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At seven-thirty in the morning, I was already seated in the front row center of Room 102 in the Computer Science building.

This was my routine—arrive thirty minutes early, secure the optimal learning position, and maximize every minute. Dense lines of code danced across my laptop screen as I optimized the recursive algorithm I'd written the night before.

"This time complexity could be reduced to O(log n)..." I murmured, my fingers flying across the keyboard.

At eight o'clock sharp, the classroom door was shoved open roughly, and the sudden noise shattered the peaceful silence.

"Dude, how did it go with Sarah last night?"

"Don't even ask. She broke up with me. Said I was a player—completely ridiculous."

I frowned without looking up. Another group of party animals who never knew what they actually wanted.

Through my peripheral vision, I saw a crowd walking in. The guy leading them was tall with an athletic build, wearing a varsity jacket and carrying himself with that typical jock confidence. Behind him followed several similarly dressed guys in athletic wear, plus a few girls who were obviously there to see him.

I kept staring at my screen. These boring social games had nothing to do with me.

"That girl is pretty interesting." A magnetic voice drifted over.

I could feel someone looking at me, but had zero desire to turn around. This feeling of being treated like a museum exhibit was revolting.

"Which one? Oh, that's Kelly Thompson—the computer science goddess. Dude, forget it. She's an ice queen who never gives any guy the time of day."

Science goddess? Ice queen? I snorted inwardly. How boring these labels were. I simply knew what I wanted and wouldn't let meaningless social activities distract me from my goals.

Professor Johnson entered the classroom, and silence fell instantly. I closed my debugging code and prepared to listen attentively.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm Professor Johnson. Welcome to Introduction to Computer Science." The professor set down his materials and scanned the classroom. "This course will help you develop computational thinking and master fundamental algorithm design. Regardless of your academic background, you'll discover the beauty of computer science here."

He wrote several key terms on the blackboard: Algorithms, Data Structures, Problem Solving.

I picked up my pen, ready to take notes.

"Today we'll start with your first programming assignment to give you a taste of hands-on work." The professor turned to face the students. "This is a basic algorithm project that requires pairs to complete. The deadline is next Friday. Please form teams now."

What? Pairs? My pen paused. Teamwork had never been part of my efficient learning plan—other people would only slow down my progress.

The classroom immediately became lively as students began searching for partners. I frowned, considering whether to ask the professor for permission to work independently.

Just as I was about to stand up, a figure appeared at my desk.

I looked up to see the athlete who'd been called "dude" earlier standing in front of me. Up close, he was indeed good-looking—about 6'3", with well-defined features, deep brown eyes, and that charming smile that made countless girls scream.

"Hi, I'm Brett Wilson." He flashed that perfectly practiced smile, his voice deep and magnetic. "Want to partner up?"

I replied without mercy: "I know who you are, but I don't need a partner."

His smile froze for a moment, clearly not expecting such direct rejection.

Looks like this campus star wasn't used to hearing 'no.' I turned my computer screen toward him, showing the code I'd already completed. "I've finished the basic version that the professor requested. Now I'm working on advanced optimization."

Brett's eyes widened as if he were seeing an alien. I guess to him, this code really did look like alien writing.

"You... already finished it?" he asked in shock.

"Just the basic version. It's quite simple." I replied flatly. This level of algorithm implementation really wasn't difficult—anyone who studied seriously could complete it.

Just then, Professor Johnson noticed our situation and walked over. "Kelly, I said pairs are mandatory. No exceptions."

I sighed internally—there was no escaping this. I looked at Brett and decided to set clear collaboration rules. "Fine, but I have conditions."

"What conditions?" he asked eagerly, hope flickering in his eyes.

I pulled out paper and pen, quickly drafting a detailed project timeline. Task divisions for each phase, completion times, quality standards—I wrote everything clearly.

"This is our timeline." I pushed the paper toward him. "You just need to complete your parts on time. No delays, no complications. I'll handle the core algorithms and system integration."

Brett took the paper and studied my timeline, his expression growing increasingly surprised. I knew this might seem strict to him, but efficient collaboration required clear rules.

"Don't you think we should get to know each other first?" he asked tentatively. "Like exchange phone numbers, or..."

"Getting acquainted won't help us complete the assignment." I coldly interrupted him. This pickup approach wouldn't work on me. "I can give you my number, but only for project communication."

I tore off a piece of paper and neatly wrote down my number along with usage guidelines: Please contact during work hours only, except for emergencies.

Brett took the note and couldn't help laughing when he saw my additional instructions. "Work hours? We're doing a school assignment, not working at a company."

I adjusted my glasses and looked at him seriously. "I'm used to working according to plan. I don't want your procrastination to affect our progress."

He looked somewhat surprised, but this was actually better—we could focus more on completing the project.

"When do we start?" he asked.

"Now." I'd already opened a new document and begun requirements analysis. "This is the functional breakdown diagram. You're responsible for the data input module and user interface. I'll handle the core algorithms and output processing."

I rapidly typed on the keyboard, establishing a complete project framework within minutes. Brett watched the continuously updating code on screen, seeming somewhat surprised.

"You're... really impressive," he said sincerely.

I didn't look up. "This is basic knowledge that should be expected."

The dismissal bell rang. I closed my computer and organized my notes. Other students began packing up, and the classroom became noisy again.

"So we'll meet at the library tomorrow?" Brett asked.

"No need." I shouldered my backpack. "I'll send detailed requirements to your email. You can complete your part in your dorm. If you have questions, send an email or text—don't call."

I walked straight toward the door, feeling Brett still standing there, probably still processing everything that had just happened.

After leaving the classroom, I took a deep breath. I hoped this collaboration would go smoothly without causing me too much trouble.

But honestly, Brett's reaction was somewhat unexpected. Most guys who got rejected by me would tactfully back off, but that unyielding look in his eyes...

Whatever. As long as he could complete his tasks on time. I shook my head, pushing the thought away.

I had more important things to do—Advanced Algorithms class this afternoon, preparing for tomorrow's Data Structures exam tonight, and optimizing several programming projects I was working on.

Brett was just a temporary collaborator who wouldn't occupy any position in my life plan.

At least, that's what I thought at the time.