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I didn't mean to cry.
God, I really didn't.
But somewhere between the forced laughter, the pitiful glances, and the way everyone kept pretending not to be watching me from the corners of their eyes, I cracked.
It wasn't loud. I didn't make a scene.
I just told Ethan I had a headache and slipped quietly into the house and locked myself in the bathroom like a coward.
The second the door clicked, I leaned against it, placed my head back on it and sent my eyes to the ceiling.
"Don't cry. Don't you dare cry," I told myself harshly.
But the tears didn't care.
They slid down anyway in a slow, stubborn and quiet manner. The kind of tears that didn't need sobs to feel heavy. They just were.
My reflection stared back at me from the mirror, blotchy and broken, and for several seconds, I didn't recognize her.
I looked like the meme they'd made of me.
No. Worse.
I looked like someone who lost more than a boyfriend.
I looked like someone who'd lost her dignity.
***
It took five minutes and some toilet paper before I emerged with my cheeks dry but still feeling raw. I avoided the backyard and wandered toward the garage instead. It was quiet over there. Away from the music. Away from the fake concern.
I sat on a low brick ledge with phone in hand and eyes scrolling blankly through notifications I had no intention of opening. I just needed something to look at. Something to make it seem like I wasn't just existing on the verge of another breakdown.
That's when Ryan appeared.
I groaned internally because apparently the universe decided that if I was going to spiral, it may as well be in front of the one guy who'd always seen through me somehow.
"You okay? I have been looking for you," he said as he relaxed against the wall beside me with his arms crossed over his chest.
I didn't look up. "Define okay."
He chuckled softly. "You really need to stop saying that. You have been saying that to everyone since you came."
"You really need better pickup lines."
"I'm not flirting with you," he said in a mock-offended manner.
I arched a brow. "Shame. That might've been the highlight of my evening."
He nudged my shoulder with his as a smirk tugged at his full lips. "Alright, hear me out..."
I couldn't stop staring at his lips as I said, "Oh boy. This should be good."
He tilted his head. "What if... and I'm just spitballing here... you pretended to date me?"
I blinked at him slowly. I didn't believe at first that he had just said that. After a moment, when it was obvious how serious it was, I said in a strangled voice, "What?"
He shrugged. "Pretend. You know, like fake date me. You get your power back. Caleb loses his mind. Everyone else shuts the hell up."
I stared at him like he'd just asked me to join a cult. "You want me to fake date you?"
He grinned slowly. "Why not?"
"Ryan, that is-"
"Genius?"
"-ridiculous."
He gave me a dramatic shrug. "Is it, though?"
I snorted. "You're insane."
"Possibly."
"People would never believe it."
He rolled his eyes as he said, "Why not? I'm hot. You're hot. It makes sense."
I rolled my eyes as well as I laughed genuinely for the first time in a week. "Oh my God, Ryan. You're delusional."
"Maybe. But admit it, it would be fun to mess with Caleb's head."
"Revenge-dating you?" I shook my head, still chuckling. "That's your grand plan?"
"I'm just saying... two birds. One stone. Plus, think about the look on Tara's face."
I was about to deliver a fresh sarcastic retort when my phone buzzed.
I looked down at it and the smile on my face slipped instantly.
Ryan noticed immediately. "What?"
I didn't answer. Couldn't. My stomach had bottomed out and my fingers were trembling.
He took the phone from me without asking.
I watched his face shift from confusion to disbelief to pure, simmering rage.
"Motherfu-" He stopped himself as his jaw clenched tight.
On the screen was a post from Caleb and Tara's shared burner account. A meme.
My face had been clumsily photoshopped onto a girl screaming at a cat. The caption read:
"When your meds wear off and you think your ex still loves you."
The comments were worse. Dozens of them. People I'd never met calling me "unhinged," "psycho," "drama queen," "emotionally manipulative."
I was none of those things.
But the internet didn't care.
I felt the tears threaten again but this time, they weren't soft or sad.
They were very angry tears.
I looked at Ryan.
"Still joking?" I asked in a voice that was absolutely shaking.
He wasn't smiling anymore. Instead, he was looking at me like he wanted to burn the whole world down for me.
"I'll kill him," he muttered as he gripped my phone like it was the source of all evil because it had hurt him.
"No," I said as I took my phone back. "You don't have to."
"Yes, I do," he said in a voice that was quieter now. "Nobody gets to treat you like this. Not him. Not anyone."
I let the silence settle between us for a long moment.
Then I took in a deep breath and finally said in a whispe, "Let's do it."
His brows lifted. "Do what?"
"Fake date."
He looked at me for a long moment, as if he was searching my face to see if I was joking. "Seriously?"
I nodded as my lips twisted into something bitter. "Let's give them something to talk about. Something they'll choke on."
A slow smile spread across his face but it wasn't playful this time.
It was fierce and it felt like he was about to make a vow.
"Alright, Skylar Hayes" he said as he offered his pinky like a middle-school dare. "Let's mess up their algorithm."
I linked mine with his as the tiniest smile tugged at my lips.
And that was how the joke turned real.
Somehow, as I looked into his brown eyes, I knew I was about to have the wildest phase of my life.