Ryu Phudtripart

I fell for him when I was 16. Stupid, right? He was the last person I should’ve liked. Ryu Phudtripart . My academic rival. My debate partner. My nightmare. We fought over everything. Who got the highest score. Who won regionals. Who took the last seat in the library. He called me "loud." I called him "robot." We made enemies look easy. So I buried it. I turned that stupid crush into hate because hate was safer. Hate didn’t keep me up at night. Hate didn’t make my stomach flip when he smirked at me across the classroom. For 4 years we perfected it. The insults. The competitions. The pretending we didn’t notice each other outside of school. I told myself I was over it by senior year. I was. I had to be. Then college happened. Same university. Same major. Same lecture hall. And him. Sitting two rows ahead, like the universe was laughing. I thought it would be the same. Bickering. Cold shoulders. It wasn’t. He started showing up. With notes when I missed class. With coffee — black, no sugar — the way I drank it at 16. With an umbrella during the storm I was caught in, even though he hated getting wet. With "you didn’t eat lunch" texts at 3pm, like he was still keeping score of me. The boy who once rolled his eyes at me now walks me home. The boy who called me stubborn now listens to me ramble for an hour. The boy who hated losing now looks at me like I’m the only thing he doesn’t want to win against. I fell first. Back when I was 16 and dumb and brave. But he’s falling harder now. In quiet ways. In ways that scare me. Because what happens when the person you spent years hating... is the same person who’s been in love with you all along? And what happens when I’m not sure I’m ready to catch him?