Chapter 14
ETHAN
The quad is at that perfect almost-spring temperature where everyone pretends they’re not cold.
Piper’s already there when I arrive, standing near the fountain in black leggings and an oversized UMS hoodie.
Her glasses catch the light as she scrolls through her phone, and there’s something about the furrow between her brows that makes me want to smooth it out.
Bad thought. Fake boyfriends don’t get forehead-smoothing privileges.
“Ready to make terrible fashion choices?” I call out.
She looks up, and that almost-smile flickers across her face. “I’ve been making terrible fashion choices since 2011. Try to keep up, Prescott.”
We head toward the thrift stores on Mass Street, walking just close enough that our shoulders occasionally bump. Each time it happens, she shifts slightly away.
“So,” I say as we pass a group of freshmen stress-eating pizza, “anything-but-clothes means what exactly? Because I’m not showing up in just strategically placed duct tape. I value my dignity.”
“You have dignity? Could’ve fooled me.” The grin punctuating her sentence increases my heartbeat suspiciously.
“Harsh, Renner. And here I thought we were friends.”
“We’re ninety percent compatible friends, remember?” She says it like a joke, but there’s something underneath. “Anyways, Alex says it’s basically wear anything that’s not technically clothing. Trash bags, cardboard, bubble wrap—”
“Bubble wrap could be fun. Very poppable.”
She snorts. “You’d last five minutes before someone popped your entire outfit.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
The first thrift store smells like moth balls and broken dreams. We split up—Piper heading for the housewares section while I browse through a rack of curtains that might work as a toga.
“What about this?” She holds up a shower curtain with rubber duckies on it.
“Very sophisticated.”
“I’m going for ‘aggressively unsexy.’ Really lean into it.”
I grin. “Impossible. You could wear a garbage bag and still—” I catch myself. “Still be overdressed for my standards.”
“Ok,” she says, but she’s fighting a smile. “Maybe I should go for something a little sexier.”
I grin. “I’m into this, Pip, especially if you’re my date. My date would never wear ducks.”
“My pretend-date for one night only,” she corrects.
“Ah, so on that note, I’m going to need context if we’re doing this fake dating thing properly.”
Her face does something complicated—part grimace, part guilt. “About that...”
“Ah, exposition time. Let me guess—Miles is your ex and you need to make him jealous?”
“He’s not my ex.” She focuses very intently on a stack of placemats. “We were never even together. That’s the pathetic part.”
“But you wanted to be?”
The silence stretches long enough that I think she won’t answer. Then, quietly, “Have you ever been so sure someone felt the same way, only to find out you’d been reading the entire situation wrong?”
The question hits harder than she probably meant it to. Paige’s face flashes through my mind—all those moments I thought meant something real and solid, revealed as just killing time.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “I have.”
Piper looks up, maybe hearing something in my voice. For a second, we just look at each other across a bin of mismatched kitchen utensils.
“Miles and I were lab partners freshman year,” she says finally.
“Best friends. Studied together, ate together, built half a dozen apps together. For two years. I thought I misread things and…” She shakes her head.
“Doesn’t matter what I thought. He started dating Harper last summer.
I ran into them at the Sushi Palace last night and.
.. panicked. They pitied me. So I told them I was seeing someone. ”
“Enter the fake boyfriend.”
“Yup.” She picks up a colander, considering it. “You were the first person I thought of who might be crazy enough to say yes.”
“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment. Plus, I’m charming enough to make this loser properly jealous. I know that’s the real reason.” I wink.
Her cheeks flush pink; it’s adorable. “He’s not really a loser. You don’t even know him.”
“Two years, Piper? Either he’s blind or he’s an idiot. Possibly both.”
We move to the next aisle—old board games and puzzles. I start collecting Scrabble tiles while Piper examines a Twister mat.
“So what’s the endgame?” I ask, spelling out P-I-P with the tiles. “Make him realize what he’s missing?”
“I don’t know.” She sounds tired suddenly. “Maybe I just wanted to stop being the girl who waited for someone to notice her. Maybe I wanted to feel... chosen. For once.”
Something protective flares in my chest. “His loss, Pip.”
“Don’t—” She stops herself, sighs. “Can we forget I said any of this? Save me any more embarrassment.”
“You don’t need to be embarrassed. I told you about how the whole school found out I was being played by Paige, right? I get it. Heartbreak sucks.”
We continue shopping, the conversation flowing easier now. Piper finds a bunch of keyboard keys that she plans to string together.
“CTRL+ALT+DELETE my feelings,” she mutters, holding up the keys.
I discover a treasure trove of old pillow cases that could make a great outfit.
“What about you?” she asks as I model a particularly ugly pattern against my chest. “Why’d you say yes to this? Won’t it complicate things if you’re trying to date someone real?”
“I don’t date. Not since Paige. Besides, who says I barely know you?” I line up more pillow cases. “And,” I continue, enjoying the pink creeping up her neck, “you’re hot enough to make girls back off.”
She blinks at that, like she expected a different answer. “That’s... not where I thought you were going.”
“Where did you think I was going?”
“Something about making your ex jealous.”
I pause, considering. Paige might be at the party—she runs in those circles. And yeah, maybe there’s a petty part of me that wouldn’t mind her seeing I’ve moved on. But looking at Piper, the way she’s trying so hard to seem okay with this whole situation...
“Maybe that, too. And there’s this girl Lacey who hasn’t got the hint. But honestly? You seemed like you needed a win. And I’m excellent at playing the devoted boyfriend. I’ve got references.”
“From who?”
“My mom. She thinks I’m very handsome.”
She laughs—a real one this time—and the sound does something to my chest.
The store bell chimes. A couple walks in—preppy guy with perfectly styled brown hair, blonde girl who looks like she does sunrise yoga and posts about it.
Piper goes completely still.
“Is that—?”
She nods, eyes fixed on them like they’re an approaching storm.
Miles spots us almost immediately. His gaze slides from Piper to me to the space between us, calculating. He steers Harper our way with the confidence of someone who’s never been rejected.
“Showtime?” I murmur.
Piper’s hand finds mine—cold, slightly shaky. “Yeah.”
I lace our fingers together properly and pull her closer. Her hand may be cold, but her grip is firm. Like she’s made a decision, and she’s sticking to it.
“Pipes! Hey!” Miles’s voice is aggressively cheerful. His eyes lock on our joined hands. “And this must be Ian, right?”
Ian? Seriously?
Something about this guy immediately sets my teeth on edge. Maybe it’s the way he called her ‘Pipes’ like he owns her. Maybe it’s how he’s looking at our joined hands like he wants to set them on fire.
“That’s me. But it’s Ethan, bro.” I shift slightly, angling my body between him and Piper.
Oh, now I’m invested.