Mason caught up to her after sixth period, still out of breath from weaving through people who didn't move fast enough.
"Elaina—wait up."
She stopped because she was polite, not because she wanted to. Her backpack strap slipped off one shoulder; she hooked it back on.
"What's up?" she asked.
Mason shifted his weight like his shoes didn't fit right. He kept his eyes on the floor for a second too long before forcing them up.
"So… yeah. I like you," he said. Simple. Blunt. The kind of blunt that comes from hyping yourself up in a bathroom mirror. "And I was thinking maybe we could try going out."
Elaina's stomach dropped—not in the cute way, in the oh-no-don't-do-this way.
She took a breath. Careful. Gentle. Honest.
"Mason… I really like being friends. I don't want to mess that up."
He nodded fast, like he'd planned for this answer but didn't like hearing it out loud. "Right. Yeah. No, that's cool. Totally cool."
It wasn't cool.
She saw it in the way he kept swallowing nothing.
"I'm serious," she said. "I like talking to you. I just don't feel… that way."
He forced a small laugh. "Yeah. No worries. I didn't expect anything."
But he had.
She could tell.
"Still friends?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah. Of course."
He stepped back, shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket, and walked off too quickly to look casual.
Elaina stood there a moment. Not proud of hurting him. Not wrong, either. Just stuck in that heavy middle ground where doing the right thing still feels bad.
Jordyn's beat-up Honda idled in the pick-up line, AC coughing out lukewarm air. Tessa sat behind her, scrolling. Mariah sat in the back on the passenger side, knees up, earbuds half-in.
Elaina walked up last, backpack slipping down her arm like it was trying to escape. She opened the door, climbed in, and shut it with a soft thud that sounded heavier than it should've.
Jordyn didn't even wait.
"What happened? You look like someone reset your life on accident."
Elaina buckled in. "Mason asked me out."
Tessa looked up immediately. "Seriously?"
Mariah shoved one earbud out. "Are we cheering or crying?"
"Neither," Elaina said. "I told him I wanted to stay friends."
The car went quiet for a beat.
Then—
Jordyn: "Oh no."
Tessa: "That was honest."
Mariah: "Bold move. Could've been worse. You could've said yes."
Elaina rubbed her forehead. "I didn't want to hurt him."
"Yeah, well, he's hurt," Jordyn said, pulling out of the lane like she had beef with the pavement. "He's one of those guys who hears a soft no and translates it into 'try harder.'"
"He said it was fine," Elaina said.
Tessa shook her head gently. "He said 'fine' the way people say 'I'm good' while bleeding."
Mariah leaned forward between the seats. "Question: should we take bets on how long before the rumor mill mutates it? I'm thinking twenty minutes. Thirty tops."
Elaina stared out the window as the school blurred past. "I didn't say anything mean. I was nice."
"That's the problem," Jordyn said. "You were nice. Nice gets misinterpreted. Nice gets rewritten."
Tessa chewed another pretzel. "People fill in the blanks with whatever makes the best story."
Mariah added, "Which is never the truth. The truth is boring. Drama is free."
Elaina sank back in her seat.
She felt it — that slow, crawling dread.
Elaina sank into her seat, exhaustion settling in her bones.
Jordyn glanced out the window, narrowed her eyes like she'd spotted a tax fraud case.
"Oh, absolutely not. Nope."
Elaina lifted her head. "What now?"
Jordyn pointed. "That criminal."
Rome Riley strolled across the parking lot like he'd forgotten the concept of urgency. Hoodie loose. Hands in pockets. Hair doing whatever it wanted. That slow grin he wore for no one but himself.
Jordyn rolled down the window.
"ROME!"
He stopped mid-stride, pivoted like a Roomba hitting a wall, and walked over to the car.
He rested one hand on the door frame, leaning in like they were old friends, even though he never leaned on anything with purpose.
"What's the emergency?" he asked.
Jordyn glared. "Where's my Chromebook charger?"
Rome processed that for a moment. "Hm?"
"The charger you took in advisory," Jordyn said. "You said—and I quote—'I'll give it back in five minutes.' It's been seventy-two hours."
Rome nodded slowly, the way someone nods when pretending they're downloading the information.
"Yeah. About that."
Tessa looked up from her phone.
Mariah leaned in like it was episodic content.
Elaina stayed quiet, watching him with a kind of horrified curiosity.
Rome shrugged. "Did you check Rwanda?"
Jordyn blinked. "Why would it be in Rwanda?"
"I don't know. Why'd you give it to me? We both make bad choices."
Elaina tried — and failed — to hide a smile.
Jordyn slapped the steering wheel. "Rome, what is wrong with you? You're the Grinch to my Who-ville."
Rome didn't even blink.
"You're the nails to my chalkboard."
Jordyn leaned out the window.
"You're the ripped bag to my groceries!"
Rome looks at her for a second.
"You're the Ebola to my African prositude."
Jordyn froze.
"Rome. Oh my god. You can't SAY that. That's— that's racist. Or offensive. Or… something. I don't even know what category that sits in, but it's wrong."
Rome stopped for a beat, a slow smile crawling across his face. "Your the..." he starts laughing. "You're Anne Frank to my attic."
Jordyn's jaw dropped so fast it almost hit the dashboard.
"ROME. NO. Absolutely not. You need to be banned from speaking. Like—silenced. Muzzled. Put in a soundproof box. What is WRONG with you?"
She pointed toward the sidewalk like she was shooing off a feral animal.
"Get out of here. Go. Leave. Vanish. I can't look at you right now."
Rome just broke—full laughter, hands on his knees, shoulders shaking.
Then he straightened, wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, and walked off like he'd just completed a personal mission.
The second Rome walked off—still laughing like he'd inhaled chaos—Jordyn rolled the window up so hard it squeaked.
"WHAT is wrong with him?" she said, hands tight on the wheel like she wanted to strangle it.
Tessa stared at the empty spot where Rome had been, her face a monument of disleblief. "Does he… talk like that every day?"
Mariah snorted. "Talk? That wasn't talking. That was a cry for help wrapped in a stand-up routine."
Jordyn shook her head, leaning back. "I swear, every time he opens his mouth, a guidance counselor gets heartburn."
Elaina tried to look out the window. Tried to stay invisible.
Did not succeed.
Tessa squinted at her. "Hold on. Why are you smiling?"
"I'm not," Elaina lied immediately.
Mariah pointed at her like she'd caught a criminal. "You totally are. You smiled at the Rwanda comment. I saw the micro-lift."
"I did not smile."
"You did," Jordyn said. "Which is concerning. That means you found him funny. That means you're broken."
Elaina groaned into her hands. "I didn't smile. It was like— a reflex. Like when someone drops a tray and you laugh before asking if they're okay."
"So you laughed at international tragedy," Mariah said. "Great. You and Rome can start a club."
Jordyn exhaled so dramatically the AC vents rattled. "Anyway. Enough about The Menace. Back to your emotional crisis."
Elaina slumped lower. "Do we have to?"
"Yes," all three said at once.
Tessa twisted her hair around her finger. "We're circling back because you look like you got hit by a bus made of feelings."
Elaina stared at the dashboard. "It just… sucked."
Mariah tapped her leg against the seat. "Yeah, well, feelings are basically landmines. You didn't plant this one."
Jordyn pulled out of the parking lot with a hard turn that made everyone lean. "He's gonna be weird about it for a bit. That's normal."
"He said it was fine," Elaina murmured.
Tessa raised a brow. "He said 'fine' like people say 'fine' right before deleting social media."
Mariah nodded. "Which is better than him confessing over text with emojis. That's the nuclear option."
Elaina let her head rest against the window. "I hate this."
Jordyn softened her voice a fraction. "You were honest. Honest hurts, but lying hurts worse."
Elaina didn't answer.
The ride hummed around her—AC wheezing, pop station fuzzing, her friends waiting without pushing harder.
Jordyn pulled up to Elaina's house, brakes squeaking like they were tired of existing. The sky had that late-afternoon glare that made everything look a little washed out.
Elaina unbuckled slow, like the seatbelt was the only thing keeping her upright.
"You good?" Jordyn asked.
"No," Elaina said, opening the door. "But I will be."
Tessa leaned forward between the seats. "Text us if you need anything. Or if Mason does something… I don't know. Dramatic."
Mariah added, "Yeah. If he writes a poem about you on Snapchat, we want screenshots."
The corners of Elaina's mouth lifted, a fleeting, fragile gesture. . "Thanks. I'll see you guys tomorrow."
"Bye, child of emotional ruin," Jordyn said, waving her off.
Elaina stepped out, shut the door, and the Honda rolled away, loud engine and all.
The street got quiet fast.
Her house looked exactly how it always did at this hour—driveway empty, blinds tilted half-open, porch light off. A still frame.
She unlocked the door, walked inside, and dropped her backpack by the entry table. The house echoed a little. It always did when no one else was home.
Only child.
Parents at work until six.
Silence like a roommate.
Elaina lay on the couch, one arm over her eyes, the TV off, the room dim except for the dull light coming through the blinds. The house hummed with refrigerator noise and nothing else.
The front door opened a little after six.
Keys hit the bowl by the entry.
A purse dropped with the sound of someone who'd carried it too long.
"Elaina?" her mom called.
"Living room," Elaina said, not moving.
Her mom stepped in still wearing scrubs, hair pulled back, exhaustion written into her posture. She kicked off her flats with a soft grunt and collapsed onto the other end of the couch.
"How was school?" she asked.
"Fine."
Her mom raised one eyebrow. "That was the least convincing 'fine' I've heard since a patient told me they 'weren't nervous' while actively sweating onto the chair."
The fight left her shoulders. "Just a long day."
"Mm." Her mom nodded, accepting it without prying—one of her better traits.
She leaned her head back against the cushion. "You want to hear about my day?"
"Sure."
"I had a root canal at ten that should've taken forty minutes."
"And?" Elaina asked.
"It lasted two hours." Her mom closed her eyes like she was trying to forget. "Two. Hours. You know why?"
Elaina shook her head.
"The man kept trying to bargain with me. Bargain. Like this was a yard sale and not his mouth. He kept saying things like, 'What if we don't numb it? Will that be faster?'"
Elaina's face twisted. "Why would anyone say that?"
"I don't know," her mom said. "Some people want to experience dental pain, I guess."
A beat.
Elaina almost smiled. Almost.
Her mom sighed again, softer. "Anyway. I survived. Barely. And you… survived high school. Which is worse."
Elaina sank deeper into the couch cushions. "It felt like it today."
"I'm heating up leftovers in a bit," she said. "Tell me if you want some."
"Okay."
Her mom stood, stretching. "And Elaina?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't have to pretend things are fine when they're not."
Elaina stared at the ceiling.
"I know," she said quietly.
Her mom went to the kitchen.
The house fell back into silence—comfortable, but heavy around the edges.
The garage door rumbled open at 6:34, right on schedule.
Elaina heard it through the floor like a slow, tired earthquake.
A minute later, the door connecting the garage to the kitchen swung open.
"Helloooo?" her dad called, voice already worn from a full day.
"In here," Elaina's mom answered from the kitchen.
Her dad stepped in still wearing his work shirt—dark blue, name patch stitched crookedly over the chest, the smell of metal and dust clinging to him. He set his lunchbox on the counter with a thud.
"Long day?" her mom asked.
"Wire harnesses," he said like it was an illness. "That's the whole explanation."
Her mom gave a sympathetic wince. "Ah. The cursed spaghetti."
"Exactly." He walked into the living room and spotted Elaina sprawled across the couch. "Hey, kiddo."
"Hey," she said, sitting up a little.
He dropped into the armchair like gravity hit him harder than everyone else. Shoes off, socks mismatched, hands rubbing his face.
"What'd I miss?" he asked.
Her mom walked in with a glass of water. "I got asked to speedrun a root canal."
"And I survived school," Elaina added, deadpan.
Her dad nodded. "Both sound equally traumatic."
The three of them settled into a comfortable silence—the kind that only happens when everyone is too tired to perform.
The house felt small, warm, lived-in.
Kitchen light on.
TV remote untouched.
A faint smell of reheated leftovers drifting in.
Elaina tossed her backpack on the floor and sank onto her bed. She checked her phone because muscle memory told her to, not because she expected anything.
Coven 🧃
9 unread.
She opened it.
Jordyn: okay so don't freak out
Tessa: it's not BAD bad
Mariah: it's just. ppl are already talking in other chats
Elaina stared at the screen, the words not quite settling.
Already?
Elaina: talking about what
Jordyn: …you + mason
Elaina: omg
Mariah: not big. not like school-wide
Tessa: just little pockets
Jordyn sent a screenshot from another groupchat — names cropped.
"Wait did elaina really say no."
"Yeah. My friend was nearby. said it was awkward"
"lowkey didn't expect her to say no to him??"
Elaina felt her a hollow feeling open up beneath her ribs. Not panic — just that irritated, why-is-this-a-thing feeling.
She scrolled.
Mariah: it's like. people who have nothing else to do
Tessa: someone said they "felt bad for him" which. Whatever
Jordyn: they weren't dragging you. more like confused
Mariah: like "why would she say no, he's cute??"
Tessa: which is such a 15-year-old girl thing to say i'm embarrassed for them
Elaina: I wasn't mean. I just said I wanted to stay friends
Jordyn: yeah and THEY don't know that
Jordyn: cuz Mason didn't tell them
Mariah: probably cuz he's embarrassed
Tessa: which is normal. but annoying.
Elaina sighed and fell back on the bed.
This felt… familiar.
Not dramatic.
Just that small-town, small-school ecosystem where boredom fills the silence with whatever story is closest.
Her phone buzzed again.
Jordyn: it's not a big deal. Trust.
Mariah: honestly it'll die before lunch tomorrow
Tessa: people will find a new shiny object. probably rome saying something illegal again
Elaina let the phone fall onto her stomach.
Yeah.
That felt more accurate.
Annoying, but survivable.
…
By third period, Elaina could tell something was… off.
Not dramatic. Not movie-level whispers.
Just different.
People didn't look at her the way they usually did.
They looked a little too long.
A girl from her math class — someone she'd maybe spoken to twice in her entire life — gave her a tiny, pitying smile when Elaina walked in.
Two boys near the windows stopped talking when she passed their desks. They weren't staring, but their eyes flicked up, then away, like they didn't want to get caught.
At her seat, her lab partner, Kendra, offered a hesitant, "Hey," like Elaina had recently survived a natural disaster.
Even the teacher glanced at her with that weird softness adults use when they know something you don't think they know.
Elaina sat down slowly.
The air felt heavier. Charged.
Like the room had already been talking before she got there.
Kendra leaned in.
"Uh… you good?"
"Yeah," Elaina said. "Why?"
Kendra's eyes darted away. "No reason."
Which meant there was a reason.
And Elaina felt it — that quiet, irritating pressure of being the subject of small gossip. Not loud enough to be public.
Just… something everyone had opinions about.
She opened her notebook, pretending not to notice.
Pretending the stares weren't happening.
But they were.
And every time she caught someone's eye, they looked away just a fraction too fast.
Not mean.
Not mocking.
Just curious.
Like they were all trying to match her face to a story they'd heard secondhand.
…
The locker room buzzed with noise — metal, voices, the low hum of too many conversations overlapping. Elaina sat on the bench, tying her sneakers, half-hidden by her locker door.
Then the whispers drifted in.
Two girls — a little down the row, two lockers between them, not even trying that hard to be quiet.
"I still can't believe she said no," one said.
"To Mason?" the other whispered back. "Yeah. Like… what planet is she on?"
A scoff. "Seriously. He's so nice. And hot. And tall. If he asked me out, I'd say yes before he even finished the sentence."
"Same. I'd marry him on sight."
They giggled — not loud, but sharp.
A locker clicked shut.
"And she didn't even let him down easy," the first girl said. "People said she just hit him with the 'let's be friends' and dipped."
"That's basically a slap."
"I know. It's kinda stupid. Like… who does that to Mason?"
Elaina's fingers tightened around her laces.
Stupid.
"If she didn't want him, she could've at least been nicer. Or thought about how it'd make him look."
"Exactly. She made herself look worse than him, honestly."
Another laugh — lighter, but crueler because of how casual it was.
"If Mason asked me out? God, I'd sprint into his arms."
"Same. She's wild for wasting that."
Someone's locker slammed across the room, and the conversation dissolved as the girls moved away, voices blending into the noise.
Elaina sat there another five seconds.
The final bell hit like a mercy kill.
Elaina walked out with her backpack half-zipped, feeling the day still stuck to her skin — the stares, the whispers that weren't loud but weren't subtle either, the way people looked at her and then looked at Mason like she'd done something unspeakable.
Her friends were in their usual spot by the picnic tables. Jordyn sitting on top of the bench like it was her throne. Tessa eating something that definitely wasn't hers. Mariah scrolling, sunlight bouncing off her screen.
They all looked up when they saw her.
Jordyn squinted. "You look like you've been emotionally waterboarded."
Elaina dropped her bag onto the table and sat down. "I've had the worst day."
Mariah locked her phone. "What happened now?"
Elaina huffed out a breath. "People are acting weird. Not like… bullying-weird, but just—looky. Whispery. Passive."
Tessa tilted her head. "Like side-eye?"
"Yes," Elaina said. "Side-eye and the 'oh my god she rejected Mason' energy."
Jordyn leaned forward. "Who said something?"
"No one to my face," Elaina said. "But in PE? I heard two girls talking about how stupid I am for turning him down. They didn't know I was there."
Mariah groaned. "Of course. Gym-class philosophers."
Tessa shook her head. "That's so annoying. You didn't do anything wrong."
"I know," Elaina said softly. "But it doesn't feel like that."
Jordyn drummed her fingers on the table. "People get dramatic about Mason because he's tall and smiles like a golden retriever. It'll pass."
"Yeah," Tessa agreed. "The attention span around here is, like, eight minutes."
Mariah nudged her. "By tomorrow, someone else will do something embarrassing. Maybe even us."
That finally got a small laugh from Elaina.
Jordyn leaned back. "Look. You were honest and kind. Anyone calling you a bitch is projecting their own insecurities and lack of hobbies."
Elaina rested her chin on her hand. "I don't want people thinking I'm mean."
"You're not," Tessa said.
"You're literally the opposite of mean," Mariah added.
Jordyn nodded. "If you were mean, you'd be way happier right now."
Elaina snorted. "Thanks?"
Two days later, it wasn't fading.
It was getting worse.
Elaina stomped across the courtyard like she wanted the pavement to take the hint and crack. Her backpack slid off her shoulder again; she yanked it back up like she was punishing it.
Her friends were already at the bench.
They didn't even bother pretending they hadn't been waiting for the explosion.
Jordyn sat up. "Oh no. She's in murder mode."
Tessa pointed. "Look at her eyebrows. That's homicide."
Mariah leaned back. "Blink twice if you buried a body."
Elaina dropped onto the bench hard. "I'm done. Why are people STILL talking about this? It's been two days. TWO."
Jordyn sighed. "Yeah. It's everywhere. I heard a sophomore say you 'friendzoned a ten,' whatever that means."
Tessa shook her head. "People act like you punched him in the face. You were nice."
Mariah raised a hand. "I heard someone at lunch say Mason should 'give you space so you realize your mistake.' Like you're gonna wake up and apologize for not dating him."
Elaina pressed her palms into her eyes. "I didn't do anything wrong. I didn't tell anyone. I didn't embarrass him. I was literally polite."
"No one cares," Jordyn said. "They just want something to talk about."
Elaina exhaled sharp and angry. "I don't like this version," she muttered.
"I kind of do," Jordyn said. "She might actually set the place on fire."
Mariah sighed. "Short of announcing it on the intercom, I don't know how you get people to shut up."
Elaina leaned back, staring at the parking lot. Mason was across the way, laughing with someone — like he hadn't been crushed, like she was the only one carrying the fallout.
"I just want it to stop," she said quietly. "I want people to move on."
The table went still.
Then Jordyn said, "Okay. Then we stop letting them control the story."
Elaina lifted her head. "How?"
Jordyn shrugged like the idea wasn't already forming.
"We change it."
Elaina narrowed her eyes at Jordyn.
That look.
She knew that look.
It was the spark — the one Jordyn got right before suggesting something illegal, insane, or socially catastrophic.
"No," Elaina said immediately.
"You don't even know what I'm about to say," Jordyn said.
"I don't need to. The face says enough."
Jordyn leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Okay, listen. If the problem is people thinking you rejected Mason because you're cold or picky or whatever—"
"I'm not—"
"—then you end it by showing you didn't reject him because he wasn't good enough. You just… liked someone else."
Elaina stared. "You're not saying I should date someone."
"I'm just saying," Jordyn said, hands up, "it would fix everything."
Elaina shook her head fast. "No. Absolutely not. I don't want to date anyone right now."
"Fine," Jordyn said, completely unfazed. "Then get a fake boyfriend."
Mariah choked on her water bottle.
Elaina's mouth fell open. "A what?"
"A fake boyfriend," Jordyn repeated. Calm. Dead serious. Dangerous. "Just until the noise dies down."
Elaina turned her neck slow. "That's insane."
"Is it?" Jordyn asked. "Or is it the smartest thing we've ever done?"
Mariah leaned back. "I'm voting insane."
Tessa nodded. "Seconded."
Jordyn ignored them, locking eyes with Elaina.
"You wanted the rumors to stop? This would stop them."
Elaina crossed her arms. "With who, exactly?"
Jordyn sat back, tapping her fingers on the bench like she was scrolling through a mental roster of questionable candidates.
"Okay. First option: Tyler Brooks."
"No," Elaina said instantly. "He vapes indoors."
"Right," Jordyn said. "Forgot he has the lung capacity of a malfunctioning humidifier. Moving on."
Tessa perked up. "What about Jonah? He's nice."
Elaina raised an eyebrow. "Jonah cried during a dodgeball game last year."
"He got hit in the face," Tessa said.
"It was a foam ball," Elaina replied.
Mariah snapped her fingers. "I've got it. Caleb."
"No," Elaina said.
"You didn't even think about it!"
"I don't need to. He wears cologne like he's trying to fumigate the school."
"Fair."
Jordyn squinted into the distance. "Okay, what about—oh god, no, never mind."
"Who?" Tessa asked.
"Grant."
All three girls groaned.
Even the air groaned.
"Absolutely not," Elaina said. "I'm not fake-dating someone who says 'rawr' unironically."
"Just brainstorming," Jordyn said. "No idea is a bad idea."
"That one was," Mariah said.
Tessa threw out another. "Evan?"
"No."
"Ryan?"
"No."
"Nate?"
"No."
Jordyn held up her hands. "Okay, so your standards are like—actual standards. That complicates things."
Elaina sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I don't want a boyfriend. Real or fake. I just… want everyone to stop talking."
"And they will," Jordyn said. "But you have to give them something else to talk about first."
Elaina slumped back, frustrated. "I shouldn't have to."
"You shouldn't," Mariah agreed. "People should mind their own business."
"They won't," Jordyn said. "You know they won't."
Elaina stared at the table, jaw tight.
"Then I guess I'm just gonna have to let it suck for a while," she said.
Jordyn opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, but Elaina shook her head before she could.
"No," Elaina repeated. Firm this time. "No fake boyfriend. No distractions. I'm not doing it."
Jordyn didn't argue right away.
That was the problem.
She just sat there, tapping her nail on the metal bench.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
Then she said, quietly, "Okay. Then you're going to let Mason's fan club roast you alive for the rest of the semester."
Elaina stiffened.
Tessa winced. "Jordyn…"
"No, I'm serious," Jordyn went on. "People already decided you're the villain in a story they made up. They're not stopping. They're doubling down."
Mariah nodded reluctantly. "It's… kinda true. I've already heard three different versions of what you 'actually said.' None of them are human sentences."
Elaina swallowed. "Like what?"
Mariah hesitated.
"One girl said you told Mason he wasn't on your 'level.' Another said you asked him to stop stalking you. And someone else claimed you said he was 'a safe choice and you were bored.'"
Elaina's face twisted. "I didn't say ANY of that."
"I know," Mariah said quickly.
"We all know," Tessa added.
"But they don't care," Jordyn said. "They're gonna make you into whatever gets the most clicks."
Elaina let her head fall back. "Why am I the bad guy in this?"
"Because someone always has to be," Jordyn said. "And Mason's too loved to take the hit. So it's you."
Elaina didn't speak.
Jordyn leaned forward. Softer now. Not pushing — offering.
"Look… I'm not saying get a fake boyfriend because it's fun. I'm saying do it because it shuts people up. It gives them a new headline. It ends the whole Mason pity party."
Tessa nodded. "People can't keep twisting the story if there's a new one right in front of them."
Mariah added, "A harmless lie is better than letting everyone call you something you're not."
Elaina let out a slow, shaky breath.
She hated it.
Every part of her hated it.
But… they weren't wrong.
She was exhausted.
"Just temporary," Jordyn said. "A week. Two. Enough for everyone to move on."
Elaina looked at each of them.
Tessa, kind eyes, worried.
Mariah, biting her straw, waiting for the verdict.
Jordyn,the chaos engine, yes, but also the one who always protected her the loudest.
Elaina rubbed her forehead.
"This is so stupid," she whispered.
"Yep," Jordyn said. "Welcome to public school."
Elaina sighed.
"Fine."
All three girls froze.
"Wait—" Tessa said. "Did you just say—?"
Elaina nodded, defeated. "Fine. I'll do it. A fake boyfriend."
Jordyn lit up like a firecracker.
"Oh my god, yes. This is going to work. This is going to FIX EVERYTHING."
Elaina held up a hand. "Slow down. I'm agreeing to the idea, not—"
"Too late," Jordyn said, standing up. "We're doing this. Operation Public Image Reconstruction is a go."
Mariah groaned. "That's the worst name ever."
"Shut up," Jordyn said. "We'll workshop it."
Elaina sank back.
She didn't know whether this was the dumbest or smartest decision of her life.
Probably both.
"Okay," she said. "If we're doing this… then who?"
Jordyn threw her hands up. "Okay. We've officially listed every guy in this school with a pulse."
Tessa chewed her lip. "We could… look at other schools? Eastview? North Ridge?"
Mariah raised an eyebrow. "Before we start importing boys, can we clarify something?" She turned to Elaina. "What exactly are your standards for this? Because clearly the usual suspects weren't good enough."
Elaina rubbed her palms against her jeans. "I don't know," she said, voice small. "I really don't."
Tessa waited.
Jordyn waited.
Mariah crossed her arms.
Elaina sighed. "Okay. He has to be… decently good-looking. Not annoying."
"Fair," Mariah said.
"And he has to be okay with it ending in, like… a few weeks. Maybe a month. Depending on what happens."
"Temporary boyfriend contract," Jordyn said. "Got it."
"And he can't tell anyone. Ever." Elaina pointed at all three of them like she was swearing them in. "Not his friends, not his cousins, not his barber—no one. It dies with him."
"Wow," Tessa murmured. "That's dramatic."
"It's necessary," Elaina said. "He also can't get jealous or possessive. At all. Not even a little. And he has to be chill. Like… chill-chill. Not loud. Not hyper. Not one of those guys who narrates his own push-ups."
Mariah nodded thoughtfully. "So: attractive, calm, discreet, emotionally stable, and fully willing to disappear after thirty days."
A slow, incredulous smile spread across Jordyn's face.. "You basically want a witness protection boyfriend."
Elaina threw her hands up. "Apparently."
Mariah laughed. "Well, no wonder we can't think of anyone."
Tessa groaned. "Yeah. Because nobody like that exists at this school."
Then the three of them slowly turned to look at each other.
And Jordyn's face shifted first.
That spark.
That dangerous, mischievous spark.
"Elaina," she said. "I just realized something."
Elaina braced. "Oh no."
Jordyn lifted one finger.
"Okay. Hear me out."
Elaina's entire soul tensed. "Absolutely not."
"No, for real," she said. "This time I actually have the answer."
Mariah groaned. "Oh, we know. We always know."
Tessa whispered, "God, this is how disasters get born."
Jordyn leaned in, smiling like she was about to commit a crime.
"Elaina," she said.
"Rome Riley."
Silence.
Actual silence.
The kind that drops like a brick and sits there.
The refusal was instant, automatic. "No."
Mariah snorted. "Yeah, okay, comedy hour. Next suggestion."
"I'm serious," Jordyn said.
"Elaina's not dating a war crime in a hoodie," Tessa said.
Jordyn ignored them, eyes locked on Elaina. "Think about it. Every rule you just listed? He hits them."
Elaina stared at her, horrified. "He does not hit them."
Jordyn held up a finger. "Decently good-looking—check."
"Yeah," Mariah said, the agreement simple and final. "…She's not wrong."
"Chill. Like, dangerously chill—check," Jordyn continued. "Rome does not feel stress. Rome doesn't even believe in consequences."
Tessa nodded reluctantly. "Facts."
"Not annoying," Jordyn said. "He says insane stuff, but he's not loud or clingy or… anything."
Mariah added, "And he wouldn't get jealous. At all. Ever. He barely experiences normal human attachment."
Jordyn leaned back, folding her arms, delivering the last blow.
"And you know damn well he'd take it as a joke. And never tell anyone. He'd probably forget it's supposed to be a secret."
Elaina stared at the three of them like they'd collectively lost their grip on reality.
"No," she said again, sharper this time. "I am not fake-dating Rome Riley."
Jordyn smirked. "You will be."
"Oh my god." Elaina pressed her palms to her face. "No I won't."
"Okay," Jordyn said, leaning back like she had all the time in the world. "Then come up with someone better."
Silence.
Elaina opened her mouth. Closed it.
Mariah raised a brow. "Well?"
Elaina groaned. "I hate this. I hate all of this."
Jordyn smiled like a villain.
"Great. Then it's settled."
Elaina dropped her hands from her face, eyes wide and exhausted.
"Okay. Hypothetically. Hypothetically. If I even considered this—which I'm not—how would that even work? Rome doesn't… do things."
Jordyn clapped once. "Perfect. That's exactly why he'd say yes."
Mariah nodded. "Rome's default setting is: 'Sure, why not.' Even when the answer should be jail."
Tessa added, "He literally agreed to help the janitor catch a raccoon once because he was bored."
Elaina frowned. "He… what?"
"Long story," Jordyn said. "Point is: he'll do anything if it entertains him. And a fake relationship? That's premium entertainment."
Mariah leaned back. "He'd probably treat it like a school project he didn't sign up for but finds weirdly amusing."
"And," Tessa said, raising a finger, "he won't make it weird. Like, actually weird. He's good at pretending nothing matters."
Elaina let out a slow breath.
"Yeah, because nothing does matter to him."
"Exactly," Jordyn said. "He won't catch feelings. He won't ask for real dates. He won't get clingy. He doesn't even get clingy to his own belongings."
Mariah nodded. "Pretty sure he lost his backpack for three weeks and didn't care."
"He said it was 'an experiment,'" Tessa muttered.
Elaina shook her head. "He's unpredictable. And loud. And—"
"And he makes people shut up," Jordyn cut in. "Think about it. If you show up 'dating' Rome Riley, every rumor ends instantly. No one is going to question it. They're going to be too busy trying to understand how you pulled it off."
Mariah smirked. "Also, people will stop calling you mean. You can't be mean if Rome Riley chooses you. It's like being blessed by a chaotic deity."
Tessa nodded. "Social immunity."
Elaina groaned again. "You guys are insane."
"Correct," Jordyn said. "Now, for the plan."
Elaina lifted her head, dread and curiosity twisting together. "There's a plan?"
"Obviously." Jordyn rubbed her hands together. "Step one: Find Rome."
Mariah snorted. "Step two: Beg God for strength."
Tessa added, "Step three: Ask him. Or trick him. Or confuse him until he agrees."
Elaina stared at them, horrified.
"Do you seriously think he'd say yes?"
Jordyn didn't hesitate.
"Elaina. He once told a sub he couldn't take a quiz because his 'spirit animal was doing coaine.' He'll say yes."
Mariah crossed her arms. "He'll say yes before he even knows what he's agreeing to."
Tessa nodded. "He'll say yes because he thinks it'll be funny."
Elaina swallowed.
"If I even do this… how do I… ask him?"
Jordyn grinned, wicked and sure.
"Oh, you're not asking him."
The question hit her like a physical correction. "I'm not?"
"Nope," Jordyn said proudly. "We are."
Mariah cracked her knuckles like she'd just been activated for a mission.
Tessa whispered, "This is going to end in flames."
And Jordyn smiled wider.
"Exactly."
They split up across the courtyard like a small, irritated task force.
Jordyn scanned the benches.
Tessa checked near the bike racks.
Mariah pointed toward the vending machines.
"He likes eating stale Pop-Tarts. Check over there."
They walked past the front steps, the bus lane, the clusters of kids pretending they weren't waiting to be picked up.
Nothing.
Elaina tried not to feel relieved.
Because if they didn't find him, they couldn't ask him.
And if they couldn't ask him, she could pretend this whole plan didn't exist.
Jordyn shaded her eyes like she was surveying a battlefield.
"Where does a gremlin like him even hang out?"
"Somewhere unsupervised."
"Somewhere stupid."
They turned the corner near the science wing—
And stopped.
Because there he was.
Rome Riley, standing in the courtyard like it was his stage, debating a confused-looking freshman.
Jordyn groaned. "Found him. Of course he's doing something illegal to the brain."
"We should've checked the 'delusional argument' zone first." Mariah sighed.
Elaina swallowed hard.
This was it.
This was who Jordyn wanted her to fake-date.
And Jordyn, with the confidence of someone about to light a fuse, said.
"Alright. Target acquired."
Rome had the freshman cornered near the side doors, talking with the confidence of a man who had never once been correct on purpose.
"I'm telling you," Rome said, pacing like a lecturer who'd been denied tenure for being unsafe, "Russian women lay eggs. Not like chickens. More like… dragon eggs. Thermal. Durable. You could bowl with them."
The freshman squinted. "People don't… hatch."
Rome snapped his fingers. "WRONG. You ever wonder why Russian parents look so young? Because they're not pregnant for nine months. They incubate. In those giant fur coats. Like walking Yeti broilers."
The freshman squinted, his brain visibly buffering. "Broilers?"
"Yes, Timothy," Rome said— despite the kid's name very much not being Timothy. "Broilers. Why do you think their coats are so puffy? You think it's fashion? No. It's nest insulation."
The freshman's mouth opened slowly, like his brain was booting up Windows 98.
"I don't think that's—"
"Explain the population graph," Rome interrupted, whipping out his phone but not actually opening anything. "Look at this chart. Boom. Spike. Egg season."
The freshman leaned in like it was sacred scripture.
Around the corner, the girls froze.
Jordyn stared. "…Is he presenting propaganda?"
Mariah whispered, "Why is that child believing him? Why is ANYONE believing him?"
Tessa clutched her backpack. "He's too confident. That's the problem. You can't debate someone who believes their own lies."
Elaina watched, numb. Rome was gesturing wildly now.
"And let me ask you this," Rome said, tapping the freshman's forehead with the back of his finger. "Why do Russian grandmas always have those scarves? Because they're protecting their head vents."
The freshman recoiled. "Head vents?"
"Yes. For steam release during hatchings. Come on, Timothy. It's biology."
"My name's—"
But Rome kept going.
"You ever break a Matryoshka doll? That's cultural symbolism, man. Layers. Generations. Egg women. It's right there."
The freshman stared at him, lost. "Are you… are you sure?"
Rome leaned in, dead serious.
"As sure as I am that gravity is a myth made by Big Apple to sell ladders."
The freshman nodded. Slowly. Dangerously.
The girls exchanged looks of pure alarm.
The freshman frowned, brow crumpling like a tin can.
"Wait… what do ladders have to do with gravity?"
Rome's eyes lit up like someone had handed him a microphone and a stage.
"Oh, Timothy. Sweet, fragile Timothy. Everything has to do with ladders."
The freshman leaned closer, like he was about to be initiated into a cult.
Rome spread his hands. "Gravity was invented by Big Apple in 1842. Before that? People just… floated off sometimes. You ever see those old paintings where angels are just kind of hovering? That wasn't symbolism. That was Tuesday."
His eyes glazed over, staring through Rome at the sheer impossibility of it all.. "So… people floated?"
"Yes," Rome said, deadly serious. "And business was suffering. Apple orchards couldn't keep workers on the ground. Farmers would sneeze wrong and drift into the stratosphere like sad balloons. People were getting stuck in church rafters. Chaos."
The freshman swallowed. "Okay… then what do ladders—"
"LADDERS," Rome thundered, "were created so people could climb back down from accidental levitation incidents. But then—then—they realized if they made up gravity, they could sell ladders for regular things."
The freshman whispered, "Like… roofs?"
"No," Rome said. "Like lies."
He was pacing now, hands flying everywhere.
"And you ever wonder why every school has a ladder but nobody knows where they keep them? That's Big Apple controlling supply. Ladders are currency. The whole economy is one apple sneeze away from collapse."
The freshman's eyes were huge. "Oh my god."
"And another thing," Rome went on, unstoppable. "Why do you think the moon landing footage shows the astronauts bouncing? Because that's what REAL physics looks like, Timothy. Gravity on Earth? Fake. The moon? Free-range movement. Organic motion."
The freshman nodded slowly, as if the Earth's last functioning brain cell had given up resisting.
Rome pointed at him. "Do you ever see a ladder in Russia?"
The freshman startled. "Uh—I don't— I don't think so?"
"Exactly," Rome said. "Because their egg women keep the population stable. No gravity scams necessary."
The freshman gasped like a soap-opera twist had hit him.
Jordyn finally couldn't take it anymore.
She stepped out from behind the wall and called, "ROME!"
Rome froze mid-rant, one hand in the air like he was conducting an invisible orchestra. He turned his head slow, like someone had interrupted him during a TED Talk.
He sighed. Loudly. Dramatically. Tragically.
"Duty calls," he muttered.
The world tilted a little behind the freshman's eyes.. "Wait—so… the ladders… the eggs… the moon—"
Rome put a hand on the kid's shoulder with priest-level seriousness.
"Listen to me, Timothy. If you remember nothing else, remember this. If a cloud ever looks at you funny? Run."
The freshman's soul left his body.
Rome nodded once, as if knighting him. "Stay vigilant."
Then he turned and walked toward the girls.
Behind him, the freshman whispered, terrified.
"What… what does a funny cloud look like?"
Rome strolled up to them like he hadn't just rewritten global physics for an impressionable freshman.
Elaina stared at him. Hard.
"What," she said, "were you doing?"
Rome looked genuinely confused. "Teaching."
"Teaching what?" Elaina demanded. "That Russian women lay eggs? That gravity is a corporate scam? That clouds can… look at you funny?"
His expression was pure, unbothered matter-of-fact. "Basic survival."
"Rome," she said, pointing past him at the poor freshman still staring into the void, "that kid is not all the way there. You can't just—fill his head with whatever comes out of your mouth."
A lazy, dismissive wave of his hand finished the thought.. "Why not? It fits."
"Fits what?"
"The empty space," he said.
Tessa pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh my god."
Elaina shook her head at him, half horrified, half exhausted. "You can't do that to people."
Rome looked at her, genuinely puzzled. "Why not? He was having a slow day. I sped it up."
Jordyn muttered, "You broke his brain."
Rome said it like a weather forecast. "He'll grow a new one."
Elaina stared at him like he was an unsupervised toaster in a bathtub. "You can't just… make things up and expect people to believe you."
Rome grinned. "Why not? You looked convinced enough to join my ladder resistance."
Jordyn stepped between them like a referee who'd seen enough chaos for one lifetime.
"Okay, Ladder Jesus," she said, clapping once. "Focus. We're here for an actual reason."
Rome confused, like he genuinely had no idea she wasn't approaching him for a TED Talk on wingless levitation.
Jordyn pointed at Elaina. "She has a problem."
Rome looked at Elaina, then at Jordyn, then back at Elaina.
Slow grin. "Is it gravity-related?"
"No," Elaina said flatly.
"Tragic."
Jordyn rolled her eyes. "Rome. Shut up for ten seconds. We need to ask you something."
Rome stuffed his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels like he was about to hear the funniest thing he'd hear all day.
"Shoot," he said. "If this is about the vending machine incident, I'm legally innocent."
Jordyn took a breath—the kind you take right before lighting a match near gasoline.
"So," she said, slow and deliberate, "Elaina needs a fake boyfriend."
Rome's smile twitched.
Jordyn kept going. "Just for a few weeks. To shut people up. To make the Mason thing die. Simple. Controlled. Very temporary."
Rome's smile widened.
Elaina wanted the ground to swallow her. "You don't have to—she shouldn't have even asked—"
But Jordyn wasn't done.
"It would be low maintenance," she said. "No drama. No real feelings. No clinginess. We just need someone who won't catch emotions, won't get weird, and won't tell anyone. Ever."
Rome's grin stretched slow and feral, like someone had handed him the plot twist of his dreams.
"You want me," he said, "to fake date her."
Jordyn crossed her arms. "Yes."
Rome stared for half a second.
Then he broke.
Full-bodied laughter detonated out of him—loud, sudden, bending at the waist, one hand braced on his knee, the other over his heart like he'd been personally blessed by the comedy gods.
"Oh my—" he wheezed. "Hold—hang on—"
A couple kids across the courtyard glanced over.
He waved at them mid laugh..
Elaina wanted to evaporate.
"Rome," Jordyn said flatly, "are you done?"
He tried to stop.
Failed.
He laughed harder.
Finally Rome dragged in a breath, shoulders still shaking.
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
"Oh, that's good," he said, voice rough from laughing. "That's… that's the funniest thing anyone's asked me in my entire academic career."
Jordyn didn't blink. "It wasn't a joke."
Rome grinned, recovering. "I know. That's what makes it even funnier."
He looked at Elaina, eyes bright with trouble.
Rome tilted his head at Elaina, grin lazy and predatory.
Then he sighed—dramatic, tragic, award-winning.
"Listen," he said, "I'd love to help. Truly. But my mom doesn't let me fake date strangers."
Elaina took a half-step back. "What?"
He nodded seriously, like this was a real restriction on his life.
"Yeah. House rule. Right next to 'no shoes on the carpet' and 'stop putting forks in outlets.'"
Mariah choked on air.
Tessa whispered, "Why would he—why would anyone put a fork—"
Jordyn pinched the bridge of her nose. "Rome. Focus."
He held up his hands in mock defense. "I'm just saying. Strict household. My mom's got rules."
Elaina found herself saying, before her brain approved it, "We're not strangers."
Rome's eyebrows shot up, delighted. "Oh? Name three facts about me."
"You're—" she started, then stalled.
He waited.
Grinning.
Jordyn groaned. "This is not the point."
Rome leaned in a little, just enough to make Elaina's breath catch in annoyance—or something like it.
"So," Jordyn said, "if we're not strangers… that means your mom would approve?"
Elaina stared at him, annoyed and flustered and already regretting her entire life.
Rome didn't respond.
Jordyn threw up her hands. "Rome. Are you gonna help or not?"
Rome's smile curled slow.
Rome's smile curled slow, like he'd finally come to a decision that entertained him.
"Yeah," he said casually, like the word cost him nothing. "I'll do it."
"Wait—seriously?" The words were flat with disbelief.
"Sure," Rome said with a shrug. "Why not? Sounds funny. And I like funny."
Jordyn threw her hands up. "Finally."
"But," Rome added, holding up a finger, "there's a catch."
Of course there was.
The word catch landed like the final, inevitable piece of a puzzle she hadn't meant to start. She knew him just enough to know it wouldn't be small.
"What catch?"
Rome pointed at himself. "I need a girlfriend to introduce to my parents."
The group went dead silent.
"What?" Tessa said.
Rome nodded like this was obvious. "Yeah. They've been on my case for months. Apparently hitting sixteen means I'm supposed to be 'maturing' and 'getting serious' and 'not living like a raccoon in human clothing.' Their words, not mine."
Mariah's eyes widened as the pieces clicked into a horrifying place.. "So your solution is… this?"
"Exactly," Rome said. "Two birds, one fake relationship."
Jordyn stared at him. "Rome, how long are we talking here?"
He thought for half a second.
Then:
"Six months."
Elaina nearly choked. "Six— SIX?!"
"I come with seasonal requirements," he said, as if stating a warranty. "Minimum. Holidays are coming up. If I show up single again, my aunt's gonna stage an intervention. And last year she brought visual aids."
Tessa whispered, horrified, "What kind of visual aids?"
"A PowerPoint," Rome said. "With graphs. About my 'romantic deficiencies.' It was traumatic."
Elaina pressed a hand to her forehead. "Rome, that's not what we meant. We were thinking… like a few weeks. Maybe a month."
"Yeah," he said, "but I'm thinking six months."
"You can't be serious," Mariah said.
Rome grinned. "I'm always serious when it inconveniences other people."
He looked at Elaina again.
"So," he said lightly, "still want me?"
The girls stared at her.
The world felt too loud.
Six months.
Six months of Rome Riley.
God help her.
Elaina felt the world narrow to a single, ringing point.
Six months.
Six.
Months.
Her first instinct was absolutely not—because Rome Riley for six minutes was already a hazard. Six hours would require medical supervision. Six months might actually shorten her lifespan.
But then her brain—annoyingly logical, traitorous, always a few steps ahead—started turning.
Six months meant…
People would stop talking.
The Mason rumor would die, not just fade
.Everyone would move on.
Teachers. Students. Her parents.
All of it.
A real stretch of time made it believable.
A few weeks would look suspicious.
A month would look strategic.
But six months?
That was a relationship in high-school time.
People would accept it.
No questions.
No whispers.
No "Are you sure she didn't—?"
Her
Rome wasn't predictable, but he was consistent in one way: he didn't care. He wouldn't get attached. He wouldn't read into anything. He wouldn't expect… anything from her.
And he wouldn't tell.
He'd already said yes.
Freely.
Easily.
Laughing.
Because he found the entire thing fun.
Stupidly, infuriatingly fun.
Her brain kept tallying.
Protects her reputation.
Stops the rumor.
Looks real predictable ending point.
Rome wouldn't make it weird emotionally.
Rome was, unfortunately, very convincing in a spotlight.
And then the darker thought—the one she didn't say out loud:
If she turned him down after all this dramatics… people would keep talking.
And worse: Mason would win.
Her jaw tightened.
Jordyn watched her. Mariah and Tessa held their breath.
Rome just looked amused, like he'd thrown a grenade and was waiting to see if she'd catch it or juggle it.
Six months.
It was insane.
It was too much.
It was reckless.
It was also—dammit—the smartest option on the table.
Elaina exhaled, slow, steady, controlled.
She looked at Rome.
He raised his eyebrows, all bright-eyed mischief, like he already knew her answer.
And maybe he did.
Because she was already leaning toward yes.
Elaina felt the decision settle in her chest before she even opened her mouth.
A tight, quiet click—like a lock turning.
She hated that it made sense.
She hated that he knew it made sense.
She hated that she was about to say it out loud and make it real.
But she hated the rumor more.
She lifted her chin.
"Fine," she said.
Rome's smile sharpened like he'd been waiting for the punchline.
"Six months," Elaina added, steady and certain. "And that's the limit. Not a day longer."
Rome didn't celebrate.
Didn't laugh.
Didn't crack another joke.
He just looked at her—eyes bright, mouth curved, like someone had handed him his favorite kind of chaos.
"Deal," he said.
Simple.
Effortless.
Like she'd just agreed to lend him a pencil, not her sanity.
He stuck out his hand, because of course he would.
Elaina hesitated.
Touch made it real.
But backing out now would look weak, and she refused to give him that.
So she put her hand in his.
His grip was warm, careless, easy.
"Congratulations," Rome said. "You just made the funniest decision of your life."
Elaina squeezed his hand once—hard enough to make a point, soft enough not to show nerves—and let go.
"This isn't supposed to be funny," she said.
Rome grinned. "Oh, Elaina. It's already hilarious."
And just like that, the deal was done.
Rome didn't waste a second.
The handshake had barely ended before he was already pulling his phone from his back pocket—fast, smooth, like he'd been waiting to do it since the conversation started.
"Alright," he said, screen lighting up. "If we're doing this, I need your number."
Her hand, halfway to her phone, froze. "My wh—"
"And your Snapchat," he added, thumbs already hovering. "Obviously."
"Obviously?" she echoed.
He nodded like it was the laws of physics. "Believability, Hayes. You can't date someone for six months and not have streaks. That's how the government knows you're lying."
Mariah snorted. "The government?"
Rome gestured at her with his phone. "They watch everything. Especially streaks."
Tessa's mouth twitched like she couldn't decide if she should laugh or worry.
He held the phone out toward Elaina, eyebrows up.
Waiting.
Against her instinct she typed in her number, then her Snapchat.
She handed the phone back.
Rome immediately sent her a snap—some blurry upward angle with the caption this is historical—before saving her contact under Elaina 🍏 for no discernible reason.
Then he turned to Mariah.
"Yours too."
Mariah leaned back, eyeing him with deep suspicion. . "Mine? Why me?"
"Because," Rome said, casual, "couples have group chats with their friends. And if I only have Elaina's, it looks suspicious. Like she's hiding me. Like I'm a secret… attic boyfriend."
Tessa sputtered. "Attic? What—why—"
"Doesn't matter," Rome said, handing over the phone. "Give me your number before someone calls CPS."
Mariah entered hers, still confused.
Then he turned to Tessa—already holding the phone out like she didn't have a choice.
She sighed, muttering, "I can't believe this is happening," and typed it in.
Rome tucked the phone back into his pocket with a satisfied little nod.
"There," he said. "Much more believable. Very couple-coded. Extremely domestic."
Elaina stared at him. "You're enjoying this way too much."
Rome met her eyes, grin tilted, pure trouble.
"Oh, definitely. But good news—now you can't back out."
Her pulse jumped.
Jordyn clapped once, decisive. "Great. Perfect. We'll get the details down later. Rules, timing, boundaries—"
Rome waved a hand. "Boundaries are fake. I respect vibes."
Elaina closed her eyes. "Oh my god."
"Relax," Rome said, stepping back like he'd just wrapped up a business meeting. "Six months. Easy. I won't tell a soul. I won't get weird. And I won't fall in love with you."
Mariah coughed into her sleeve.
Jordyn just muttered, "Fantastic. He's starting already."
"Alright," he said, flicking a hand at them, "clear out. I need a minute alone with my girlfriend."
Mariah froze.
Tessa blinked.
Jordyn stared at him like she was doing math that hurt.
Elaina's lungs forgot how to work. "We—what—Rome—"
He shot her a grin, all ease and trouble. "Relax. Practicing."
Jordyn exhaled, already grabbing Mariah and Tessa by their sleeves.
"Come on," she said. "Before he gets worse."
They shuffled off, still staring.
Rome turned back to Elaina, grin settling into something softer.
"Alright," he said. "Business time."
Rome didn't wait for her reply.
He just turned and walked a few steps across the courtyard, landing at an empty table like he owned the square foot of earth it sat on.
He didn't sit on the bench.
Of course not.
He hopped up onto the tabletop instead, long legs dangling off the edge, posture loose, easy, like this was all normal and not the social equivalent of dropping a lit match on gasoline.
Then he looked at her.
Not impatient.
Not smug.
Just watching—like he was waiting to see if she'd actually follow.
Elaina stood there for a beat, heartbeat tapping too fast, then made herself walk over.
She stopped in front of him, arms crossed before she realized she'd done it.
Rome tilted his head, studying her like she was the next plot twist he planned to mishandle for fun.
"Alright," he said, tone shifting—still light, still Rome, but a notch more focused. "If we're doing this for real, I need to know what you're uncomfortable with. Boundaries, preferences, anything that's a no."
She hadn't expected him to start there.
She stared at him. "Didn't you say you only believe in 'vibes'?"
Rome snapped his fingers. "Exactly. And vibes are just boundaries with better marketing."
Elaina snorted before she could stop herself.
He grinned. "Look, some people have rulebooks. I have vibes. You say 'don't do X,' I go, 'cool, X is cursed now,' and we move on."
She shook her head at him, but the corner of her mouth tugged up.
Rome kicked his heel lightly against the table edge.
"Seriously, though," he said, tone smoothing out again. "Tell me everything you don't want. Physical stuff, social stuff, what's off-limits. What's fine. What's fake-only. What's 'absolutely no way, I'll bury you alive if you try it.'"
He held up a hand like he was testifying.
He held up a hand like he was testifying, mouth tilted in that lopsided almost-smirk—then something in his expression shifted. Not serious, not heavy, just… clearer.
"And also," he said, "whatever you've heard about me? Ninety percent lies. Or half-true. Or true but in a way that sounds worse when other people say it."
Elaina frowned. "What does that even mean?"
Rome plucked a loose thread from the cuff of his hoodie, his attention suddenly absorbed by it.
"People see me messing around and assume I'm… I don't know. Fer feral. Unhinged. Allergic to responsibility. A menace to society."
"…Are you?"
"Obviously," he said. "But not the brand they think."
She gave him a flat look.
Rome nudged a pebble with his shoe. "People talk about me because I'm loud, and weird, and I don't care enough to correct anything. It's easier to let them believe I'm the guy who once microwaved a fork on purpose."
"Did you?" she asked before she could stop herself.
He pointed at her. "See? That's the problem right there. My reputation works faster than I do."
She tried not to smile.
Rome's voice gentled—not soft, just honest in the wrong moment like he always seemed to be.
"But with you? If we're doing this, I don't want you going in thinking I'm actually everything people say. You're already dealing with enough rumor-garbage. You don't need mine piled on."
The ground beneath the conversation shifted, caught off guard by the sudden sincerity wrapped in nonsense.
He added, lighter again, "So between us, you get the real me. Whatever that is."
Elaina frowned. "When you said I'm already dealing with 'rumor-garbage'… what did you mean by that? What exactly did you hear?"
Rome looked at her for a beat, like he was checking if she really wanted the answer.
"You sure?" he asked.
"Yes."
He exhaled through his nose. "Alright. The… Mason thing. Obviously."
Her stomach tightened. "What about it?"
Rome scratched his jaw. "People are saying you rejected him because you think he's not good enough. Or that you're… picky. Cold. That you shot him down in some dramatic way."
He made a face. "Which, for the record, is stupid. No one owes Mason anything."
Elaina's jaw clenched. "That's not what happened."
"I know," Rome said, simple and certain.
Her eyes searched his face for the lie. "You do?"
"Yeah." The word was light, effortless. "I can tell when something's real and when it's cafeteria-mythology. This?" He shook his head. "It's mythology."
Elaina looked down at her hands. "I didn't embarrass him. I didn't make a scene. I just said no."
"And somehow that turned into a personality flaw," Rome said. "Classic."
"It's not fair."
"Nope."
He leaned back, giving her space but not distance. "And that's why we're here. Not so you can pretend you did something wrong — so you can shut up the people who think they get to rewrite your choices."
Her throat tightened. "It just… sucks."
Rome nodded once, not mocking for once. "Yeah. But we'll redirect it."
"We?"
"I'm your fake boyfriend," he said. "Kinda comes with the subscription."
Rome let that settle for a moment, then tapped the table lightly with two fingers.
"Alright," he said. "Back to the original program before we spiraled into Mason Mythology Hour."
Elaina huffed a tiny laugh.
He leaned forward a little, elbows on his knees, tone casual but—annoyingly—attentive.
"Boundaries," he said. "Preferences. Stuff you're not okay with. Stuff you are okay with. We should get that straight before we start… whatever this is."
Elaina picked at a frayed thread on her sleeve, thinking.
Really thinking.
"Okay," she said slowly. "Um… first thing? No big PDA. I'm not—" she gestured vaguely at the world, "—a hallway-makeout person."
Rome nodded like he'd expected that. "Cool. I don't even make out with myself in hallways. Too many witnesses."
She ignored him.
"And no… grabbing. Or surprise touching. Or, like, pulling me into things without warning."
"Consent. Got it," Rome said. "Shocking concept for most guys, apparently."
She kept going, a little braver now.
"And I don't want you saying stuff that makes it sound like we're… actually together. Like—like 'love of my life' jokes or calling me babe or anything."
Rome winced. "Thank god. I physically can't say 'babe' unless I'm mocking someone."
Elaina's lips twitched.
She smoothed them flat.
"And I don't want this getting messy," she said. "No weird jealousy bits. No pretending we're fighting. No breakup stunts. Just… quiet. Controlled. Simple."
Rome raised an eyebrow. "You really think I'm capable of something simple?"
Elaina shot him a look.
"Are you going to be?"
He held her gaze for a beat.
"…I'll try," he said.
She swallowed.
"Okay. Um… things I am okay with?"
She had to think a second.
"This sounds dumb, but—walking together. Sitting together. Talking. Being seen near each other. Stuff that looks natural."
Rome nodded along. "Chill proximity."
"Yes. Exactly."
Her voice dropped. "And no… rumors. Please don't add to them. Even as a joke."
His expression sobered for a flash.
"I won't," he said. "Promise."
She believed him.
Annoyingly.
Rome tapped the table again. "Anything else?"
Elaina hesitated, then.
"…I don't want you making fun of me for getting nervous. Or overthinking. Or… caring too much. I know I do it. I don't need commentary."
Rome tilted his head, studying her in that way that felt too direct for someone who never took anything seriously.
"I won't trash you for being a person," he said. "Fair rule."
Rome tapped the table again, like he was waiting for something else.
Elaina exhaled. "Okay… um. Yeah. There's more."
Rome grinned. "I knew it."
She glared half-heartedly. "Don't start."
He held up both hands, innocent. "Proceed."
Elaina twisted the thread on her sleeve again. "I don't like loud bragging. Or showing off. Or trying to make scenes on purpose."
Rome's mouth quirked into a dry, self-aware smirk. "Wow. You're really aiming high picking me."
"Shut up," she muttered. Then, "I'm serious. No big theatrics for attention."
Rome tapped his chest. "I can contain the chaos. I'll keep it… portable."
She ignored the joke and continued.
"And please don't do that thing where guys talk to other girls extra loudly just to make a point. I hate that. It's manipulative."
Rome snorted. "Bold of you to assume anyone wants to flirt with me on purpose."
"Rome," she said to him under her breath, "focus."
"Right. Sorry." He motioned for her to go on.
"And I don't like messy communication," she said. "If something's weird or confusing, just—say it. Don't do the whole mysterious, unreadable thing. It stresses me out."
A beat of profound, theatrical silence passed. "Communication. From me."
He looked like she'd asked him to file taxes.
"You can handle it," she said.
He nodded, mock-defeated. "I will suffer for the cause."
She hesitated, then added quietly, "I don't like being embarrassed on purpose. Not in front of people. Not as a joke. Not even lightly."
That made Rome straighten a little.
"Yeah," he said. "No public humiliation kink. Got it." He paused. "Actually—zero humiliation at all. Promise."
Her shoulders eased the tiniest bit.
"And one more," she said.
Rome leaned in, expecting something big.
"I can't deal with slow texters," she said. "If it takes you six hours to reply, I'm assuming you died or you're ignoring me. Just—respond. Even if it's a thumbs-up."
He said it with absolute, stone-faced seriousness. "…You want me to thumb you?"
Elaina groaned. "Forget it."
He raised a hand, laughing under his breath. "No, no, I get it. Quick replies. Minimal lag. I can do that. Probably. Mostly. Don't expect grammar."
"That's fine," she said. "I'd be concerned if you used punctuation."
He pointed at her. "Exactly. Now you're learning the Rome Riley system."
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth curved.
"And…" she said, quieter, "don't lie to me. Even if it's something small. Even if it's something stupid. I don't care if you're trying to save my feelings—just don't lie."
Rome went still for the first time.
"No lies," he said. "Okay. Yeah. I can do that."
Elaina nodded once.
"And that's everything. I think."
Rome stretched his legs out, looking unfairly pleased. "Good. Great. Perfect. Now I know all your icks, triggers, fears, and 'do not touch me in the hallway' codes."
"That is not what I said."
"That is exactly what you said."
She shoved him lightly with two fingers.
Rome grinned wider.
"Alright," he said. "Your turn again. What are my icks?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Do you have any?"