Chapter 7 #2
“Oh my gosh, do you ever stop talking?” I snapped. Tino’s eyes widened in surprise and a flash of guilt swept through me which I pushed away the best I could. I didn’t want to be mean to him, but he was standing between me and the exit from my worst day of school ever, so it was collateral damage.
Tino sighed and grabbed my wrist, yanking me down the hallway. “Come on.”
“Excuse me?” I asked. I tried to pull my arm out of his grip, but it was impossible.
He tugged me to a custodian’s closet, glancing around quickly before opening the door and shoving me inside, then following behind me quickly.
The place was tiny and barely had room for us to fit, especially once I accidentally knocked over a couple of mops. “Are you insane?”
“Probably,” he said, closing the door behind us. “But at least in here, no one’s staring at you.”
I groaned and rubbed my hands over my face. “This is ridiculous. And you! You’re unbelievable.”
He smiled faintly. “You keep saying that, but I think you mean it in a good way.”
“Trust me, I don’t.”
He studied me for a second, and the joking tone softened. “You really hate this, huh?”
“Gee, what gave it away? The way I keep saying I hate it?”
He ignored the sarcasm. “It’s just a rumor, Lilah. People will get over it.”
“No, they won’t. Not when there’s a photo. Not when our brothers are famous. It’s like—like gasoline on a fire. Everyone thinks we’re the side story in their celebrity gossip feed.”
He was quiet for a beat. “Okay, yeah. That’s fair.”
I sank down onto an overturned crate, exhaling hard. “This is exactly why I don’t date. People already treat me like I’m some extension of my brother’s brand. The last thing I need is to be half of a hashtag couple.”
Tino crouched across from me, elbows resting on his knees. “So what are you gonna do? Keep denying it until everyone gets bored?”
“That’s the plan.”
He nodded slowly. “How’s that working out so far?”
I gave him a withering look. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Not enjoying,” he said carefully. “But I’m trying to help.”
“You’re the reason I need help.”
He smiled slightly. “Then let me make it up to you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I have an idea.”
“Again: I don’t like the sound of that.”
He hesitated, which was rare for Tino. Usually, he just said whatever popped into his head. “What if,” he started, “we just… go along with it?”
I blinked. “Go along with it? As in… pretend to date?”
He nodded. “For a little while. Everyone already thinks it’s true. If we act like we’re together, it’ll stop being gossip. It’ll just be old news.”
I laughed. “You think pretending to date you will make people lose interest?”
“It’ll be less interesting than you denying it every five minutes.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the worst part was—he wasn’t entirely wrong.
Every time I told someone it wasn’t true today, it was only met with nudges and winks and “don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody.
” They all found it fun, like they were in on the secret.
Would it be nearly as exciting if it was all just confirmed as the truth instead?
“Think about it,” he said, warming up to his own insanity. “We fake date for a few weeks, let the rumour burn out, then we ‘break up.’ You get your peace and quiet back. I get…” He paused, smiling. “Quality time with my favorite girl.”
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I muttered.
I smoothed down my plaid skirt just for something to do, but my mind was racing with the possibilities.
Tino, of course, had a bias here. He’d been wanting to date me for years and now the opportunity was falling directly into his lap, even if it likely wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined it happening—what with the whole faking it part.
But like he said, it meant he would get to spend a lot more time with me.
Not to mention all the other parts of a relationship that I didn’t even want to think about right now.
But maybe it would be easier.
He leaned closer. “I’m just saying, it could work.”
“This is ridiculous,” I muttered.
“Maybe. But so is everything else about the past few days.”
I stared at the scuffed tile of the floor and listened to the hum of the school heating system, letting it fill the silence between us. Tino had clearly said his piece and was now waiting for me to come to my decision.
Yes or no, Lilah?
“I can’t believe I’m even considering this,” I said finally.
Tino grinned. “So you are considering it.”
“I didn’t say yes.”
“You also didn’t say no.”
I sighed. “You’re infuriating.”
“And yet, here we are.”
I gave him a look. “You realize how bad this could go, right? What if people actually believe it?”
“Well that’s kind of the point.”
“I’m serious,” I said because he clearly wasn’t thinking through potential consequences. “This could get messy. What if it breaks up the friend group?”
“I wasn’t thinking we’d lie to them. I doubt any of them would believe the timing even if we did. They’ll just be in on it.”
“The more people who know a secret, the more likely it is to get out.”
He cocked his head. “What exactly do you think would happen if anyone found out? If anything, we’re just going along with the joke. I don’t think it can be worse than it is now.”
Good point.
I leaned back against the shelf, letting my head thud lightly against the metal. “You really think fake dating is the best solution?”
He shrugged. “I think it’s the easiest one. Minimal drama.”
I snorted. “This is literally the opposite of minimal drama.”
“Okay, yeah, fair.” He laughed. “But it’ll give you control back. Right now, the rumour’s controlling you and this way, you get to decide the story.”
I blinked at him. That… actually made sense. “I hate that you might be right.”
“Say that again?” he said, putting a hand around his ear like he wanted to hear me better.
“Don’t push it.” I studied him, imagining how this might go. What it would be like to pretend to be his girlfriend, even if it would only be for a couple of weeks. “This might be good for us, you know.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. You’ll get to see how incompatible we are. Which might finally cure you from needing to ask me out every other day.”
One side of his mouth tugged up in a smile. “Bold of you to think there’s a cure.”
“You’ll see.”
“You’re really that convinced we wouldn’t work?”
“Completely.”
He smiled faintly. “Then let’s test the theory.”
He went to stand, but I pulled him back down. He looked at me with a confused frown.
“Before we can do this,” I said, gesturing between us, “we need rules.”
“Rules?”
“Yes, rules. I’m not letting this turn into whatever chaotic plan you have in your head.”
His grin told me all I needed to know about his plans.
“Okay,” he said amenably. He sat down on a crate as well, instead of going back to crouching. “Rule one?”
“No actual feelings.”
He grinned. “Obviously.”
“Rule two: no ridiculous romantic gestures.” I could only imagine what he would do if I let him have free rein. I had visions in my head of him standing on cafeteria tables and declaring his undying love for me.
“Define ridiculous.”
“Anything involving singing, public declarations, holding hands unnecessarily, or kissing for more than three seconds.”
He smirked. “So… kissing for two seconds is okay?”
I sighed. “As much as I hate it—”
“Gee, help a guy’s ego, won’t you?”
“—people will expect a real couple to kiss,” I said, ignoring him. “And if I really want everyone to quit harassing us and get over this, then we can’t give them any reason to doubt our relationship. The last thing I want is conspiracy videos about why we never touch.”
The whole social media side of this was the part that was giving me the most pause.
Giving in and acting like a couple wasn’t going to stop people from posting edits of us—if anything, it might make it even worse.
But I guess I would take that over the speculation of whether we were dating in secret, which only invited people spying on us.
“Rule three,” I continued, “no flirting when people aren’t around.”
“That one might be difficult.”
I just stared at him until he held his hands up in a surrender. “Fine, fine. No flirting in private.” He looked weirdly pleased. “Admit it. It’s a good plan.”
“It’s a plan,” I corrected. “The ‘good’ part is yet to be determined.”
He shrugged. “I’ll take that.”
I stood up, brushing dust off my uniform. “If we do this—again, hypothetically—it’s only until the rumours die down. After that, we end it.”
He grinned. “Got it. I’ll practice looking heartbroken.”
“I’m sure it’ll be very convincing,” I said dryly.
He pushed open the door, and light spilled in. “So… we have a deal?”
I hesitated for a moment. Every rational part of my brain screamed no. But another part—the one that was already exhausted by the questions after only a few days—whispered that maybe, just maybe, this could work.
“We have a deal,” I agreed. Then, despite feeling like I was walking into a trap, I slipped my hand into his and walked outside with him.