Thomas and I were sitting face to face inside the student council room while we compared notes, debated on the best solution to solve the budget deficit and take on a suitable course of action for the next meeting we had with Professor Candelas, our faculty advisor.

As I filed the reference books back to the shelves, I took a quick glance at my watch: four-thirty. I guess it did take us twenty minutes. Why was he so adamant on getting me to watch his game? There was really no gain for him other than popularity, which I knew for a fact he already had. Was I just over thinking this? No. Clearly, someone of his stature, presence and mental capabilities couldn’t be just asking me to go for the sake of going. As I put the last book back, I brushed off the tailspin in my mind—I needed no added stress figuring out the inner workings of my rival.

“Is something wrong, Snow?” asked Thomas as he stacked the notebooks and ledgers we’ve been using. He always puts all of his things in such a neat manner. I had been wondering if he had OCD or something, his approach to his studies and his job as a financial head in the student council was always impeccable and error free. If he wasn’t OCD, then maybe he was in a different league of his own.

“Nothing silly. I’m perfectly fine.” I shook my head in a graceful nondescript manner.

“You sure? You have been staring at your watch from the moment you came in,” he said knowingly as he nudged his square glasses higher on his nose bridge.

“Andrei invited me to watch his game and I don’t know if I should go,” I said in a pure soft, princess-like way, putting no indication whatsoever that I’d die before I go.

“You and soccer…that does pose a problem for you huh?” He looked at me with a straight face.

“What do you mean?” I asked point blankly.

“Well, you’re a girl…err I mean you strike me as a girl who likes cute stuff, delicate stuff. So I’m not sure you’d like soccer, brute things or any sports for that matter, even though your grade in P.E. is quite high.”

I smiled at his observation of me that couldn’t have been more wrong. What did he mean I’m a girl that likes cute stuff? Like bunnies? Cause I hate bunnies, they give me freaking allergies. And I don’t like any soccer or sports? Excuse me, I happen to love wrestling and UFC matches. What’s not to like about beating up the weak and coming off triumphant with all the sweat, effort and perseverance you put in training? That, as I believe, is the ultimate reward ever.

“And besides, you’re very nice to everyone,” he continued. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to turn down someone like Andrei. Knowing him, he probably wants you to enjoy his matches.”

He was right. Any decent VP would accept the offer and gladly assume company with him. But still, I didn’t like to be with him. I had tried my best to avoid him when we were freshmen until I could show a better face in front of him—I hate having to show my defeated beauty in front of my enemies. But I guess that didn’t work out pretty much, since we both revolved around in the same circles—elite, broad minded individuals.

“I got an idea,” Thomas grinned enthusiastically.

“What?”

“Why don’t I come with you.”

“Come with me?”

He nodded. “You honor his invite and at the same time when you’re bored we can talk about school and things we both like. Two birds with one stone.”

My mind raced with tons of excuses I could come up with but I felt strangely exhausted, so my head made a bob of confirmation and my lips put up a smile. After all, if I was ever going to defeat the enemy, I had to know his territory and his strength and weaknesses.

In an indignant manner, I said, “Very well.”