The entrance to St. Jude's Academy looked like a red carpet event, but with more judgement and better skin.
Aria stood inside the tinted windows of the Vane family's armoured SUV, her fingers digging into the leather seat. Outside, the "Gossip Mill", a group of juniors who spent more time on Sidebars & Scions than on their actual coursework, was already buzzing.
"Ready to sell the lie, Sterling?" Julian asked. He looked disgustingly composed, adjusting his St. Jude's tie in the rearview mirror.
"I was born ready, Vane. I just didn't realise the lie would involve wearing an engagement ring the size of a postage stamp." She held up her hand. The diamond was a five-carat oval that felt like a literal weight on her soul.
"My father picked it. He said it represents 'Stability'. I told him it looks like 'Alimony', but he didn't laugh." Julian stepped out of the car first, rounding the side to open her door.
This was Rule #3: The Performance. As Aria took his hand, a collective gasp rippled through the courtyard. The cameras, mostly iPhones disguised as casual browsing, snapped into action.
"Smile, Aria," Julian whispered through a fixed, charming grin. "You look like you're walking toward a guillotine."
"I am," she hissed back, her smile radiant and utterly fake. "And you're the one holding the basket."
They walked up the marble steps, their strides perfectly synchronised. It was the "St. Jude's Shuffle", a walk that screamed I own the building and the land it sits on."
The Encounter
They were stopped at the lockers by Chloe Davenport, Aria's "best friend" (which was society-speak for 'the person most likely to stab her in the back for a Vogue cover').
"Aria! Julian!" Chloe squealed, her eyes darting to the ring. "The news broke this morning. We all thought it was a prank. I mean, last week you two were literally debating the ethics of each other's existence in Philosophy 101."
"We realised that our passion for debate was... just passion," Julian said, sliding a possessive arm around Aria's waist.
Aria felt a jolt of electricity, not the romantic kind, more like the kind you get from a faulty toaster. She leaned into him, her head resting briefly on his shoulder. "It turns out, Chloe, that when you find someone who challenges you as much as Julian does, you don't want to let them go."
I'm going to vomit, Aria thought.
"So romantic," Chloe cooed, though her eyes were calculating the social shift. "Does this mean the academic rivalry is over? Is Julian letting you have the Valedictorian spot as a wedding gift?"
The atmosphere instantly turned sub-zero.
Julian's arm tightened. Aria's smile sharpened into a blade.
"Letting me?" Aria laughed, a tinkling, melodic sound that held the threat of a hurricane. "Chloe, darling. Marriage is a union of families. The GPA is a matter of personal honour. If Julian thinks a ring buys him my spot at the top of the podium, he's even more delusional than his last essay on Milton."
Julian looked down at her, his dark eyes sparkling with a dangerous, playful heat. "She's right. I wouldn't want to marry a woman I didn't have to work to beat. It keeps the 'passion' alive, doesn't it, sweetheart?"
He leaned down and kissed her cheek, lingering just a second too long for it to be part of the script.
The Breakout
As they finally turned the corner into the empty hallway leading to Advanced Calculus, Aria shoved his arm off her.
"Don't. Touch. The. Waist," she breathed, checking her hair in a locker mirror.
"It was for the 'Davenport Factor', Aria. She was suspicious," Julian said, leaning against the wall, his cool exterior returning. "Besides, you're the one who brought up the 'Milton' essay. That hurt. The professor gave me an A+."
"Only because your father donated the new wing of the library, Vane."
"Actually," Julian stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. "It was an A+ because I'm better at Milton than you. Just like I'm better at this 'fake marriage' thing. You're overacting. You look like a soap opera villain."
Aria poked him in the chest. "And you look like a Ken doll with a God complex. Now, move. We have a test in five minutes, and if you breathe near my scantron, I'm calling a lawyer."
Julian watched her walk away, his eyes trailing the sharp line of her blazer. He didn't tell her that for a split second, when she had leaned her head on his shoulder, he had forgotten he was supposed to be acting.
He shook the thought away. It was the perfume, he told himself. It's chemically designed to be intoxicating.