Marlborough University was more than a school — it was a stage.
Lined with ivy-covered walls and fountains older than the students themselves, it pulsed with ambition, legacy, and untouchable pride. Inside its grand lecture halls and manicured courtyards, two names rose above the rest — Elsa Avery and Carter Bennett — both icons in their own right, though worlds apart.
Elsa Avery was the kind of girl stories warned you about — porcelain beauty, diamond standards, and a tongue sharp enough to draw blood. With long, flowing blonde hair and posture trained by years of elite upbringing, she moved like she was born above the rest. Her outfits were crisp, her makeup light but flawless, and her aura screamed control.
Everyone knew Elsa. The professors, the deans, even the visiting diplomats. Whispers trailed behind her in every hallway. But she barely heard them — they were just background noise. Her standards were too high to be touched, too rigid to be moved.
Carter Bennett, on the other hand, didn't walk — she moved through campus like a force of nature. Long black hair tied back in a loose ponytail, wire-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, and a hooded sweatshirt slung over one shoulder. She had that calm, unreadable air — like nothing could touch her, like she didn't need anyone's approval.
And she didn't.
Carter had a reputation of her own. Top athlete. Ace student. A quiet type who only spoke when necessary — and when she did, her words were few but heavy. Her popularity wasn't built on charm or money. It was built on presence.
Despite their mutual fame, Carter and Elsa had never interacted.
Until today.
---
The lecture hall buzzed with the rustle of papers and low chatter as students filtered in for Political Theory. The professor, known for her unorthodox teaching methods, was rearranging assigned groups for the term project.
Carter entered last. She nodded to a few students — mostly fans, girls who smiled too wide or stared a bit too long — and slouched into a seat near the back. She barely looked around. But her gaze briefly caught on the front row.
Elsa.
Carter recognized her instantly. Of course she did. She was hard to miss — perfect posture, pale hand adjusting her silk blouse, expression unreadable. The kind of girl who looked like she had a driver waiting outside, even on campus.
The professor cleared her throat.
"New partners for the term project," she announced. "Names are final."
A few groans echoed through the room.
"Elsa Avery... Carter Bennett."
A sudden silence.
Elsa's head turned with a slow, calculated grace. Her green eyes narrowed in Carter's direction.
Carter blinked, unfazed. She simply raised one brow, then looked away. She hadn't expected this. She didn't want a partner — much less her.
Elsa leaned back slightly, lips twitching into a half-smile — amused, maybe. Or just annoyed. To her, Carter was a silhouette — one of those sporty girls, aloof and loud in her queerness. Elsa didn't know her, and didn't care to.
Carter, meanwhile, didn't know much about Elsa either — not yet. She'd heard the name, seen the face. That was all. If Elsa's views were harsh or bigoted, she hadn't yet made them obvious to Carter.
But that would come later.
For now, they were just two strangers thrown together by fate — two very different lives brushing for the first time.
When class ended, Carter stood, shoved her hands in her pockets, and approached the front row without hurry.
Elsa glanced up, expression unreadable.
"We should talk about the project," Carter said, voice low, calm.
Elsa looked her up and down like she was inspecting something beneath glass. "I suppose we should."
Their eyes locked — two storms, quiet but building.
And just like that, the match was lit.
---
The corridor outside the lecture hall was flooded with sunlight and chatter. Groups formed quickly — friends exchanging notes, couples leaning into corners, and a few curious eyes trailing Carter and Elsa as they walked in silence.
Elsa's heels clicked sharply against the marble floor. Carter's sneakers made no sound.
They stopped near the student garden — quiet, shaded. The tension between them wasn't loud, but it buzzed in the air like a wire ready to snap.
Elsa crossed her arms. "Let's make this clear. I don't like group work, and I especially don't like people who don't carry their weight."
Carter leaned against the railing with a shrug. "Good. Because I'm not one of them."
Elsa's gaze lingered for a beat, clearly scanning for weakness. But Carter didn't flinch. She had no need to impress Elsa Avery — queen of pretense, princess of perfection.
"We're presenting on political dualism," Elsa said, flipping open her planner. "You'll handle the historical research and visual draft. I'll write and present."
Carter let out a dry laugh. "Is that how your partnerships usually work?"
"It's how they should work," Elsa replied coolly. "I don't trust others to match my standards."
"And I don't let people dictate my work." Carter's tone remained even, but firm.
Their eyes met again. Elsa's fingers curled slightly around her planner.
"Fine," Elsa said at last. "We split it."
"Fair."
A moment passed.
It was the kind of exchange that seemed small from the outside — but to them, it had weight. No smiles, no introductions, just clashing expectations and mutual resistance. And something else — curiosity. Not yet affection. Not yet hatred. Just a sense that they were stepping into dangerous ground.
As Carter turned to walk away, Elsa called out, "Bennett."
Carter looked back, one eyebrow raised.
"You're gay, aren't you?" Elsa asked bluntly.
The question hung in the air like a slap.
Carter didn't look shocked — just still. "Yeah. Why?"
Elsa tilted her head slightly, lips pressing into a half-smile. "No reason."
She walked off, her heels sharp against the stone.
But inside, something had shifted.
Carter stood alone for a moment, her jaw tightening.
She watched Elsa disappear into the crowd like she always did — flawless, distant, untouchable.
Carter didn't know it yet, but that brief moment would echo in her mind longer than she expected.
And Elsa — though she wouldn't admit it — would remember Carter's calm defiance just as clearly.
Two storms, slowly circling.
The first winds had only begun.
---
to be continued..
***