Fake Dating The Bad Boy For Revenge

SLOANE'S POINT OF VIEW.

Everyone says heartbreak feels like drowning. They were wrong.

Mine felt like fire. A slow, creeping burn in my lungs, searing to the back of my throat until I could not scream.

Matt, my best friend boy I've loved since forever, the boy I made cardboard cut-outs of, replaying the moment he'd ask me to be his finally, stands there, laughing with the girl who's made my life hell for two years that I have attended this school.

He didn't just break my heart, he handed it to her on a platter of fucking gold.

And now, they're kissing in the hallway like no one else exists, like I don't exist to him. He wraps his hands around her waist, whispering something in her ears. I gulped, a pulsing throb at the back of my throat with each passing second. I felt the familiar pinch at my eyelids, threatening a sob from me.

I wasn't supposed to see it. I don't think anyone was supposed to. The hallway was quiet, too quiet, and empty, but the second I turned the corner, I saw him.

Laughing with her, his hands around her waist as he places his lips on her cheek.

And my world-whatever little of it that was left, crashes and crumbles, under the weight of his betrayal.

He chose her, the girl who sneers at my secondhand shoes, the one who calls me a charity case loud enough for everyone to hear. The one who reminds me every day that my father works for her boyfriend's father... and that my mother is nothing more than a ghost in my medical records.

But the truth is, I lied. My mother isn't dead. She's just... lost in the web she created herself; a web certain to kill me if I dared go too close.

Ravenscroft High wasn't made for girls like me. Not with my curves, my thrifted uniforms, my full scholarship status. Not when the halls are littered with descendants of legacy billionaires and royalty-level egos.

This was a blessing in disguise, a gift from Mr Ravenscroft to my father for his outstanding service at work as his secretary, and the one boy who knew that from my lips, not from some tabloid publication, not from the whispers and sneers of the elite students in this ancient school, stands with the one girl who tormented me for it.

Kissing her, holding her, touching her.

I clutched my books tighter against my chest, backing away before they noticed me.

But I should've known better.

This is Ravenscroft High.

Someone always notices.

I turn to my right, ready to run out of the hall before I scream, to find a small space to cry, vent, and weep at this betrayal. And that is when I saw him.

Lucien Knox Ravenscroft.

This school's god, king, prized possession, hockey and lacrosse champion, the son of Eldric Ravenscroft, and the very bane of my existence. The one person who would inherit the trillions of dollars from his aristocratic family was staring at me.

His blue eyes on me permeate something into the air, their icy nature suddenly rendering the room cold as chills run up my spine.

His tattoos peek from the collar of his shirt; the drawing of a skull on his neck was clear as day.

He's my bully, the son of my father's employer, and my benefactor, the one who started this entire bullying of Sloane agenda.

It started one day in the cafeteria. I unknowingly sat on a seemingly empty seat, ready to dive into the food my father made for me for my first day.

'For good luck,' He had said, a soft twinkle in his eyes just before he tenderly brushed my hair with a palm, bringing my forehead to his lips.

Little did I know, I had entered hell.

The hall had suddenly become silent the moment I sat on the white seat cushion-like enclave of the chair; the material was so soft I felt like I was one of them. All of a sudden, from the corner of my eye, I saw someone, a girl with dark hair and gothic vibes, whispering.

"Get up, now!" I should have listened, should have bolted out of the seat like it was acid, or lava, and not the heavenly chair it was, and run.

Far from the cafeteria, this school, this city.

The door to the large hall suddenly opened, the band hitting the wall, jolting me from my almost-opened sandwich.

I looked up, and there he was, the golden boy.

Dressed in his uniform, navy blue pants, white shirt, and navy blue jacket, with tattoos his clothes did nothing to conceal, a piercing gaze, and a smirk on his lips, he walked in. His six-foot frame stood over everyone in the hall as his friends accompanied him.

Four tall guys.

Kai Mercer.

Theo Maddox

Killian Lemaire

Caspian Thorne.

The four horsemen, as they are dubbed in this school, and Roxanne, the school's bimbo, on Lucien's arm. I'd watched with rapt attention, awestruck at the god-like handsomeness of every guy. The moment they walked in, everyone fell to their knees, and I mean every single person.

The servers, the students, the janitors....everyone except me. I'd watched with my mouth agape, wondering if I'd walked into a fucking cult.

"Kneel." Someone hissed beside me, but I could only stare in shock. No, there's no fucking way I'm going to kneel. And I think Lucien heard that thought, because the first place Ravenscroft looked at was the seat I occupied.

I remember his eyes, his stony expression, the rage and irritation in them, and the way I almost wet my pants in fear. That day, I realized one thing: this school was hell, and I am no better than an animal for being a scholarship kid.

Gulping and fighting my fear, something I had to become a master at because of him, I made eye contact, clutching my books to my chest so tightly, I thought they'd crumble under my grip.

I expected him to walk away. No one was allowed to look him in the eye, certainly not the scholarship kids. But I did....I always did, no matter what. I waited for him to walk off. But then I realized that was his girlfriend in there... he also needed to know the truth. He'd been betrayed, too.

Lucien stared at me for a second too long, and just when I thought he would walk away, his lips pulled in a vicious smirk. I felt like he could taste the tearing of my heart....or rather, like he'd been waiting for the time I would get betrayed like this.

"Rough day, scholarship girl?" he drawled, pushing off the wall with a lazy elegance that shouldn't have looked that good.

I hated him.

Or at least, I was supposed to.

Lucien was the kind of boy who didn't just rule the school; he owned it.

Literally.

His family founded the Ravenscroft group. His father sat on the board, and his last name was on the east wing of the building. Meanwhile, I was the daughter of the help. It was almost laughable.

I stiffened at the slow drawl of his voice. "Go to hell, Ravenscroft."

He chuckled, like I'd told a joke, his gaze not once turning from mine.

"Already there, darling. Want to join me? I could use the company."

I moved to step past him, but he stepped in front of me, blocking the hallway with one hand braced above my head. His scent hit me. His sharp cologne smelled like leather, and something darker. Something so expensive, it'd buy everything I owned and much more....way more.

"You planning on crying in the girls' bathroom?" he asked, now closer than ever. So close I could feel his knees against my thighs, the contrast of his strong knees to my soft thighs sent butterflies down my belly.

I refused to answer, choosing to bite my tongue instead, before I'd say something to cost my father his job.

His smirk widened, that same dark glint shining in his eyes... as if he craved chaos.

"They don't deserve your tears, Sloane, only I do....I need you to cry for me." His wicked gaze on mine as his golden blonde hair sits beautifully on his head. I caught a hint of a suggestive tone, but I brushed it off....there was no way he was flirting with me.

He looks like he was sculpted by the Greek gods, an object fit to send women, young and old, into a frenzy. The scandal of his having relations with a teacher last year spread around the school like wildfire.

The news then was that a female teacher gave him a head job.

In no time, the teacher was mysteriously fired the following day, and Lucien?

He was apologized to and taken for counseling for a 'Mental health evaluation for wrong done to him.'

The principal was suddenly fired from school as well. Ever since then, no one dared even whisper the news anymore; the fear of extinction in this school was too strong to avoid, and it was the beginning of wisdom.

My name on his lips did something wicked to my spine. My knees shook, almost crumbling, but I pressed myself back to steady my body.

"Leave me alone," I snapped.

"Why? Too sad Matt's kissing my fuck buddy." His chest rumbled with a low chuckle, adding to the frenzy already in my lower belly.

"Shouldn't you be angry?" I blinked at him. "Your girlfriend allows another guy to shove his tongue down her throat...and you're bothering me?" I scoffed, both confused and shocked.

He glanced toward the hallway where Matt and his new girlfriend still stood; oblivious, enamored, and disgusting.

"Oh, I know enough," Lucien said softly, and I swear, I caught a note of anger in those icy blues. "Like how he was your best friend. Like how you loved him, but he never saw you, never gave you his time of day, even after you gave him all of you. Everyone can see it; it's almost sickening."

My throat tightened. "What do you want?"

His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering for a moment too long. He ran his tongue through his lower lip, the move slow, seductive, and tempting, before he directed his contact back to my face.

"To offer you a deal."

A sharp ring of the bell echoed from the cafeteria as people poured out for lunch.

At the sight of students rounding the corner, Lucien takes a couple of steps back, his hands in his pockets lazily as he says, stunning me;

"Date me."

SLOANE'S POINT OF VIEW.

His voice was soft and silky when he said it "Date me."

Two words. One smirk. And just like that, Lucien Knox Ravenscroft had flipped my world upside down all over again.

All of a sudden, the hall became quiet; it already was, but for some reason, it was like all I could sense was the fact that it was just us two in this part of the school, something that had never happened.

Lucien stood in front of me, index fingers under my chin, commanding my attention. As usual, I felt it.....the air about him commanding me to him. He didn't need to place his fingers under my chin....i could never look away ocne he was present.

He looks me dead in the eye, his blue orbs not once straying from mine, while he awaits my response.

I blinked twice, my mouth refusing to stay shut. "What the hell did you just say?" I had to ask just to be sure I heard him. Did the king of the school and practically all of America and Europe ask me to fake date him?

Me?

The daughter of the help? The charity case of the school?

The girl had dumped a bottle of expired milk all over because I had dared to walk past him, brushing hands with his shoulder by mistake. It was an accident. I had been rushing to class, intent on ensuring my record clean sheet was kept in this school, especially because I had to work two times as hard based on my scholarship status.

The rich kids always have to be excellent, or it's a teacher's job and legacy on the line. The memory of what happened to Miss Blaine six months ago was still fresh. She had failed a paper, thinking it was one of the scholarship kids, but unknown to her, it was Lucien's.

Not even twenty-four hours later, she had been blacklisted, fired, and ousted from school, any reasonable job in the country, and all of Europe.

He leaned down, warm breath brushing my cheek. "Fake date me, scholarship girl. You want to make him jealous, and I want to ruin her. You hate them both, and I hate being bored."

My grip tightened around my books. "You're insane. Is this a game to you?"

He grinned again, the action slow and wicked. "Takes one to know one. And yes, this is a game. This school has grown ridiculously boring.....don;t you think we need something fun to bring it on its head?" He practically giggled.....an unhinged flare in his eyes that resembled an awry flame.

All of a sudden, the once-dead hall becomes alive with chatter, the voices of students and their hushed whispers filling the hallway, lighting the place.

We're no longer alone.

"Let me go," I whisper, suddenly feeling self-conscious because everyone now stared at us....or rather me. Over a hundred eyes, as well as those probably already filming, saw the school's golden boy, the king of Ravenscroft, and the scholarship girl, the daughter of the help, in such proximity.

The horror.

I could feel Matt staring, too, or more like he was gawking, but instead of Lucien moving farther away, he leaned closer.

After two years of pretending I wasn't more than a wallflower, I knew Matt's eyes would not move from me, especially in this position.

After years of him treating me like he couldn't see my stares of longing, my affection, every time I made myself available to him for whatever he needed, even if it would be at my detriment, because all I'd hoped for was that he would once, finally, notice me.

The girl he almost turned into a spectacle amongst his other rich friends.

I once blamed my status on it, thinking that if I had been rich, he would at least like me, at least treat me like a girl, and not one of the bros.

Lucien looked down at me with eyes like frostbite and wildfire, blue and burning.

"You in or not?" he asked, still smirking, his hand now resting beside my head.

I didn't answer, my cheeks probably red with embarrassment and anger. Taking a chance into my hand, and praying to God that it would work, I duck under his arm and rush out of the hall like my feet are on fire, escaping the eyes of every student there.

And especially, Lucien.

That night, as I lay in my bed, a memory came to me, one I cherished close to my heart.

When I was nine, Matt taught me how to ride a bike. The memory of my screeches and squeals in the air as he held onto the handle of the bike with me, his knowledge of my fear palpable to him as he guided me. I remember falling when I got too scared, thinking he was still holding the handle, only to realise he wasn't anymore. With a scream, I had fallen, calling out his name.

Not that of my dad.

Or my grandfather, but his.

I scraped my knees, and he kissed them better.

I fell, and he caught me.

He told me I'd always have him.

I believed him.

Now I wonder if the devil tells bedtime stories too, after all, so did Matt.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING.

I found him by the east library balcony, leaning against the railing like he was posing for a damn photoshoot. One arm slung lazily over the edge, the other bringing a black flask to his lips. The wind tousled his golden hair just enough to make him look sinful.

It should be a crime for anyone to look that good, to have such good form, such a good body, such a handsome face.

No.

A face out of this world.

I wanted to hate him, I'm supposed to hate him, but instead, I wanted to touch him.

Even if it burns me... even if it damns me.

"You serious about earlier?" I asked, still refusing to believe that he was telling the truth.

Lucien didn't look at me at first. He just took another sip. "I don't joke."

I folded my arms, standing stiff at the edge of his orbit. "You humiliated me in front of the entire school."

"Yeah, and now, you could humiliate him," Lucien says, finally turning. "Trust me, he could be the one bleeding by the time you're done with him, protégé."

I hated how calm he sounded. Like this was just another Tuesday night for him, like ruining reputations and playing puppet master in his daddy's kingdom was a normal thing. He was the king of the chessboard, placed in this school with all of us for one reason, for one goal.

To remind us all that he is our king, and the rest of us, we're peasants, and we must kiss the fucking ring or face the consequences.

"I'm not your toy," I said, trying to sound defiant and not afraid.

He chuckled, jumping off so he stepped closer, making me inhale his scent again, the rich, luxurious smell of his musky cologne wafts in my senses.

. "No. You're my co-conspirator." He corrects.

I stared up at him, the night air thick between us. "Why me?"

Lucien tilted his head, studying me like I was a riddle or a puzzle he planned to dismantle.

"Because you're the only one who has nothing left to lose," he said.

His words landed like a slap, sharp, personal, and true. I swallowed hard. "And what do you get out of this?"

His smile returned-slow, dark, and looking delicious. "Roxanne's torment. Watching me 'fall' for the scholarship girl will make her spiral."

My lips twitched. "That's twisted."

"That's strategy," he replied. "And it works."

I stepped back. "So I'm just a tool."

"You're the tool," he said, with a spark in his eye. "The perfect tool. Sharp, useful, and fuckin dangerous." The worst part? I didn't hate hearing that.

Lucien leaned in again after a moment of consideration, lowering his voice like he was about to spill a secret meant just for me. "If he notices you again, I'll help you destroy her."

"And if he doesn't?" I asked.

His gaze burned. "Then you're mine."

The air caught in my lungs.

I didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't dare show him how much those words wrecked something in me.

But he saw it.

Of course he did.

Lucien Knox Ravenscroft didn't miss things. He devoured them.

"I haven't agreed to anything," I said, voice barely steady.

"No rush," he whispered. "But every second you wait, they win."

He turned to leave, like the conversation didn't gut me. But then he paused, looking over his shoulder one last time.

"Fire looks good on you, Sloane."

---------------------------

Walking down to aerobics class, a voice stops me in my tracks.

It's Matt's and Roxanne's; the sight of two of them sends a dagger to my heart, the blow unrelenting, strong, and painful.

I saw Matt's face.

His arm was around her waist as they snickered at something.

"Really? Is she that pathetic?" Roxanne asks, a smirk on her face as she holds a condescending twitch in her eye.

"Yes, it was so sad to see her like that. Her mother's a pathetic druggie who cannot control her desire for some smack, crack, and whatever dope she can get her hands on." He says, shocking me as his words about my mother leave his lips.

A secret he swore to never tell anyone.

A secret I whispered to him in confidence, my fear of rejection from the world palpable in that moment.

How could he do this?

The sight of Roxanne laughing hysterically rubs the wound in, like salt on a fresh wound, as I hiss internally from the pain.

My fists clench beside me, anger coursing through me in waves.

Enough is enough.

Enough of being the weak one,

I found him again, this time in the courtyard after morning practice. Sweat clung to his neck, his jersey slung lazily over his shoulder. Girls watched him like he was a storm worth drowning in, worshipping the ground he walked on.

And he? Well, he looked bored until he saw me. I didn't speak at first. I just walked right up to him and met him toe to toe.

His eyebrow arched. "Change your mind?"

I looked him dead in the eye, and the sound of my heart racing struck like thunder in my chest.

"You want war?" I asked.

He nodded slowly. "Always."

I extended my hand. "Then let's burn."

He grinned and stepped over to me, his full height towering, tilting his head until his mouth brushed my ear, not caring about those watching us.

"Welcome to the dark side, scholarship girl," he murmured, his voice rough and velvety.

"We don't do mercy here."

3

LUCIEN'S POINT OF VIEW.

The engine purred beneath me as a beast restrained, its growl low and threatening as I leaned back against the leather seat of my Lamborghini. The early morning sun filtered through the tinted windshield, casting a gold streak of light across the sleek black dashboard. But I wasn't watching the road.

I was watching her.

Sloane.

Curvy, scowling, stubborn Sloane was marching up the sidewalk like she had beef with the universe. Her books were clutched to her chest, as her yellow-dyed hair caught the light of the sun, and glistened like fire. She didn't know I'd been parked on this street for ten minutes.

Correction: She didn't know I'd been watching her every morning since the bet.

Scratch that, every morning since she walked through the halls of Ravenscroft High.

But today wasn't just any morning. Today, war begins. I rolled the window down slowly, waiting until she walked to my car, her attention elsewhere.

"Sloane," I called out.

She stopped like someone had yanked her spine back. Her eyes locked onto mine with the precision of a sniper's aim, her eyes wide in shock and surprise.

"What the hell!?" She exclaims with a hiss, her eyes wide, her palm pressed to her chest with fright.

I smirked. "Don't be so dramatic, babe. Get in."

She didn't move. "Are you stalking me now?" She asks, looking around, perhaps to make sure no one sees her with me. "I am not, babe." She pointed her index finger at my chest....I wanted to place it in my mouth.

I'd understand, after all, there's a five-million-dollar unreleased sports car parked on the road in a lower-class neighbourhood.

"Don't flatter yourself, babe," I lied easily, making sure to call her that again. I loved the tiny scowl on her lips anytime I did it. "I figured you'd walk. And I didn't want my girlfriend showing up to school alone."

"Fake girlfriend," she corrected, hugging her books tighter, her eyes lighting behind her thin glasses.

Feisty, I like it.

"Details to follow." I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. "Now get in."

She folded her arms. "No."

I leaned over, pushed the passenger door open with one casual hand. "Don't make me get out and carry you in. That'd be very dramatic. And you know I don't mind an audience." My smirk must have convinced her, because she bites her lip in frustration as she says;

"You're insane."

I smiled, slow and sharp. "And yet, you agreed to date me."

She hesitated. The war in her eyes flickered, and I saw it, the exact moment she caved. Studying her body language works well for me; there's almost nothing I don't know about her.

Sloane yanked open the door and slid into the car, as she hated it. She slammed it shut, throwing me a death glare. "You drive like a serial killer, don't you?"

"Worse," I said, shifting gears. "I drive like a man with no fear." Call it pride, call it foolishness, but I do whatever the fuck I want. No sane officer would stop me. The car roared to life, and we peeled away from the curb, driving off into the street.

"Why are you here?" she asked after a beat, her wild eyes searching all over me.

I didn't look at her. "We're making a scene today, girlfriend, so we might as well start with the entrance."

She snorted. "What, you want to roll up like a movie villain and parade your 'charity case' around?"

I glanced at her, jaw tight. "Don't ever call yourself that again."

Roxanne gave her the nickname, and the second it came out of her botox-filled lips, I hated it.

She blinked in shock.

"I don't do pity, Sloane. Calling yourself a charity case makes me think you want me to coddle you," I added. "I do power plays. And this..." I reached across the console and took her hand in mine. She tensed, but I didn't let go. "....This is checkmate."

"You're such a bastard," she muttered, staring at our hands.

I leaned in just enough to breathe against her ear. "Hmm...keep flirting with me like that, and I'll make you scream my name loud enough until you lose sleep, baby."

She jerked her hand back immediately, coughing slightly. I smiled at the blush rising from her neck to her cheeks while she fanned herself with her hand. I smiled again....shit.

Cute.....she's cute. I looked away from her with a jerk.....I hated the word, and I've used it twice. The school came into view, its polished gates looming ahead, so we saw the students gathered at the front.

Gossiping, laughing, and existing in their perfect little worlds... well, not so perfect. No one in this school is fucking sane. I pulled into the front loop like I owned the damn building. (Technically, my father did. But we don't brag.)

True wealth speaks for itself, and one thing Eldric taught me is to never speak before my money does.

Power is silent, Lucien. Don't speak, let power do the talking.

Sloane shifted beside me. "You plan to hold my hand the whole time?"

"Yes."

"Even in front of-" Her already large eyes grow even wider at the thought of us in front of Roxanne and Matt.

Cute.

That word again...what's wrong with me?

"Especially in front of them."

She groaned. "You're evil." That sounded like a compliment.

"And you're mine today. Don't forget that, scholarship girl."

I stepped out, walked to her side, and opened the door like we were arriving at a red carpet event.

All of a sudden, the crowd of aimless students pauses, and everyone suddenly turns to the object of interest.

Us.

Phones suddenly fly out, ready to take pictures and videos for the school blog, school gossip channels, and social media, as everyone begins to whisper in their groups.

'Who is Ravenscroft with?'

Sloane stood slowly, clutching her books again like armor.

Clenching my jaw, I took them from her immediately. To make this work, she has to be as strong as possible. There could be no shrinking and no turning back from her. For this to work, we needed just pure revenge, and being a nerd wouldn't cut it. She froze the moment her books left her arms, almost turning as I dropped them onto the seat of my car, but I whispered in her ear.

"Don't turn, and don't you dare pick them up. Keep your head high, chin up, and face them like a queen. No shields," I said. "Just you."

Then I slid my hand into hers, laced our fingers, and tugged her close, her curvy body brushing against my own, sending something into my groin.

That's new.

Her breath hitched. At the contact, her hands were trembling in mine as we walked, me leading her in the middle of the sea of people parting for us as we walked through them.

Every step was fire, the feel of every eye on us was gasoline. But I welcomed it, already used to the eyes of everyone on me from a tender age. Looking ahead, I saw two people standing at the top of the stairs, their eyes wide in shock as the girl looked at Sloane with anger, pain, and malice. The guy looks at Sloane, my girl, in shock and what looks like pain.

Good, let them burn, Sloane. He dared not look at me, at least not when I or anyone else would know. His father needs that investment after all.

"Well, well," Roxanne hissed, her icy eyes flicking down to where Sloane's hand was tangled in mine, her hand clenched by her side into a fist as she tried not to go feral. I know her, she's tethering off the edges in rage. But she can't do anything, not when I'm here anyway, not when I have given Sloane my arm, and with it, my protection.

"Didn't know you started collecting strays, Lucien." Her lips curl in a snarl, her anger and irritation obvious.

Sloane flinched, the act making Roxanne smile, noticing her effect on her.

Bad move, Sloane. I knew I needed to make amends, so I leaned down, whispering just loud enough for Sloane to hear. "Say the word, and I'll ruin her."

My anger rises, ready to obliterate anything in my purview. But Sloane straightened, wiping off every look of hurt on her face as she looked Roxanne in the eye, her lips drawn in a sweet smile. Her voice was steady, cold, and unflinching as she spoke.

"At least I wasn't passed around like Lucien's father's wine collection."

Roxanne's jaw dropped. Matt let out a stunned breath, and everyone held in breath. Shocked and gob-smacked by Sloane's words as they all stand, watching the show we made for them.

Nice fire, Sloane. I think as I smirk, looking at my girl.

'Fake girl,' My inner voice corrects, but I shun him.

"Oh?" Sloane tilted her head. "That shut you up?" my chest flares with pride. I'm so fucking proud. That's what I feel in this moment, pure elation and so much fucking pride at her words.

That's my girl.

The urge to give her a high five rises, but I push it back.

Roxanne recovered quickly. "You think he likes you?" She asked, placing her smirk on her face, a vindictive look in her eyes.

Lucien smirked. "I don't like her." Sloane stiffened beside me, her breath hitched again, but I pulled her closer as I said;

"I'm obsessed."

And then I did it.

In front of everyone, students, teachers, and staff grabbed Sloane's waist, spun her into me, and kissed her.

Not a peck. Not a fake kiss on the cheek. A real fucking kiss. Her lips parted in shock just as her hands gripped my shirt like she forgot how to breathe. My mouth claimed hers, slow and hard and brutal in the way first kisses shouldn't be.

But this wasn't our first kiss.

It was our first war cry, our first declaration of war, of telling both of them.

THE BATTLE LINE HAS BEEN DRAWN.

When I pulled back, her eyes were wild with shock, her lips were red, and her breathing was rough, fast as she stared at me in shock, her eyes somewhat sad.

"You said fake," she breathed, trying to catch her breath. "That felt real."

I brushed her cheek. "Then lie to yourself, scholarship girl. That's what we're both doing anyway."

Matt looked gutted, and Roxanne? She was shaking. With a smile, we walked past them like kings stepping over corpses. And that's when I felt it; the buzzing, vibrating, spreading like wildfire. Like clockwork, and exactly as I planned, the news had spread.

My phone lit up, and so did hers, I checked the screen to see what it was about. It was a photo of us from less than two minutes ago.....The kiss.

Captioned: SHE'S THE REASON LUCIEN, KING OF RAVENSCROFT, DUMPED ROXANNE! LUCIEN KISSES CHARITY CASE, SLOANE BISHOP IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE SCHOOL.

I showed it to her, watching as her mouth dropped open, her eyes wide in shock.

"So fast?"

I smiled.

"Let them talk," I whispered.

"Let them all burn." She responds, walking with her hand fully linked with mine, head high, and chin up.

Then I looked out over the school, smirking because I knew one thing they didn't;

The real games haven't even started.