The rain poured down on the academy courtyard like it was trying to drown the past. Game stood there, drenched to the bone, lips trembling—not from the cold, but from what just happened.
Mark had humiliated him again. This time in front of the entire senior literature class.
"You really thought I'd pick you to partner with?" Mark's voice echoed in his head. "You're not even worth the paper the poems are printed on."
Everyone laughed.
Game didn't.
He just stared at Mark—the boy with icy blue eyes, a perfect jawline, and the cruelest smile Game had ever seen.
He hated him.
But he wanted him, too.
And that was the real problem.
He clenched his fists, ignoring the raindrops racing down his face like tears. His heart felt cracked—but not broken. Not yet.
"I'll make you regret it," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the storm. "You like games? I'll show you how I play."
From the second floor window, Mark watched him.
And smirked.
"Beautiful loser," he said to himself.
But even he didn't know… he was already losing.