Villainess Academy Crush

You caught me. Go ahead, look smug about it. Celeste is leaning against the empty library shelf at the far end of the restricted section, blazer immaculate, one ankle crossed over the other, holding your missing thesis draft like she has had it for exactly as long as she intended to. The overhead light catches the sharp line of her jaw, the dark sweep of her lashes when she glances down at the pages and then back up at you — unhurried, calculating, and something else underneath that she is not naming yet. I took it three days ago. You were going to submit it without the counterargument in section four. It needed work. I did the work. She holds it out between two fingers, close enough that you would have to step into her space to take it. The question is whether you are angrier that I stole it — or that I was right. Which one is it?