Rivalries and Routine

MORNING AT CARSTEN CONDO

The sun streamed through the large windows of Carsten’s condo, highlighting the sleek, modern furniture and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with design books and a few scattered cat-themed trinkets. The kitchen smelled of frying bacon and brewed coffee as Nova stood by the stove, wearing an oversized hoodie and shorts, flipping pancakes with practiced ease.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Nova chirped without looking up. “Finally decided to join the land of the living?”

Carsten trudged into the kitchen, hair a mess, oversized gray hoodie hanging loosely over her figure, paired with black sweatpants. She looked at Nova and then at the counter, where a steaming plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon waited.

“I was alive. I just didn’t want to move,” Carsten muttered, plopping into a chair and grabbing a fork.

Nova chuckled. “Good thing I’m here, huh? Otherwise, you’d starve. Seriously, Cas, you need to learn how to cook at least one decent meal.”

“I can cook instant noodles,” Carsten said between bites.

“That doesn’t count.”

“It counts if I survive.”

Nova rolled her eyes but smiled, pouring two glasses of orange juice and setting one in front of Carsten. “Anyway, what’s the plan for today? Are we going to slay or just survive?”

Carsten swallowed her last bite of bacon. “Slay, obviously. After last night, I need to look untouchable. That pizza thief won’t know what hit him.”

Nova smirked, leaning against the counter. “Oh, we’re still on about Owen, huh?”

“I’m not on about him,” Carsten defended. “I just… don’t like losing. Especially to someone who thinks they’re all that.”

“Sure,” Nova said, her tone teasing. “Anyway, finish up. You’ve got ten minutes before I steal the hot water.”

Carsten groaned but didn’t argue. She polished off her breakfast, grabbed her coffee, and disappeared into her bathroom.

---

Steam from her hot shower wafted into the walk-in closet as Carsten walked in, towel wrapped around her head and another loosely draped over her shoulders. The closet was a shrine to luxury and style, with rows of sneakers neatly displayed, racks of designer jackets and hoodies, and shelves stacked with branded bags and accessories.

Carsten stood in front of her rows of vintage tops, pulling out a fitted black Nike tee with a subtle, retro logo. She held it against herself in the mirror.

“Too predictable,” she muttered, putting it back.

Her fingers skimmed over an Adidas top in cream and navy. Simple but sharp. She tossed it on the bench, pairing it with matching branded joggers in a similar palette.

For shoes, her eyes scanned the shelves before landing on her Adidas Campus 00s in a clean, off-white color. “Perfect.”

She reached for her jewelry tray, slipping on thin silver rings, a delicate chain necklace, and small hoop earrings. Her watch—a Cartier Tank Louis—was the final touch.

Finally, she chose her bag: a vintage Coach shoulder bag in tan leather with gold accents. Stylish but practical for the day.

Carsten took one last look in the mirror, her expression shifting from relaxed to focused.

“Untouchable,” she said with a smirk before heading out to face the day.

---

MORNING AT OWEN’S PENTHOUSE

The sunlight streamed through the glass walls of Owen’s penthouse, casting a golden glow over the sleek, minimalist space. The dark gray interiors and polished black marble countertops created a refined atmosphere, broken only by the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee.

Owen moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, dressed in a simple black Nike tank top and loose Adidas sweatshorts. On his feet were a pair of Adidas Adilette slides, the kind he always wore when lounging at home. His movements were methodical as he flipped an omelet, the sizzling sound punctuating the morning silence.

His phone buzzed against the counter, displaying an incoming video call. Swiping to answer, Cleo’s bright, cherubic face filled the screen.

“Uncle Owen!” she chirped, holding up a pastel blue bunny plushie. “Look what I got at the arcade last night!”

Owen grinned, leaning against the counter. “A bunny, huh? Impressive. Did it take you long to win it?”

“Nope! Only two tries!” Cleo declared, puffing her chest with pride. “Mommy says I’m a claw machine master now.”

“Master, huh?” Owen smirked, crossing his arms. “Guess that makes me the grandmaster since I taught you everything.”

Cleo giggled, holding up another plushie—a panda this time. “This one’s cute too, but you didn’t win anything yesterday, did you?”

Owen’s expression turned mock-serious. “I was giving you the chance to shine, princess. Next time, it’s my turn. I’ll win twice as much, deal?”

“Deal!” Cleo clapped her hands, bouncing with excitement. “But you have to visit soon, Uncle Owen. I miss you!”

Owen’s gaze softened. “I’ll visit after the weekend. Tell your mom I’ll bring you something cool, okay?”

“Okay! Love you, Uncle Owen!”

“Love you too, Cleo. Be good.”

Ending the call, Owen shook his head with a chuckle, placing his phone back on the counter. He finished his breakfast quietly, savoring the calmness of the morning.

After cleaning up, he made his way to his walk-in closet. Rows of meticulously organized clothes greeted him, each section sorted by brand and color. Sneakers lined one wall, but today, they’d remain untouched—he wasn’t planning to leave the penthouse just yet.

He reached for a soft Onitsuka Tiger loungewear set: a dark gray oversized hoodie and matching joggers, perfect for staying comfortable while maintaining his effortlessly stylish image. With his outfit for the day sorted, Owen grabbed a fresh towel and headed for the shower.

---

Carsten and Nova stepped out of their condo building, the familiar rumble of Carsten's BMW M4 echoing in the parking lot. Nova, clad in her usual eye-catching outfit, climbed into the passenger seat while Carsten took the wheel, her Coach shoulder bag resting on the console.

The drive to Aurelian Heights University was brisk, filled with the sound of Nova scrolling through her social media feed and Carsten humming along to the playlist.

As they arrived, Carsten parked her car in her usual spot near the main entrance.

“I’ll go ahead,” Nova said, grabbing her tote bag. “See you!”

“Yeah,” Carsten replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I need to grab something from the canteen first.”

Nova waved her off, heading towards the main building.

---

Owen arrived moments later, his Mercedes AMG GT Coupe catching a few stares as it glided smoothly into the faculty-reserved parking area—an unspoken privilege afforded to the elite. He stepped out, Onitsuka Tiger loungewear set: a dark gray oversized hoodie and matching joggers, perfect for staying comfortable while maintaining his effortlessly stylish image.

“See you later, Rin,” he said as his best friend got out from the passenger side.

“Canteen first?” Rin asked, already knowing the answer.

“Obviously,” Owen replied, heading inside.

---

Carsten strode through the canteen doors, her sneakers squeaking softly against the polished floor. Her eyes immediately locked onto the vending machine—the sacred haven for her favorite potato chips.

At the same time, Owen walked in from the opposite entrance, his gaze focused on the same vending machine.

Neither noticed the other at first, their routines too ingrained to think someone might interrupt them.

Just as Carsten pressed the button to select her chips, a familiar voice cut through the quiet.

“Excuse me, Azaria. What do you think you’re doing?”

She turned sharply, narrowing her eyes at Owen.

“Getting my chips. What does it look like?”

He smirked, stepping closer. “Hate to break it to you, but those are mine.”

“In your dreams,” Carsten shot back. “Finders keepers.”

“You’re impossible,” Owen muttered, pulling out his wallet.

“And you’re annoying,” Carsten countered, crossing her arms.

The vending machine beeped, and the bag of chips fell into the slot. They both reached for it at the same time, their hands brushing briefly before Carsten snatched it away.

“Better luck next time, Knight,” she said with a triumphant grin, walking past him.

“Don’t choke on it, Azaria,” he called after her, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

---

ROOM 1A

The two ascended the stairs to their classroom in perfect sync, their footsteps matching in rhythm. Owen stayed a step ahead, but Carsten was determined not to fall behind.

As they reached the door, Owen held it open—not out of chivalry, but with a mocking smirk.

“After you,” he said.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Carsten replied, brushing past him with her head held high.

Their classmates exchanged glances as the two entered, the air already thick with tension.

“Another day, another war,” Theo muttered grinned in amusement.

Carsten dropped into her seat beside Elara, pulling out her gel pens as if nothing had happened.

Owen took his usual spot at the back, leaning against his chair with a smirk that promised more battles ahead.

The day had just begun.

---

The mid-morning hum of Room 1A quieted as their professor, Mrs. Castillo, strode into the classroom with an air of authority. She carried a stack of papers in one hand and a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Good morning, class,” she began, placing the stack on her desk.

“Good morning, ma’am,” the students chorused, some with more enthusiasm than others.

“I hope you’ve all been reviewing your notes because today’s exam will determine your readiness for the semester,” Mrs. Castillo announced, her voice crisp.

The murmurs began, a mix of groans and whispered prayers.

“But,” she added, raising a hand to silence them, “there’s an incentive.”

That caught everyone’s attention.

“For any student who gets a perfect score, there will be a reward.” Her lips curled into a knowing smile. “An exemption from the next major test and... a bonus mark for your final grade.”

The room buzzed with renewed energy.

At the center of it all, Carsten and Owen exchanged a quick glance.

“This is it,” Carsten muttered under her breath, gripping her pen.

“Perfect score,” Owen said, his voice low but confident. “Mine.”

“In your dreams,” Carsten shot back, her competitive spirit flaring.

The papers were distributed, and silence fell over the room. Mrs. Castillo paced the aisles, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor.

Carsten’s brows furrowed in concentration as she worked through the questions, her pen moving with practiced precision. The challenge thrilled her, each problem sparking her determination to outdo her rival.

Meanwhile, Owen was equally focused, his calm demeanor betraying the sharp calculations happening in his mind. His answers flowed effortlessly, his confidence unshaken.

The tension between the two was palpable, their rivalry so intense it practically created its own atmosphere in the room.

“Time’s up,” Mrs. Castillo announced. “Pens down.”

Carsten placed her pen on the desk with a satisfied sigh, her mind replaying every answer she had written.

Owen leaned back in his chair, a small smirk playing on his lips as he crossed his arms.

Mrs. Castillo collected the papers, her sharp eyes scanning the class. “You’ll get your results tomorrow. Let’s see who rises to the challenge.”

As the class ended, Carsten packed her things with a triumphant air.

“That bonus mark is mine,” she declared to Elara, who chuckled.

“You say that like Owen doesn’t exist,” Elara teased.

Carsten rolled her eyes. “He can try, but he’s not beating me.”

At the back of the room, Owen casually slung his bag over one shoulder, his gaze briefly meeting Carsten’s.

“Good luck holding that confidence, Azaria,” he said as he passed her.

“Good luck eating your words, Knight,” she retorted, not missing a beat.

The rivalry was far from over, and the stakes had just been raised.

---

LUNCH TIME

The university cafeteria was buzzing with life as students flocked to their usual spots. Two tables stood out amidst the sea of chatter and clinking cutlery—one surrounded by Carsten and her girls, the other dominated by Owen and his boys.

The Girls' Table

Carsten sat at the center of her group, her Coach shoulder bag perched neatly on the table beside her lunch tray. She absentmindedly sipped on an iced matcha latte, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“Still thinking about the test?” Nova asked, nudging her lightly.

“Obviously,” Callie chimed in, tearing into her burger. “You can see it on her face. She’s plotting her victory speech.”

Carsten smirked, leaning back in her seat. “Not plotting—preparing. There’s a difference.”

“You and Knight seriously need to chill,” Twyla drawled, half-asleep as she toyed with her fries.

Selene raised a brow, her protective nature kicking in. “Do we, though? If he steps out of line, just say the word.”

“Relax,” Carsten said with a laugh. “I can handle him.”

“By the way,” Nova added, scrolling through her phone. “The buzz around campus is that people are betting on who’s going to get the perfect score—Carsten or Owen.”

Carsten raised a brow. “Betting? Seriously?”

“Welcome to being the talk of the school,” Elara said with a sly smile.

---

The Boys' Table

On the other side of the cafeteria, Owen sat surrounded by his crew. He was casually leaning back in his chair, stirring his iced black coffee while the others devoured their food.

“You know you’ve got the entire campus talking, right?” Jace said, flashing a grin.

“About what?” Owen asked, feigning ignorance.

“The test,” Theo said, gesturing with a chicken wing. “And your little rivalry with Azaria.”

“Little?” Kairo laughed. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

Rin adjusted his glasses. “It’s not surprising. Two top scorers, both equally competitive—it’s bound to attract attention.”

Zeph, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. “Just don’t let it get to your head.”

Owen smirked, his confidence unwavering. “It’s not. I’m just enjoying the show.”

“What’s your game plan?” Jace asked, leaning in.

Owen shrugged. “Same as always. Stay sharp, stay focused, and watch her try to keep up.”

As the lunch hour drew to a close, the inevitable happened—Carsten and Owen’s paths crossed as they returned their trays.

“Azaria,” Owen greeted casually, his smirk firmly in place.

“Knight,” Carsten replied, her tone equally challenging.

“Ready to lose tomorrow?” he asked, leaning slightly closer.

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing,” she shot back, stepping past him without waiting for a reply.

Their respective groups watched the exchange with varying degrees of amusement and exasperation.

“They’re hopeless,” Elara said, shaking her head.

“Hopelessly entertaining,” Jace corrected, grinning.

The lunch break ended, but the tension lingered in the air. Everyone knew tomorrow’s results would only fan the flames further.

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