The Bullying Dynamic

Emma’s POV

Killian Thomas had no idea who he was messing with.

He might have won our little exchange after class, but this was far from over. No one—especially not some nobody scholarship student—made me falter. If he thought he could ignore me, brush me off like I was beneath him, he had another thing coming.

I made my way to the café on campus, where my friends were gathered at our usual table. Eloise, my closest friend, was sipping on an iced latte while scrolling through her phone. Across from her, Hazel—sometimes a friend, sometimes an annoyance—was fixing her lipstick in a compact mirror.

The moment I sat down, Hazel smirked. “Saw you talking to Killian Thomas again.”

Eloise raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess, another round of who can be the biggest asshole?”

I smiled sweetly. “Oh, you know me. I just can’t help myself.”

Hazel leaned in, intrigued. “Why him though? I mean, yeah, he’s hot in that annoyingly smart, broody way, but still… he’s just a scholarship kid.”

I stirred my coffee, watching the swirls disappear into the dark liquid. “That’s exactly why. He’s just a scholarship kid. Yet, he acts like he belongs here—like he’s better than us.”

Eloise sighed. “Emma, he is better than most of the idiots on this campus. If he had money, you’d probably be into him.”

I shot her a glare, but Hazel giggled. “Oh my God, can you imagine? Emma Scott, queen of Westbridge, pining for Killian Thomas?”

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s get one thing straight—I don’t pine. And I definitely don’t pine for guys who think they’re above me.”

But my mind betrayed me, flashing back to the way Killian had looked at me earlier—calm, unbothered, like nothing I said could shake him.

I hated it.

And I knew exactly how to fix it.

Killian’s POV

By the time I made it to my part-time job at the campus library, I had all but forgotten about Emma Scott.

Or at least, I tried to.

She had been a thorn in my side for years, always finding new ways to get under my skin. If she wasn’t belittling my scholarship, she was making snide remarks about my clothes, my lack of connections, or my obsession with studying.

But today was different.

Because for the first time, I had seen something behind that smug exterior—a flicker of frustration. A crack in the perfect, untouchable façade she wore like armor.

I shouldn’t have cared. But for some reason, it bothered me.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck as I shelved a few textbooks. I had bigger things to worry about than Emma Scott’s bruised ego.

Like paying my rent.

Like making sure I graduated at the top of my class so I could land a job that would get me out of this cycle of constantly proving myself.

But just as I convinced myself that Emma wasn’t worth another second of my thoughts, my phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Check the bulletin board outside the library. Thought you should see it.

Frowning, I stepped outside. A small crowd had gathered around the board, students whispering and laughing.

And then I saw it.

A printed-out list titled: “Westbridge’s Most Eligible Bachelors—Ranked”

And at the very top?

#1 – Killian Thomas (The ‘Scholarship’ Prince)

I clenched my jaw as I scanned the description below my name.

“Sure, he doesn’t have a trust fund or a last name that matters, but who cares? With brains, brooding good looks, and a perfect academic record, Killian Thomas is Westbridge’s very own ‘underdog prince.’ If only he wasn’t so serious all the time… someone should really help him relax.”

The message was clear.

This was Emma’s doing.

I turned, and there she was, standing off to the side, watching me with that damn smirk of hers.

She raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Oh? Is something wrong, prince?”

I inhaled sharply, forcing down my irritation. “Really, Emma? This is your idea of entertainment?”

She stepped closer, her voice a low purr. “I thought you’d like it. After all, you’re always so serious. Maybe now you’ll finally get some attention.”

Anger curled in my gut. She wanted a reaction. She wanted me to snap.

But I refused to give her the satisfaction.

Instead, I took a step forward, closing the space between us. Emma’s smirk faltered—just a little.

I leaned in, lowering my voice. “I don’t need attention, Emma. Least of all from you.”

For the first time, she didn’t have a witty comeback.

And that? That felt like the real victory.