Savannah Reyes stared at the printed list on the bulletin board like it had personally betrayed her.
Debate Team Nationals Pairs: Team A Savannah Reyes & Eli Ramirez
"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered under her breath, biting the inside of her cheek.
"Rough draw?" a voice said beside her, too amused.
She didn't have to look to know it was him.
Eli Ramirez.
The boy who had made fun of her color-coded flashcards last year. The boy who never remembered deadlines but somehow aced his presentations. The boy who once told her she argued like an angry librarian—and said it like it was charming.
She glanced sideways. He was leaning against the wall like he belonged in a teen drama. Hoodie sleeves half-pushed up, earbuds dangling from his neck, that signature lazy grin already in place.
"I've had stomach flu that was more tolerable than this," Savannah said flatly.
"Ouch." He held a hand to his chest. "That's the second-worst thing someone's said to me this week."
"What was the first?"
"My mom said I looked tired."
"…She's not wrong."
He laughed—just a quiet huff of amusement—and Savannah hated how human it sounded. Not cocky, not fake. Just… real.
"Let's get this over with," she muttered, walking away.
They met up in the library that Friday, their first official practice as partners.
Savannah had already laid out her notes. She brought highlighters, backup index cards, and even printed a mutual calendar. Organization soothed her. It gave her control. Structure.
Eli showed up eight minutes late with a bag of chips and exactly zero pens.
She didn't look up. "I said 4 p.m."
"It's 4:08. That's practically punctual in my world."
She exhaled slowly. "If we're going to work together, you need to take this seriously."
"I do take it seriously. I just don't need a PowerPoint to breathe."
"You're not funny."
"I think I'm hilarious."
She finally looked at him. "You think everything's a joke."
Eli's smile flickered for a second—so fast she almost missed it.
"Yeah," he said, "well. Some people joke to stay sane."
He flopped into the chair across from her, crunching his chips a little too loudly, like he was daring her to tell him off.
And she almost did.
But instead, she handed him a pen.
And for the first time, he took it without a snarky comment.