked at people like me, with that barely concealed disdain that made her feelings clear without a single word.

She thought she was better than me.

She thought money made her superior.

And the worst part? I used to be attracted to her.

That thought irritated me more than it should have.

Shoving it aside, I focused on my work. I outlined the key points, sourced relevant examples, and crafted an introduction strong enough to hold a reader’s attention. I worked through the silence, the familiar rhythm of research and analysis keeping my mind from wandering where it shouldn’t.

By the time the library lights flickered, signaling closing time, I was done.

I saved the document, shut my laptop, and slid it into my bag. With one last glance around the empty space, I pushed open the heavy doors and stepped out into the cool North Dakota evening.

The air smelled crisp and clean, like the kind of fresh start I was counting down the days for.

****

ELENA

I made sure to arrive late to class the next day; my entrance was deliberately designed to be noticed. I swept into the room with an air of nonchalance, my carefully tousled hair swaying behind me, my eyes scanning the room as if I hadn’t just skipped our study session the day before.

Noah sat at our shared desk. Mr. Harrison wanted partners to sit together. His posture was relaxed, and his focus entirely on the book in his hands. He didn’t even glance up as I approached, which only irritated me further. His calm indifference made my teeth grind.

Without a word, he slid a printed document across the desk toward me.

I stared at it, confused, until my eyes registered what it was—the project outline. Meticulously formatted. Impressively detailed. Complete. A single, clipped sentence was scrawled at the bottom of the page:

“You're welcome.”

My jaw tightened.

I hadn’t expected him to actually do the work. I’d fully anticipated having to start from scratch, fueled by righteous indignation and an overwhelming need to prove him wrong. The fact that he had not only done the work but had done it well made me furious.

"You think you're smarter than me?" I snapped, my voice sharp, my pride stinging.

Noah finally met my gaze, his eyes steady, unwavering. There was no arrogance in his expression, just quiet, unnerving confidence.

"I don’t think," he said. "I know."

The air between us crackled, thick with challenge. And something else. Something I couldn’t quite define.

It was a spark. A pull.

And I hated it.

"You know what?" I said, keeping my tone cool. "I don’t need your help. I can do this on my own."

"Then why didn’t you?"

His voice was calm, his words precise, and each syllable cut deeper than I cared to admit. I opened my mouth to fire back a response, but nothing came.

Damn him.

He leaned back in his chair, watching me with that same careful, unreadable expression. "Look, Elena, I don’t care about you. I just want a good grade. This project is worth twenty percent of our final mark, and I’m not about to let your pride screw that up."

"My pride?" I scoffed, but the usual conviction wasn’t there.

"Yes, your pride," he said smoothly. "You’re so busy trying to prove yourself. Just set aside whatever vendetta you have and work with me."

I wanted to argue. I wanted to tear him apart with some perfectly cutting remarks. But for once, I had nothing. Because he was right.

I was distracted. By him.

It wasn’t my fault—how could it be when he was standing there, looking like sin wrapped in perfection? He was a very fine man, and I was not blind.

No, I was cursed with sight, cursed with the ability to see every sharp angle of his jaw, the way his shirt stretched over his broad chest.

And that realization unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.

For a brief moment, something flickered beneath his usual self-assured mask, something almost vulnerable, but it was gone before I could dissect it.

"Fine," I muttered, barely above a whisper. "But don’t think this means you’ve won. I’m still going to make your life miserable."

Noah let out a low chuckle; the sound unexpected, smooth, warm, and entirely too irritating. A shiver crawled up my spine before I could stop it.

"I wouldn’t have it any other way, Elena."

The bell rang before I could come up with a comeback. Mr. Harrison walked in, a stack of papers in his hands, and the room fell into a quiet hush.

I turned my attention to the lecture, but I felt Noah beside me, the tension between us stretching tight, like an invisible thread pulled taut.

As Professor Harrison spoke, I risked a sideways glance.

Noah was taking notes, his brows drawn together in focus, his dark hair falling slightly over his forehead. His fingers moved fluidly over the page, his lips pressed together in quiet concentration.

And for the first time, I found myself studying him.

Noticing the sharp angles of his jaw. The way his lashes cast faint shadows against his skin. The quiet intensity in his expression.

Curiosity flickered in my chest, unbidden and dangerous.

Maybe, just maybe, Noah wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Or maybe, I thought with a smirk, I’d just enjoy the challenge of making his life miserable.