Chapter Thirty-One
My Instagram app just crashed, and it’s easy to know why.
Ever since Zarmenus posted that picture of us, I’ve been gaining followers at an absurd rate.
When I got to ten thousand followers and my inbox overflowed with messages, I decided to put my account on private, but it didn’t stop either the follow requests or the messages from flooding in at an alarming rate.
I’m sitting in the discussion section for Introduction to Computer Science. I’m near the back of the classroom, and I’ve still caught a few people staring, but nobody has been brave or impolite enough to talk to me. I check my phone, and my inbox instantly fills to ninety-nine-plus.
Most of them are positive, but a scarily large number are from members of the Golden Sun. Most of them call me “demon lover” or include a huge rant about how me being in a relationship with him is dooming humanity for the rest of existence.
I turn off my phone and slide it into my bag. All that can wait until after class.
As I leave the classroom, I turn my phone back on. I have so many new notifications it takes the app a moment to load them all. I also have a missed call and text from Ashley, as well as a text from Dean Leeke.
I open the one from Ashley first.
So you’re public now! How does that feel?
It’s moved so fast that I don’t think I’ve given myself time to truly think.
All this attention is certainly abnormal for me, but in the back of my mind I know Zarmenus is right.
This will die down eventually. Knowing that, people treating me like I’m a huge deal is kind of enjoyable.
I could never tell that to Ashley, though, she’d probably fly all the way over here to give me a stern talking-to about the dangers of external validation.
Weird, but okay!
“Hey, look!” calls a guy that was in my class. “It’s the demon lover.”
I raise a hand and wave. The group walks away, and I open the one from Leeke.
Hi Owen, could you please drop by my office when you get the chance?
I’ve decided to rip off the Band-Aid and head straight to Leeke’s office.
Even though it’s only been a short while since I got the message, I’ve run hundreds of different scenarios through my mind, trying to figure out exactly why she would want to see me.
I know she approves of us dating. Or does she?
I’m going on the word of the ghoul that haunts our bathroom.
How trustworthy is it, really? It doesn’t even have a face.
I wipe my palms on my pants, then knock on her door. When she opens it, her smile is big.
“Owen,” she says, with an amount of warmth I’ve never gotten from her. “Come in.”
I go inside, and sit at the chair I sat in last time I had a meeting with her.
“Thank you for dropping by. How have your classes been today?”
“Really good,” I say.
I know this is preamble before she goes for the jugular. There’s no way she would’ve asked me to come here to ask how my classes have been going.
“I saw the post Zarmenus made last night. I wanted to know if there’s anything you’d like to tell me.”
“Oh, right. Um, yeah, we’re sort of dating.”
Her expression doesn’t change.
I shift in my seat. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” she says. “It’s unexpected, that’s all. It actually works well. Not only did you enjoy living with him, but you fell in love. It’s very sweet.”
I might be imagining it, but I think I’m picking up on a slight knowing tone in her voice. As if she knows that we’re pretending but is running with it. Still, I’m not going to give us away based on that assumption. If she thinks I’m lying, she’s going to need to directly accuse me.
“And how are you handling the attention?” she asks. “It seems like you two are all anyone can talk about today. Did you know you are on the national news?”
I shake my head. “I’m trying not to think about it, to be honest.”
She laughs. “That’s understandable. But I want you to know that you’re doing so well. Your relationship is changing minds worldwide.”
“That’s good,” I say, as I try to wrap my head around that.
“I also have some news for you. My friend who runs the internship program at Google, Janet Lewin, is visiting next week, and said she’d like to meet you.”
“Really?” I say, barely able to contain my excitement. I didn’t think I’d get this chance until after the semester was over and the deal was finished.
“Yes, really. So what do you say, shall I set up a lunch date for you?” She looks at her computer. “I’ve just pulled up your calendar—dean privileges—and see you’ve got a few free hours on Thursday afternoon. Does that work?”
“Yeah, that would be perfect.”
“Excellent. And Owen?”
“Yes?”
She turns away from the computer to look me right in the eyes. “Keep it up, all right? You’re doing well, but our deal still stands. It is of vital importance you make it to the end of the semester on good terms with Zarmenus. Do you understand?”
I swallow hard. “I do.”
“On that note,” she says, “I have heard some rumblings around campus that the two of you are only pretending to get along. Would you know anything about that?”
“Really?” I say. “I didn’t know.”
“Rumors are a tricky thing, and can be persistent once they take hold. Please try to squash them, if you can. I can’t give my recommendation if the world decides you two are pretending.”
“I’ll try my best,” I say.
Once I’m outside, I let the relief and excitement take over. I am going to meet someone who works at Google! Zarmenus and I aren’t going to screw this up. That means if she likes me, my future will be set. I just need to stay the course, and not let anything throw me off my game.
As complicated as this fake-dating thing has been, right now I’m sure of one thing.
For this, it’s all worth it.
Zarmenus just posted a thirst trap.
He posted it seconds ago. I’m in bed, scrolling on my phone, waiting for him to get out of the bathroom so I can use it.
I thought he was getting ready, because he’s going to a party tonight, but I guess he was taking shirtless mirror selfies instead.
I refreshed my feed, and then a shirtless Zarmenus picture filled my phone screen like a jump scare.
It’s a hot picture. Is it slightly obnoxious? Maybe. But there’s no denying how good he looks. He’s smiling, and clearly tensing as you can see every defined ridge of his six-pack. The comments are already flooding in, telling him how hot he is.
I wonder if I’d care about those comments if we were really boyfriends. Not that I even need to think about this, because Zarmenus and I are never going to be real boyfriends.
I zoom in on the picture. Just as I’m wondering if it’s demon magic that’s given him abs like that, the bathroom door swings open and Zarmenus steps out. His hair is wet, and his shirt is only half on. He pulls it down and kicks the door shut behind him.
I react too quickly and I accidentally like his post. I hope it’ll get lost in the sea of likes his thirst traps always get.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.
“Reading the news.”
I’m such a bad liar. It’s obvious I’m guilty as sin.
“Oh hey,” says Zarmenus. He’s looking at his phone. “You liked my post.” He comes up to my bed and rests his head on the railing. “You never like my posts.”
“A boyfriend should always like their partner’s thirst traps, that’s, like, Gay one-oh-one.”
His face drops. “Is that the only reason you liked it?”
“Why else would I?”
He staggers back and clutches his chest like he’s been shot. “My pride, it hurts.”
“Sorry,” I say.
He recovers, dropping his wounded act. “I was thinking. Would you like to come with me tonight?”
I choke back a laugh. Then I notice he isn’t joking.
I mean. I don’t know that much about the parties Zarmenus goes to. I’ve only seen them through posts on his social media, and let’s just say they’re a far cry from the Gaymer nights. They’re always big, elaborate house parties filled with frat bros.
But he came to my thing, even though it was out of his comfort zone. It’s only fair I do the same for him. Plus, people might get suspicious if I never go to any of his events. The internship is so close now I can taste it, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.
“You don’t have to,” he says. “It was just an idea.”
“No, that sounds good,” I say. “Count me in.”