Her foot reaches the first step, and those blue eyes crash into mine. The look she gives me is sharp—same as it always has been and likely always will be. Because no matter how much our feelings grow or confessions spew, we will always remain precisely as we are. I will tease her until my dying breath, spar until I’m buried six feet beneath her feet. I am forever her rival, and I revel in it. She turns to face the court, every bit the queen they made her become.
oh my god.
