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The answer caught me off guard, and I narrowed my eyes. “And you’re just admitting that?”

His expression is still the same mixture of cold and detached. “You’re not bothered by the distinction.” I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes. His eyes stay on mine when he continues, “You’re bothered that you like having it.”

He is right, I’m not bothered by it, if anything I strangely like it.

For once, someone isn’t looking at me like I’m something to manage, dismiss, or even as someone that needs to be corrected before I’ve even finished speaking. He listens and challenges me. He expects me to have an answer.

Mister Caldwell has no reason to flatter me. I have spent years fighting to prove I am capable and he simply assumes that I am.

And somehow, that feels more dangerous than being underestimated.

“Point for me,” he murmurs finally, and I understand then, that I lost.

He stays there, patient, and perfectly composed. "Well?" he finally says, proud of himself.

“Very well…” I finally murmur. “I'll work with you.”

A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth, his gaze still on me, as if he's won much more than the game. “You lack enthusiasm about working with me.”

“I lost. I'm a sore loser, I'm afraid.”

“You lost because you played badly,” he murmurs.

I frown. “And you didn't?”

Almost amused, he replies. “Never.”

“It was rigged from the start.”

“No,” he laughs before rolling up his sleeves. “It was inevitable.”

I give a dry laugh before replying, “That’s reassuring. Looking forward to working with someone so gentle.”

“I get that a lot,” he says, already reaching for his jacket back. He slips it back on, as if the conversation were over and he has no intention of lingering.

“Where are you going? You need to explain this to me first.”

I expect him to launch into something more, for things to really get going.

But he just shakes his head. “Not tonight.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No. You have class tomorrow.”

“You made me come here at midnight just to tell me to go to sleep?” I ask as I stand up, mirroring him.

“Yes.”

“Control freak.” I reply.

He looks at me for a long time before letting out a soft and deep chuckle. “Touché.”

“See you tomorrow, then.” I turn on my heel and take a few steps, almost out of the aisle, when I hear a “Wait.”

I stop and close my eyes briefly before turning around. “Yes?”

He's already standing close to me when he replies, “Nothing.”