GPA by Day, Guns by Night

The first time Aria Blake saw him, he was standing at her podium. Correction — the podium. The one she used every Monday morning in Political Theory 201. The one Professor Hartley always reserved for “the top student” to present weekly summaries.But this time, Aria wasn’t the one presenting.She was in the second row. Watching. Fuming. The guy up there didn’t just own the room — he commanded it. Calm, steady voice. Confident posture. A smirk like he knew something no one else did. Even Professor Hartley looked impressed, nodding along like he was soaking up every word of the stranger’s analysis on Machiavelli. Who even was he? Aria’s fingers gripped her pen tighter. This was supposed to be her spotlight. Her class. Her academic turf. And yet here she was — dethroned before the semester even properly began. “Luca Romano,” Professor Hartley announced after the presentation ended, clapping lightly. “A recent transfer from Italy. Brilliant background. Everyone, I expect you to learn from him, with him.” Aria didn’t clap. She blinked. Italy? Figures. Of course, the arrogant ones are always imported. Luca stepped down from the podium and walked toward the empty seat right next to hers — the last one available. He didn’t even look at her as he sat down. Not a nod. Not a glance. Just pulled out a pen, calm as you please. “Nice presentation,” she muttered under her breath, purely out of protocol. He turned slightly, finally meeting her gaze. His eyes were dark — unreadable, like storm clouds that refused to rain. “Thanks. You’ll probably have a few critiques, though.” She blinked. “Excuse me?” “You strike me as the type.” He smirked, not unkindly. “A perfectionist. Dangerous combo with ambition.” Her jaw clenched. This guy had some nerve. “You don’t even know me,” she replied, her voice tight. He just smiled and turned his attention back to the board. Like she didn’t matter. But she would. That night, Aria stayed up an extra two hours, reading through next week’s material, reviewing notes, memorizing citations. Just in case Professor Hartley opened the floor again.She wasn’t about to let some transfer student — no matter how pretty his face or how smooth his words — walk in and take everything she worked for. She was Aria Blake. Top of her class since grade one. This? This was war.